ALL IN THE FAMILY

Q. Kelly

Thanks and acknowledgements

"All in the Family" is my very first novel. I co-wrote the first draft with my then-sweetheart while we were in college. I would like to give many thanks to Tavian Robinson for all the fun we had writing it and for entrusting me with the manuscript for many, many rounds of revision. Any errors or other issues in the novel are mine, only mine. This "All in the Family" is quite different from the first draft (for example, characters have come and gone, and the word count is definitely down from 100,000+), but this published version would not have been possible without Tavian's valuable creative input. Thank you.

Melanie, my wife, deserves a medal for her support and patience.

Thank you to all my readers. I mean everyone: my beta readers, past and present, my editorial readers, the people who have bought my books and the people who took the time to review them and/or email me. Thank you all. You are a big part of what keeps me going.

Last, but not least, I kiss the feet of cover designer extraordinaire Leigh Ann Britt. She took what could have been a run-of-the-mill cover and transformed it into something special.

Author's Note

Some of the characters in "All in the Family" sign. Sam, one of the main characters, uses pidgin sign, which is American Sign Language signs in English word order. Articles such as "a," "an" and "the" are not used, nor are word endings such as -ing. Regardless of who is signing and which sign system the character uses, the dialogue reflects how the words would appear translated in English (how the characters would write the words, if they were writing and not signing). For example, Sam might sign: "I go store" but her dialogue would be recorded as: "I'm going to the store."

Think of it along these lines: modern books set in olden English times are not actually written in olden English.

Ride the Rainbow Books

www.ridetherainbowbooks.com

This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead or actual events is purely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced without the permission of the author.

"All in the Family" Copyright © 2011 by Q. Kelly

Smashwords Edition

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Q.Kelly on the Web:

http://qkelly.blogspot.com

http://qkelly.wordpress.com

I would love to hear from you!

Email me at yllek_q@yahoo.com

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Epilogue

Q. Kelly's Other Works

Chapter One

Allison did not like the woman with the big black hair who bounced into The Addict a moment ago. Allison's dislike was not because of the nasal Jersey-accented voice that made her want to invest in good earplugs. Nor was the dislike because the woman, braying with laughter at her own indecision, kept changing her order, from a black coffee to a latte to a cappuccino then back to a plain coffee with a brownie.

Allison did not like the woman because of the way she handled the baby. The boy looked to be about six months old, but his mother handled him as if he were a rag doll, tossing him over her shoulder, sending his neck this way and that way. Then she practically dropped him into his stroller.

"How much was that, again?" the mother asked.

"Five dollars, right on the mark," Allison repeated.

The woman frowned. She dug through her purse and added more coins to the motley pile in her hand. "Is $4.85 all right?"

Allison swallowed in resignation. Fifteen cents was not a lot to most people, but it was to her. She had to scrimp, save and work her butt off to help her mother pay the bills and take care of Allen.

The customer’s eyes lit up. "I found another nickel! How’s $4.90?"

"All right," Allison muttered. She accepted the customer’s pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters.

"Wonderful. You’re a doll! I tell you what. I’ll come back tomorrow, get more coffee and pay you back."

"Oh, that isn’t necessary," Allison demurred. But she felt lighter, happier. This customer was not so bad after all.

The woman scoffed. "Nonsense. I take care of my debts. Besides..." She let her voice trail off.

"What?"

"You look like you need the money."

Allison's hands crept to her hair. I look like I need money? How so? Her hair was shiny. Her skin was healthy. Her clothes were clean. The giveaway must be her eyes. Allison hated mirrors sometimes because they revealed something in her gaze. Something odd, haunted, indefinable. In any case, Allison would not let the customer get away with her remark. "Let me worry about myself," Allison retorted.

The woman flitted a dismissive hand. "Chill, simply an observation. We've all been there. No shame in it. Look, I’m in town just for the weekend, visiting my mama. She's like my best friend. But I’ll be back tomorrow, okay? About noon."

Allison lowered her gaze. The handle of the baby’s stroller peeked above the counter, and Allison wanted with all of her being to never see this customer or her son again.

An ear-piercing cry rattled Allison’s ears. "He's a grumpy Gus," the mother said. She dug the baby out of the stroller. Again, he was but a rag doll to her, his head bobbling dangerously.

"You should...ah..."

The mother’s eyes narrowed. "What?"

"Maybe support his head a bit." Allison demonstrated for the customer.

"He’s fine," the woman snapped. "He's teething is all."

Be pleasant. Remember, customer service first. "It’ll get better. I gave Allen a clean, wet washcloth to chew on. It helped him a lot."

"Oh yeah? I’ll have to try that."

Allison began to count the woman’s change. "So, what’s his name?"

"Christopher," the mother declared proudly. "After his father."

Allison let out a breath she had not realized she was holding. "That's a great name." Christopher. Not Bob. Had Allison really been thinking the customer would say Bob? Well, it was such a common name, and the baby was blond with light-colored eyes. But Bob was in jail.

The mother took her coffee and brownie. "Have a good day. See you tomorrow." She left The Addict, humming a happy tune.

Bob's chiseled features, complete with his sun-bleached blond hair and blue-green eyes, whooshed into Allison's mind. Stop stop stop. He's gone. It's done with. Allison forced herself to the present, to the nearly deserted, toasty coffee shop hundreds of miles from Arkansas.

Allison resumed counting the pile of change, and her stomach hardened. The total of the coins came to $2.50, a far cry from $4.90. Allison rubbed her temples; she was so gullible. The woman had known how to read her, all right. And she would not be back. Bye-bye, money.

Allison glanced at her cellphone, and the time leaped out. She forgot about the Jersey customer. Her shift would be over in thirty minutes. Normally, she would jump for joy. Not today. She was too nervous.

Her heart thrummed, and blissfully ignorant seconds ticked away. The picture, that wonderful picture of Sam. Allison bit her lip, trying to force the image out of her mind. She fished a flash card from her apron pocket.

"School," she muttered. She put the card on the counter and opened her palms. She laid a hand, palm down, sideways on the other hand. "School," Allison repeated, and she lifted the top hand twice. "No. Ugh."

"What ya doin’?" Her boss, Mr. Dierksen, ambled up. He was a kindly, fifty-ish man with graying hair. "Ah, more signs for Sam?"

"Yes." Allison puckered her lips. "I don’t think I’m doing this one right."

"Let me see." Mr. Dierksen took the card. "School." His hand movements were the same as Allison’s had been. "That look right?"

"That’s what I did," Allison admitted, but she did not feel better. "I think asking Sam about military school would be a good conversation starter."

"Don’t worry so much. You and Sam will get along great."

"School," Allison murmured, repeating the sign.

"Take off early, hmm? Nothing’s happening here."

Allison’s heart fluttered. Yes, yes, this was going to happen. Ready or not, she was going to meet Sam. Sam, who was clueless that her father was engaged to Allison's mother.

"I don't have the car. Joshua’s coming to get me."

"Sit, then. Rest your feet, study your signs in the book."

"You sure?"

"Sure I’m sure. Now scoot."

Allison untied her apron and collected her things. She slipped money from her purse into the cash register to make up the difference for the Jersey customer. She plopped down at an empty table and opened her sign language book to a random page. School stared back at her, and she slammed the book shut. Gawd. Allison never wanted to see that sign again.

She wanted desperately to impress Sam and for Sam to like her. Sam would hate her, though. It had been Sam and Barry for ten years. Sam would not be happy, coming home from school one afternoon and finding an instant family. They had practically moved in with Barry, and even Allison had not recovered from the whirlwind. A month ago, Beauregard Cannizarro was just a guy her mother waited on at the cafe and flirted with. Three Tuesdays ago, he was the guy her mother was going out on a date with. One week ago, they were in love. And then Allison came home five nights ago to that ratty old apartment to find that her mother was engaged to be married. Susan and Barry seemed happy together, deliriously in love. Allison genuinely was glad for her mother, and Barry would be a great father figure to Allen.

Would Sam be happy for her father and future stepmother? Allison was not so sure. She had the feeling her mother and Sam would clash. Susan had that effect on some people. One thing Allison was sure of: Sam held a spell over her. The picture had done it instantly. That picture, that wonderful, lovely picture on the fireplace mantel in the huge Cannizarro living room.

"Hey, this is Sam," Barry indicated to Allison about two weeks ago.

Allison went over to look. Sam's face was angular, not cute or pretty, but it had that indefinable something. Sam shared her father's impossibly deep blue eyes. A sly grin peeked from the corners of her lips. She had long, shiny black hair. Allison wondered right away how that hair would feel on her stomach, on her back, on her breasts. Barry had not noticed the reaction; he’d wandered off to Susan. Allison had walked off as well, startled at how a little photo had provoked such a response inside her.

Allison reminded herself that the photo was simply a picture. Most likely when she met Sam, there would be no attraction, no chemistry. Allison would wonder what the fuss had been about.

"Hey." A deep voice startled Allison from her thoughts.

Joshua.

He groaned at the sign language book. "You're not gonna make me practice again, are you?"

Joshua Wilbanks belonged on the runway. He was six feet two inches tall, with wavy brown hair and twinkling hazel eyes that most girls swooned over. He had the body of a Greek god. He also had the ego of a Greek god. Susan loved Joshua, absolutely adored him, and Susan had done so much for Allison. No harm indulging her mother by going out with Joshua. He was harmless anyway, all talk.

"I'm not going to make you practice again," Allison said.

"Whew. So, ready to go? Oh, hey. I can't stay at the house long. I've gotta meet Jeff."

"That's fine," Allison murmured. The Sam butterflies started up again. Time to meet Sam, her future stepsister, that lovely girl in the picture.

*****

Sam pulled into her three-car garage and grabbed her duffel bag. Finally, she would find out what was up. Her father had arranged for her to come home from military school for the weekend and to miss school Monday, all in the name of "a big surprise."

Sam jumped out of Dino. The red sport utility vehicle was Sam's Bronco, a gift from her father on Sam's sixteenth birthday. She was not allowed to drive Dino at school. She could only use the Bronco when she was home and to go between home and school.

"Corny!" Sam greeted her yellow Labrador retriever mix. Corny was his usual rascally self, hopping around like he was a puppy instead of a sizable twelve-year-old fellow. Sam threw her long arms around the dog's soft neck, trying to ignore the fact that his muzzle seemed two times whiter than it had been during winter break almost two months ago. He’s old. Too old.

Sam strode into the kitchen, Corny at her heels. She threw her duffel bag onto the floor.

A man, a broad grin on his handsome face, rounded the corner. He resembled Barry, Sam’s father. They were both hulking guys, at six feet six inches tall, with slabs of concrete for hands and feet. But Sam's father did not have spiky, gelled hair, a goatee, or a gold hoop earring. Her father had distinguished gray streaks in his hair, and he hated piercings on men.

Sam could not believe what she was seeing. Good grief. The man swept Sam into his arms and did not let go for several moments. Finally, he drew back. "You like?" he signed. He ran a hand through his hair, reminding Sam of a strutting peacock.

"It's different. So, what's the surprise?" she asked, half-signing, half-speaking. Her father was the only person that Sam used her voice with. Other people were not able to understand her garbled and mostly unintelligible speech. Barry could because he was used to it. Sam had gotten cochlear implant surgery when she was about a year old, but as in some cochlear implant cases, she had not been a good fit. Because cochlear implants eradicated all residual hearing, Sam had no hearing in that ear. Her parents opted not to implant her other ear. Sam hated hearing aids, and Barry had not pressed her to wear a hearing aid. Like it would have done much good, anyway. Sam's deafness was profound.

Barry chuckled. "You'll find out soon." He signed slowly and haltingly, but his mouth movements helped Sam understand him. His signing skills had gone downhill after Sam's mother and brother died.

Sam knew her dad could keep a secret. He dealt with lawyer-client privilege every day and probably knew hundreds of dirty divorce secrets. She would not be finding anything out until he was ready to let the goods slip. "Okay," she grumbled. "I’ll put my stuff up."

Anxiety clouded Barry’s face. "Don't go upstairs. Give me a minute to finish up a few phone calls, all right? The Hansons—remember them? They used to live down the street. They're going through a nasty divorce." Barry glanced at his watch. "Stay right here, sweetheart. Don’t leave the kitchen."

"Is it a TV?" Sam had a TV in her bedroom, but it was thirteen inches. She had been asking for a thirty-incher. Don't be an idiot. Dad wouldn't pull me from school for a TV.

"It’s much better than a TV."

"Why can’t I go to my room?"

"Just wait."

Sam took a step back, not liking the look on her father's face. "You sure this is something cool?"

Barry smiled widely, but Sam detected apprehension in his eyes. "You'll love it!"

Can’t go upstairs, can’t go outside. The plot thickens.

Barry leaned in for a quick kiss on Sam's cheek. "I missed you, sweetheart."

After Barry left, Sam headed to the refrigerator. She opened the door, her mouth salivating at the thought of the usual slices of leftover pizza or Chinese takeout. Barry worked long hours and was not a cook. But there was no pizza, no Chinese.

There were, however, plenty of salad bags, enough to feed a small army. And unless Sam’s eyes were failing her, her father had gotten majorly into apples, oranges, grapes and...Slimfast shakes. What the hell? Sam flung open the freezer door, and instead of the usual fattening ice cream were boxes of Weight Watchers ice cream bars.

Sam closed the doors. Okay, so her father was dieting. He could stand to lose a few pounds, but he always exercised to lose weight. He loved his junk food, just as Sam did. They adored pizza for breakfast. Barry did not expect her to join him on the diet, did he? No, of course not. She was in tip-top shape, thanks to military school.

Sam checked out the pantry, and the usual chips and cookies were nowhere in sight. In their places were rice cakes, diet popcorn and granola bars. "Hell," Sam muttered. What were they going to have for dinner, salad? No way was she bringing that nasty rabbit food near her mouth.

She wandered back into the kitchen. Five minutes had passed, and she was getting restless. Stay put. Yeah, right. Sam led Corny to the front yard and found a well-worn tennis ball. She brought her arm back and sent the ball sailing in a perfect arc. Corny galloped after it, although he was not as quick as he used to be. Sam gritted her teeth. Stop thinking about Corny getting older.

After Corny brought the ball back, Sam kneeled and scratched him behind the ears. "You smell," she proclaimed. "Ew."

Out of the corner of her eye, Sam saw a flash of white. It was a worn Chevrolet Lumina screeching into the Cannizarro driveway. Corny slunk off, and Sam hauled herself to her feet. A woman stepped out of the Lumina and cast an appraising glance in Sam’s direction.

Sam did not like the looks of the woman. She was a few inches shorter than Sam. She appeared about thirty-five years old, and dyed red hair hung limply on her shoulders. She carried a few extra pounds around her stomach and hips. Black leggings clung to her like a second skin, and a baggy red sweater and high heels completed her garish outfit.

The woman took a few steps toward Sam. "Susan." She pointed to herself and mouthed exaggeratedly: "SUSAN. SUSAN."

Gotcha. Susan had long, flaming red nails. No way was this woman touching Sam. She better not be Dad's girlfriend.

Susan held up a finger and turned back to the Lumina. She unbuckled a little boy from a child seat in the back. A mop of strawberry-blond hair covered his head.

Crap. Not only did Barry have a girlfriend, he had a girlfriend with a small child. Sam hated kids. They were boorish, grubby, smelly.

Susan gathered the boy in her arms. "Allen," Susan mouthed. "ALLEN." She kissed his forehead. "Say hi to darling Samantha!"

Scarlet flooded Allen's cheeks, and he dropped his gaze to the ground.

"Samantha," Susan chirped. "I adore your hair."

Sam could not stand being called Samantha. "Sam." She pronounced her name as clearly as she could.

Susan squealed. "I understood you!"

Barry bounced out of the house. He was grinning like there was no tomorrow. He scooped Susan up in his big, meaty arms. He crushed her and her son to his chest.

Sam knew, in that one moment, that her father was in love. With this crazy flaming-red-nailed woman. Oh God, oh God. Sam could not breathe.

Barry let go. "I see you met," he signed to Sam.

She could not meet his eyes. She had not seen him light up like this since...well, ever.

"Beauregard, Samantha's such a dear!" Susan exclaimed, and she set down her son. At least Susan's lips were fairly easy to read. Many people's were not.

"So are you, baby." Barry leaned in for a kiss and another hug. Sam could not bear to watch. She opted to look at Allen. The tot sucked his thumb and stared back at her with big, round green eyes.

Sam scowled. She hated stare-y kids most of all. She hated them more than women with long, flaming-red fingernails. Okay. So Dad has a girlfriend. No big deal. It won't last long. Just play nice.

Barry pulled away from Susan, and Sam swallowed her revulsion. "Wow!" She forced herself to smile. "You have a girlfriend! Cool."

A sheepish grin overtook Barry's face. "Actually, Susan’s not my girlfriend. She’s my fiancee. Surprise!"

Chapter Two

After the big surprise was revealed, Sam slipped into shock. She was not aware of the goings-on around her, nor did she care to be aware. All she could think about were her mother and her father.

Beauregard Cannizarro and Norene Adams, both aged twenty-five, were married on an April morning. They decided on the spur of the moment to elope. Virginia had no waiting periods, so why not? However, Barry and Norene wanted to get married in the right place. The cramped, bureaucratic stuffings of Roanoke City Hall did not appeal to Norene. "No problem," her groom told her. "I’ll persuade the justice of the peace to marry us outside."

Norene's sister, Julia, had her doubts. "Good luck. The justice's a mean old fart."

Julia's husband, Gerald, the other witness to the wedding, told Barry not to worry. "The fates are smiling upon you and Norene," he said. Gerald was right. The regular justice was out sick. His substitute was a hopeless romantic.

And so under dogwood trees and amid the honks of buses and cars, Barry and Norene recited their vows and promised to love each other for eternity. Their grinning faces would forever live on in Gerald’s photographs. The groom was brawny and handsome in his spiffy suit, and the bride was beautiful, especially with the contrast between her cream-colored dress and her dark hair and dark eyes.

After the ceremony, the new husband and wife decided to go home and celebrate. Then they realized they had a problem. They were not sure where home was. They had known each other two weeks. Barry had proposed that morning. Norene’s apartment was a little bigger, and a lot tidier, so they settled on that as home. And they never looked back. People said it wouldn’t last. Barry and Norene hardly knew each other. They were crazy, nutty kids in love. They would be divorced within five years.

People could not have been more wrong.

Sam loved that story. She was as unromantic as a person could be, but the thought of her parents’ whirlwind courtship never failed to warm her stomach with fuzzies. Her parents were right for each other, destined for each other. They were the stuff of fairy tales. Proposing to Norene on the spur of the moment and then marrying her that same day was the only impulsive thing Barry had done. Except he had gone and done it again. In the process, he had cheapened the memory of Sam’s mother.

Sam was on the couch now, and her stepmother-to-be was beaming at her. "We’re going to get along wonderfully, Samantha!"

Barry told Sam how they met. "Susan works at a cafe I go to a lot on my lunch breaks. I always had my eye on her, to be honest." Barry shot Susan a shy look, and she giggled. "I finally got the guts to ask her out. The rest is history."

Oh, Daddy. How could you? You're blind. This Susan was nothing like Norene. Sam's mother was cool. She was easygoing, beautiful and kind, inside and out. She laughed a lot. This Susan dressed like she was mired in the 1980s. This Susan mouthed her words like the fool she was. This Susan was fake as hell. She was wrong for Barry.

Sam wanted to vomit. All over Susan. She could not believe the woman beaming so widely at her was her future stepmother. Jesus Christ. And the boy sprawled on the floor coloring in a book was her future stepbrother. What the hell? Sam did not need a stepbrother. Her father did not need another kid. He was nearing middle age. He should be able to enjoy his fishing and reading and doing whatever he wanted to do, not chasing after some snotty brat who was not his own kid.

"Hey, Allen," Barry said. "Come over here and finger spell your name for Sam."

The boy shook his head no.

"Come on, buddy," Barry coaxed.

Allen shook his head again.

"Hey, Sam, spell your name for him."

Sam scowled. "No."

"Why not?"

Sam jerked to her feet. She had no intention of staying in the house any longer.

*****

Sam knew where she was going even before she jumped into Dino—to her aunt Julia’s house. Sam loved Julia as much as she loved her own father. If anyone would understand this Susan mess, Julia would. Gerald was okay; his signing was about the same as Barry's. Sad that Sam's uncle who was not related to her by blood signed about as well as her own father.

No one was home. Not a problem. Sam knew where Julia and Gerald hid their keys, and she let herself in. Fuck, fuck, fuck, goddammit. How could her father up and get engaged to some 1980s floozy? And spring it on her like it was some wonderful thing? How could he expect her to be jumping for joy and finger spelling stupid crap to some kid who thought boogers were the best thing since ice cream?

Sam paced the living room. Her father was such an idiot. Did he know if Susan was who she said she was? Had he run a background check? What if she was a psycho killer? What if she specialized in swindling money from wealthy men? Hundreds of questions scurried through Sam’s mind, and her rage built and built.

She found herself in the hallway, right in front of the picture of her mother. Her mother was with Julia, on Julia’s wedding day. Julia had been twenty-three and Norene twenty-four. They could have been twins, so alike were their features, dark hair and almost-black eyes.

Next to the wedding picture was one of Sam with Lucas. She had been seven; he had been four. Exactly one week after the picture was taken, he died in a car crash, along with Sam’s mother and maternal grandparents.

That Lucas was a good kid. Sam felt this more than knew it, because she remembered precious little of her time with her brother. Nor their mother, for that matter. The mind movies had become more blurry and dusty with the years, and Sam rarely allowed herself to think about her mother and brother these days. What were they now but worm food? Sometimes, though, they flashed into her mind, laughing, smiling and very much alive. Sam hurried those memories out as quickly as possible.

But here she was now, alone in a house not her own, and staring at those long-ago images. "Fuck," Sam muttered. She wanted to grab both pictures and smash them to the floor. Or even better, shove them in her father’s face. "Remember them, Dad? Now this was a cool woman. A cool kid. This Susan chick and her brat—they’re not cool. So just, you know, forget about them. We’ll pretend this never happened."

Sam detected movement out of the corner of her eye. Julia was stepping into the house. Sam ran to her aunt, and Julia held her close. Julia smelled good, wonderfully familiar, of cotton candy and coffee and roses and all kinds of things mixed into one. Sam clenched her jaw, willing tears not to fall.

They fell anyway, and Sam realized this was only the second time her aunt had seen her cry. The first time was when Lucas was in the coffin. He had been white, like he was really sick. His eyes were closed, and his hair was slicked back. He wore his favorite shirt and blue jeans. Sam shook him and tried to wake him up. When he would not, Sam cried and cried. Julia held her.

It was the clearest memory Sam had of her brother, sweet four-year-old Lucas frozen in death. Sam fucking hated that memory.

Julia drew back. "What's wrong?" She signed fluently, easily, unlike Barry.

Sam swallowed the lump in her throat, then it hit her that Julia knew. How could she not? She and Barry ran in many of the same social circles. They talked on the phone every once in a while, and not always about Sam. They were friends in every sense of the word.

Renewed anger frothed inside Sam. "How could you not tell me? Don’t act like you didn’t know!"

Julia's eyes shifted guiltily. "Your dad wanted to do it himself, in person."

"He wasn't dating anyone during winter break! How could he just up and get engaged to some chick?"

"You mean like with your mother?"

"No! That's comparing apples and oranges. Susan is...she’s nothing like...she’s...ugh."

Julia took Sam's hand and guided her to the couch.

*****

Sam was on her second bottle of water when Julia brought up the possibility that Sam ought to be happy for her father.

Sam blinked. "What?"

"He’s been lonely for a long time," Julia pointed out. "I’m glad he found someone. It's wonderful to see him smile again."

"Fine, if Dad wants to find someone, fine, but do it the normal way. With a better person. You obviously haven't met Susan, or you'd understand."

"We've met."

"What did you think?"

Julia's fingers tensed before she began to sign. "She's very different from your mother. But that's not necessarily a bad thing."

"You don't like her either!" Sam crowed.

"All you need to ask yourself is this: Does this woman make your father happy?"

"He's not himself anymore. I hardly recognized Dad! Did you see? He has a goatee and this funky hoop earring. He looks like freaking Blackbeard. He just needs an eye patch. I’m sure his clients love it, too."

"Give Susan a chance. Your father needs her. He's tried so hard to be brave and strong for you, but he's been unhappy. Do you think your mother would've wanted him to be happy?"

Sam's temper rose again. "But the kid! The kid kept staring at me. What is Dad thinking? He's going to have to chase after some little brat when he should be enjoying retirement."

Julia grinned. "Honey, Allen won't be a kid by the time your dad retires. Anyway, Allen's a dear. He's so cute. Your dad's crazy about him. You will be, too."

Sam scoffed. "Whatever."

"Allison's wonderful. She's such a lovely young woman. She kept asking me all kinds of questions about you. She's very excited about learning sign."

Sam's mind went blank. "Who?"

"Allison."

"Who?"

Julia coughed. "Allison. Susan's daughter. Allen's mother."

Allen's mother. "Wait a minute. Susan isn't the kid's mother?"

"It's a long story. But, basically, Susan had a boyfriend who..." Julia swallowed. "He molested Allison, and she got pregnant. Allen knows Allison is his biological mother, as well as a three-year-old can know, but Susan's the one he calls 'Mom.' It's like..." Julia shrugged. "I don't know exactly. I didn't want to press."

"How old is Allison?"

"A little younger than you. Sixteen."

Sam cocked an eyebrow. "And she's that kid's mother?"

"Yep."

Oh, Christ. Sam's whining, her problems paled in comparison. Petty. You're full of petty shit. "Okay. Okay." Sam's chest was suddenly heavy, very heavy. "Okay, whatever. I still don't want them."

*****

Allison felt as if she was back to square one. She was not meeting Sam anytime soon, and she did not know how much longer she could go on with her stomach in knots.

"Why doesn't Samantha like me, Beauregard?" Susan asked for the umpteenth time. "I tried so hard."

"She likes you fine," Barry said. "It's my fault."

"So you think she went to her aunt's?" Allison asked before her mother could continue her whine party.

Barry rubbed his forehead. "Yeah. Or Paul's. I'll call soon. I was hoping she'd come back on her own. But, uh..." Barry glanced at the clock. "I don't want to wait too long." He got on his cellphone and frowned into it. "Hey, Julia." A long pause. "Yeah. I figured. All right. Thanks." He hung up.

"Well?" Susan asked.

"Sam is over there. She's gonna spend the night."

Allison's heart crashed into her stomach. Damn it. One more day of waiting.

Susan snorted. "We should bring her home. She should be with us."

"I want to bring her home, Susie. I do. This will be better, though. She'll come back tomorrow, and we'll move on. Start fresh."

"Well, all right," Susan said. "I was thinking of taking a little lunch and shopping trip Sunday. Me, Allison and Samantha. What do you think?"

Barry rubbed his chin. "Sam's not big on shopping, but why not? Actually, Susan, that's an excellent idea."

"Really?"

"Really. And don't you worry your wonderful self about money. You spend as much as you need to. God, Susan, how did I get so lucky? I love how you care about Sam. She's going to love you as much as I do."

Chapter Three

"Arms up." Allison slid a white pajama top onto Allen. Susan had decided to spend the night with Barry. Allison and Allen would be bunking in the guest room. Allison knew the room well; she had spent the past five nights there, with Allen. The bed sucked.

"Not tired! Wanna sign!"

"I know, sweetie, but it's your bedtime. We've been signing all night. We'll practice more tomorrow."

"Sam don't like me."

"She does. This is new to her. She needs to get used to us."

"Wanna sign colors!"

Allison smoothed Allen's hair out. She helped him into bed. "We'll do colors tomorrow, I promise."

Susan poked her head in the room.

"Momma!" Allen cried.

"Hey, sweetie." Susan took her place beside Allen. She kissed his forehead.

"Story!" the boy demanded.

"Not tonight. I need to talk to your sister. I’ll tell you two stories tomorrow."

Allison's stomach twisted. What does Momma want?

Susan gave Allison a smile. "I'll be in the other room."

"Okay."

Susan retreated, and Allison brushed her lips against Allen's forehead. She wondered when he would start pushing her away. Ew! Don't kiss me. That's yucky. You're embarrassing me in front of my friends. "Sleep tight and don’t let the bedbugs bite."

Allen giggled, as he always did. Allison turned on the night light and lingered by the door. Some days Allison had herself almost convinced she never gave birth to this child, never had him inside her, never felt his little legs kicking against her stomach. She did not want to go to her mother and see the eternal hardness in her gaze.

Allison would rather watch Allen drift off to sleep. She loved doing that, although she felt guilty each and every time. Because whenever she tucked Allen in, took in his angelic, sleeping face, his golden eyelashes, the little sighs of contentment he made, her heart swelled with love. And she did not want to love this child, but God help her, she did. She wished she did not love him so she could turn him over completely to her mother. Maybe she could, maybe she would, if not for the hardness in Susan's gaze. Allison got the feeling sometimes that her mother was teetering on a thin line. Anything could send her over the edge. Anything could send her punishing Allison and Allen for what Bob did.

"Good night," Allison whispered. She left the door open a crack.

What Susan called the "other room" was a junk room. Storage room. It would become Allison’s bedroom soon. It was on the second floor too, between Sam's bedroom and the guest room.

"We haven't had much of a chance to talk," Susan said. "How are you? How's Joshua?"

"Fine. Good."

Susan's purse hung from the doorknob, and she got a package of condoms from it. "Here."

"I don't need condoms."

"You never know." Susan's voice was soothing, understanding, but her gaze had that hardness. The hardness had appeared when Susan found out Allison was pregnant and who the father was. The hardness had never gone away. Susan had done her best to be a good, understanding mother, and Allison loved her for it despite being scared at the same time of the possibility of Susan snapping. Susan had insisted on counseling, and only last year had she allowed Allison to stop. Allison's choice. She frigging hated the counseling. She wanted to suggest to her mother that she go for counseling. There was no denying that Susan had never looked at Allison the same way again after Bob. Their camaraderie was gone, totally gone. Susan had been in love, crazy, completely, flipping head over heels in love with Bob.

"Take the condoms," Susan urged. "You really never know."

"Okay. Fine." Allison slid the condoms into her pants pocket. No use arguing with her mother. This was not the time to stir the waters, anyway. Allison truly was glad her mother was with Barry. Her mother had had two boyfriends between Bob and Barry, and these men had been...well, they had been okay, but Allison had not let herself get to know them. After Bob, that would have been stupid. Not so with Barry. Allison clicked with Barry instantly. Something about him radiated honesty and decency. He was not Susan's usual type. Allison hated the phrase "trailer park trash" because she had grown up in a trailer park. Most people there did not fit the stereotype. However, "trailer park trash" did fit Susan's usual boyfriend. Fit Allison's father, too, at least later in his life.

Susan reached into her purse again. "Gum?" She proffered a pack of Wrigley's Big Red Cinnamon.

The room disappeared, and Allison was back in the Arkansas trailer, hoping Bob had not seen the magazine she was reading. She had shoved it under her pillow, but doubtless he would grab it to see what she was hiding. He winked. "What you reading?"

"Nothing."

Bob fished gum out of his pocket. "Want a stick?"

Allison pretended her mother had said something else. Ice cream. She said ice cream. The gum was one example of why Allison was afraid her mother would snap. Bob had chewed that type of gum like he breathed air. He was forever offering it.

"Sure." Allison accepted the gum nonchalantly. No way would she show her mother she was intimidated. And maybe it was not conscious. Allison would give her mother the benefit of the doubt.

*****

Sam could not sleep. It was not that she had trouble in strange places—she could fall asleep anywhere—and it was not because she was wide awake. She was as tired as she had ever been. The day had been long and draining. She tossed and turned, replaying the moment her father said: "Actually, Susan’s not my girlfriend. She’s my fiancee. Surprise!"

Sam got to her feet. There was no use trying to sleep. She padded to a window and pulled the curtains back. Glittering stars crowded the sky, and Sam thought of her mother. Norene had been an amateur astronomer, and Sam knew Norene’s favorite stars and constellations by heart. That was thanks to Barry and Julia, who had pointed them out many times.

Sam should be happy for her father. It was obvious he was head over heels in love—not just with Susan, but with her son, too. Grandson. Barry had another little boy, and his biological mother was sixteen years old. Crazy stuff. Sam was not sure how she should act around Allison. Should Sam bring up the fact she knew the kid was Allison's? Was it appropriate to ask about the molestation—would Allison expect her to? Was Allison an emotional, fucked-up mess inside?

Should Sam say nothing about the kid and the molestation?

Shit. Time to forget about Allison. Sam itched to be out of Julia's house. I'm going home now to sleep in my own bed, with my own dog. I’ll do damn well what I please, in my own house.

*****

Sam pulled into her driveway about twenty minutes later but did not press the button to open the garage door. No sense waking her father up at one in the morning and suffering through a: "You’re home! I missed you. We’re gonna be one big happy family, okay?"

Sam cut the engine and eased out of Dino. Shit. Wait. She had overlooked something; her father was awake. Had to be, because the living room was lit up. Sam’s resentment escalated. Here she was, home, to sleep in her own bed, but no, her father would grill her and get on her ass. Leaving Julia’s early had been a mistake. Sam decided to simply sign "Later" and stalk past her father.

Sam unlocked the garage side door and turned the light on. The Lumina greeted her. More like mocked her. Shit. Susan's here.

Corny bounced up. "Hey, boy." Sam rubbed his head and slipped him a doggy biscuit. Wait a minute. Why was Corny in the garage? He was shivering. He was old! It was late February and about ten degrees outside. Barry always kept Corny inside the house.

Susan. Sam visualized her stepmother-to-be's fat red lips whining about allergies and cleaning dog hair and the smell. Fuck that bitch. My dog comes inside whenever he wants.

Sam stormed to the door connecting the garage and the kitchen. She threw the door open. Then she stopped cold. Someone was sitting at the kitchenette table. Someone she did not recognize, someone glancing among several scattered books and writing into a notebook, someone whose eyelashes belatedly flew open to meet Sam's gaze. Must be Allison. Good God, she was beautiful, nothing like her mother's forced looks. Loose tendrils of strawberry-blond hair tumbled down Allison's shoulders, and her lips were a full, soft pink. She was ethereal and unreal under the lights. Her mustard-yellow sweat pants and thin white T-shirt diminished nothing.

A fierce red flooded the girl's face. She snapped her head back toward the books, as if they would tell her what to do.

Sam stared, amazed and shaken. Panic grabbed her; in her haste to leave Julia's house, she had not brushed her hair or looked herself over. Sam had never been smooth around girls. She had known for a few years that she was gay. She could not pinpoint the exact moment she realized, but it was when she was about ten years old and began to understand that her crushes on her girl friends were how they felt about boys.

None of this mattered to Sam at the moment. She was paralyzed. She needed to get out, now, before she made a spectacle of herself. But her legs refused to cooperate. Her arms worked okay; she was able to reach out and absent-mindedly pet Corny.

The girl looked up again. She offered a tentative smile and went to a purse on the counter. She dug a piece of folded paper from it and shoved it into Sam’s hands. The paper was addressed, in big, blue block letters, to SAM.

Hi Sam! Your dad's told us so much about you. He's really proud of you. I hope we can be friends and that you can help me learn sign language better. I've been teaching Allen too. The abc's, numbers, basic signs such as who, what, why, where, when, how. I'd love to take a class. Any ideas? Well, I better stop writing and let you reply!! A huge smiley face ended the note.

Sam gave an anxious little cough and turned the garage light off. She stepped fully into the kitchen and closed the door behind her. She ventured a few steps more to the kitchen table. Now that's a nice surprise. The books Allison had been studying were on sign language. Sam got a pen. "Are you Allison?"

Allison inclined her head for a yes. She made the sign for sorry, a backward ‘s’ on her chest, and moved it in a circle.

"Why are you sorry?" Sam wrote.

Allison shrugged and looked away.

Sam wrote: "That's cool you have sign language books. Spell your name."

"Um…" Allison tucked loose hair behind her ears. "S…l…l…i…s…o…n."

Sam reached for the pen. "You made your a like s."

Allison cringed, and Sam hastened to reassure her. "It’s okay. People do it all the time. With d and f, too. Just remember to keep your thumb to the side with a."

Allison nodded uncertainly. "Sorry." She did look sorry. Deeply, painfully, sorry, like someone had died.

Sam wrote again: "Why was Corny in the garage? We keep him inside, especially in winter."

"My mom doesn’t like him being in because of her allergies."

"Screw her. Corny sleeps with me."

Allison studied Sam’s note. "Yeah, um…"

Sam’s stomach growled, and she grabbed the paper back. "I’m hungry," she announced. Julia had ordered pizza, but Sam’s appetite had been on hiatus. She strode to the refrigerator. The fridge door had been bare before, but now it displayed a drawing, titled SAM, in wobbly, red crayon letters. Sam ignored the picture and opened the door. Same healthy crap from earlier. Sam whirled to her stepsister-to-be. "Where’s good food?" Sam finger spelled and signed slowly.

"No understand," Allison signed. "Slow."

Sam jotted her message. "Where's the good food?"

"Diet," Allison finger spelled, mangling the word. "No good food."

"Why?"

Allison reached for the pen and paper. "My mother’s really into health food. But don’t worry. She’s a good cook. She can do wonders with anything."

"I don’t want healthy crap."

Allison ran her tongue over her lips. "I have some things in my backpack. Candy and chips."

Sam flashed Allison an approving grin. Now that's more like it. "We can eat in my room," Sam wrote.

Allison gathered her books and stuff from the table, and Sam noticed that Allison was not only studying signs. Two pictures were on the table. In one picture, Allison had her arms around a tanned young man. He had wavy brown hair. They were both dressed up—probably at a dance. So Allison had a boyfriend. A boyfriend whose picture was likely the last thing she saw every night. Gag.

"Joshua," Allison finger spelled.

Sam kept her expression neutral. Sissy name.

"My...my..." Allison scrunched her face, apparently struggling to remember the sign.

"Boyfriend," Sam signed abruptly, combining the signs for boy and friend.

Allison grinned. "Boyfriend." She repeated the sign.

Why do all the cute girls have boyfriends? Sam pointed to the second picture. "Who?" This photo was of a handsome, young blond man with green eyes.

Allison stuffed both pictures into a sign language book.

Huh. Sam wrote: "Who was that blond dude?"

"No one. Let's go to your room."

Corny followed Sam and Allison upstairs. To Allison's credit, she said not a word about Corny being with them.

Allen's father? Was that the blond guy? Wasn't that kind of creepy for Allison to be looking at a picture of the dude who molested her?

Sam lifted Corny onto her bed. He walked twice in a circle and plunked down.

Allison smiled and signed haltingly: "Cute. Good dog."

Sam grabbed the notepad. "Too bad your boyfriend isn’t cute."

Allison’s eyes widened.

What did you go and do that for, Sam? Tsk, tsk. Temper.

Allison took several moments to reply. A few times, she scratched through lines. The message Sam got at last read: "It’s a bad picture. He looks better in person. He’s really nice. He’s learning sign, too. Anyway, I’ll dig out the food."

Sam shook her head. "Not hungry now. Going to bed."

Dismay crossed Allison’s face. "But..."

"Tired."

Allison reached for the notepad. "You can’t pass up free candy."

Sam tried to not let the plea get to her. She was restless and irritable. She was tired of this sort of crap happening. When would she learn? It went something like this: Sam meets girl. Sam likes girl. Girl has boyfriend. Sam thinks maybe girl will grow to like her, anyway. Sam is dreadfully wrong. Always. Girl never likes Sam as anything more than a friend. Sam ends up hating herself.

And this was not any girl. This was her stepsister-to-be, who was also, from the looks of it, mooning over the dude who raped her.

Allison reached into her backpack. She came up with a party-sized bag of peanut M&M’s. Her eyes shining, she held the bag up. She pointed to herself and signed "Yellow," meaning she was claiming the yellow M&M’s.

Sam blew out a breath. Hell, yes, she was staying. When Allison broke her heart, Sam would only have herself to blame.

*****

As the night went on, and with more practice, Allison’s signing improved. Sam was impressed. Allison’s finger spelling was quicker and clearer, and she already knew a good amount of signs. She got better at reading Sam's signs, although the majority of their conversation was through writing.

Sam asked how Allison had been learning. "Your dad’s helped some. Also books and the Internet."

"For how long?"

Allison shrugged. "Two weeks?"

"You sign well. Like you've been studying a month at least."

Allison blushed, and Sam enjoyed the response. A lot.

"So," Allison asked after a while, "how come you’re back early from your aunt's?"

"I couldn’t sleep. I was mad. I mean, this is my house. I have every right to be here."

"Yes, you do. I’m glad you’re here. I’ve been dying to meet you. Your dad’s said so many great things about you."

Sam snorted. "Such as?"

"You’re really funny and smart. You’re a great dancer. You outshine your grandfather on the dance floor. Me, I can’t dance worth a whit. You’re champ at poker. You kick your dad’s ass in basketball and chess. You want to be a lawyer like him."

"The lawyer part isn't true, but Dad keeps saying it."

"What do you want to be?"

"Dunno yet." Sam rubbed the white patch on Corny’s otherwise tan head. "What bad things did Dad tell you?"

"Bad things?"

"Like why I go to military school."

A shadow crossed Allison’s face. "He said you got in trouble."

"And?"

"You were expelled. Mom told me that you were sneaking out and smoking. That you set off a bomb at your old school."

"Stink bomb," Sam scrawled proudly. "The best one I ever made."

"Right."

Sam puckered her lips. Change the subject. "Where's your father?"

Allison's expression hardened. "Back in Arkansas. Dead."

"What happened?"

"Died of alcoholism, basically."

"He the blond dude in the picture?"

Allison shook her head, and a muscle flickered at her jaw. "That man in the picture is Allen's father."

"What's his name?"

"Bob. He's in jail now."

Sam quickly, mentally ran over her reply before she wrote it. "My aunt told me what happened with you and him."

"Please don't tell my mother I have a picture of him."

"I won't. Why were you looking at it?"

Allison gave a laugh, a helpless little laugh. "Don't know. I don't like him. I look at his picture sometimes. But I don't know why. Can we not talk about him?"

"That's fine."

Allison smiled widely and pointed to the bag of M&M’s. "Almost empty. Wow."

"You did most of the damage," Sam wrote. It was true; Allison was not afraid to eat. Sam fished out the last yellow M&M. "Here."

Allison grinned. "About our parents, I really am sorry your father didn’t tell you earlier."

Sam rolled her eyes. "Dad's an idiot, but I’ll get over it."

Chapter Four

When Allen awoke Allison at eight a.m., the sun was shining, and she felt refreshed and vital. Yes, she smelled like old dog, but so what? Allison slipped into the hall bathroom she shared with Allen. Sam's room was the only one upstairs connected to a bathroom.

Allison brushed her hair and her teeth. She had met Sam, finally. And they had gotten along swell. More than swell. Signing with Sam had been so cool, easy and natural. Allison’s skill had more than quadrupled from that practice.

Allison wondered if Sam was awake. Probably not. They had chatted until three-thirty.

But maybe Sam was awake. And downstairs. Gotta look nice for her. Allison sifted through her clothes, of which there were not many. She was not officially living at the house yet, but the reason for her lack of clothes was because she, Susan and Allen were poor. Dirt poor. They'd shared their apartment with ants and cockroaches. Now they lived in this palace of sorts, but Allison's wardrobe had not caught up. Nor did she plan to ask Barry for money or handouts.

Allison settled on the usual black pants she wore to work and on a green sweater that would bring out her eyes. After she dressed, she studied herself in the mirror. She looked good. The sweater hugged her curves and her chest in all the right places. The pants and her boots made her look taller.

Sam, of course, was not downstairs. Allen was watching TV. "Colors!" he squealed. "We learn colors."

"Okay, I'll show you a few before work."

Allen ran for his kiddie sign language book, and Allison wandered into the kitchen for a Slimfast. Barry was already there, swilling a Rich Chocolate Royale.

"Hey, Allison," he said. "Sam came home last night."

A smile stole across Allison's face. "I know. I was up. We met."

"How'd it go?"

Allison pulled a Creamy Milk Chocolate from the refrigerator and met her stepfather’s hopeful gaze. "We got along great."

"Wonderful. You'll be good for my daughter. You're exactly the influence she needs."

*****

Sam woke up at noon, to Corny's tail slapping her face. He licked her cheeks for good measure.

"Ugh." Sam wiped her face and sat up. "Dude. You're gross. You're lucky you're cute." She tumbled out of bed and into the bathroom.

Allison. This was bad, if Sam was thinking about Allison first thing in the morning. Something was different with Allison. Something Sam could not quite put her finger on. Perhaps it was that Allison would grow to like her back, after all.

Sam combed her hair. No. That was what she said, each and every time, and it never came true. Geez. She was deluding herself again. She brushed her teeth and slipped into her favorite pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Her stomach was killing her, and she vowed to have a good lunch, no matter what Susan decreed.

*****

Barry was the only person downstairs. He greeted Sam with a bear hug and held her tight. He let go after a moment and peered into her face. "I screwed up. I'm sorry."

Sam smiled uneasily. "It was a shock."

"I'm glad you're back early from Julia's. Susan and I are. She's a wonderful woman, she really is, and she's excited about getting to know you. So are Allison and Allen."

Sam did not reply.

"I know this is sudden, but remember—"

"I know," Sam interrupted. "You and Mom did the same thing. Blah blah blah."

Barry became wistful. "When I laid eyes on your mother for the first time, I knew she was the one for me. It was the same with Susan. I walked into that cafe three months ago." He shrugged. "I saw her, and I knew she would be my wife one day. It scared me. That’s why it took me so long to ask her out."

"Why’d it scare you?"

Barry flicked an invisible speck of dirt from his shirt. He furrowed his brow and puckered his lips. He seemed on the verge of tears. No, no, don’t cry. "Well, Sam, it scared me because I never thought I could feel for anyone else the way I did for your mother. You might not remember how I was after she and Lucas died, but I couldn’t take care of you for a long time. Thank God Julia and Gerald were there to take you and Corny in. Anyway, to have those feelings again, out of the blue, I was scared. And yeah, Sam, I felt guilty. I felt like I was betraying your mother. I did some deep soul-searching. I talked with Father Charles. I realized that what I was feeling was okay. Healthy. It was time to move on."

"Oh."

"She makes me happy, Sam. I’m sorry for how I sprung this on you. I didn’t know exactly how to tell you. Please don't punish the woman I love because I'm a bumbling fool."

"Okay."

Barry jerked his thumb toward the front door. "So, let's have a good day. Susan and Allen will be home soon, and we can eat lunch. Allison gets home from work at four, and we're going to have fun."

"Allison works?"

"Oh, yeah. Over at The Addict."

Sam nodded slowly. She knew the coffee place but had never been there.

"Tomorrow, Susan will take you and Allison for lunch and shopping. Ladies' day out, quality time together."

Sam gritted her teeth. Great.

*****

After a tiny lunch of salad prepared by Her Evil Highness, Sam feigned a stomachache. She sneaked Corny upstairs, and they spent the afternoon holed up in her room. At four-fifteen, Barry coaxed Sam downstairs for "fun time." Sam followed her father to the dining room, and there, at the foot of the table and sitting next to Allen, was Allison. Her beauty had doubled since last night. Sam's brain turned to mush, but she managed to smile at her stepsister-to-be.

"Sit here." Allison patted the open seat on her other side, and Sam slid in. Play it cool.

Susan brought a box from under the table and waggled a knowing eyebrow at Sam. Shimmery pink paper covered the package, and a white bow topped it.

"You can read Susan's lips pretty well?" Barry asked.

"I guess."

"I wanted to give you a small something, darling. We can get lots more like this tomorrow at the mall!"

Sam could not look directly at the box; the pink was blinding. But at least Susan was making an effort. Sam took the gift and stripped the wrapping paper off. The present was a pink sweater. And too small for Sam, not that she'd want to wear it. Sam stared at the mangy thing. Ew. Double ew. After a few seconds, she remembered her manners and smiled. "Thank you," she signed to Susan.

"Go try it on!" Susan exclaimed.

Try it on? Hell no.

"Go try it on!"

Barry nodded eagerly. "Model that for us, sweetheart! You'll look great."

Sam’s gaze slid to the stack of Uno cards on the table. Cutesy, girly sweaters were not her thing, and that piece of crap would be hell to get on and off. "Later."

Susan apparently got the gist of Sam's message, because her face fell. "She doesn’t like it, does she, Beauregard?"

Barry steeled his jaw. "She likes it. Go try it on, sweetheart."

Sam pushed her chair back and clambered up to her room. She slid her loose-fitting T-shirt off and fought to get the pink monster on. She resorted to sucking in her stomach and praying for the best. The sweater clung to her like a second skin. She could hardly breathe. She felt like a tin man who needed oiling.

Fuck this.

Sam would go back downstairs, twirl around once, exactly once! After that, she would return to her room, get her scissors and cut the sweater off. She would never lay eyes on the stubborn, ugly fucker again for as long as she lived.

Susan lit up when Sam stepped into the dining room. "Perfect!" Susan shrilled. "Oh, Beauregard!" She clapped her hands together. "It’s a perfect fit!"

Barry brought his fingers to his lips and whistled. "Wow. You look great."

Allen giggled and pointed, and Sam felt her first wave of affection toward the boy. Finally, someone else understood how ludicrous the situation was.

But Allison's reaction sent tingles racing through Sam. Allison was not amused, like Allen was. She was not beaming from ear to ear like Susan and Barry were. She was staring, as if she were in awe. She was stunned.

Sam became aware of her own breasts straining against the tight sweater, of pointy nipples, and she crossed her tin-man arms.

"It’s much more form-fitting than what you had on before," Susan exclaimed. "Don’t you love it, Samantha?"

Sam smiled weakly, and Barry motioned for her to sit. "Come on, let's play."

Indecision tore at Sam. She hated the sweater; it was stiflingly small and fuzzy. It was making her itchy as hell. It was from that crazy Susan. But Sam knew what she saw. She knew what she saw. Or did she? Was she reading too much into Allison's wide, amazed eyes?

Sam took a tentative step forward, and then another. Fine. She could live with the sweater for a few more hours as a favor to her father and future stepmother. Plus if Allison liked how it looked...well, fine.

"So!" Barry boomed. "Time for me to whup y'all's butts." He dealt the cards, and Susan proceeded to drape herself over Barry. Sam hated the way Susan batted her eyelashes at Barry and caressed his shoulder, but most of all, she despised how her usually sensible father giggled at everything Susan said and did. He was a smart man. Why could he not see his fiancee was a superficial airhead?

Susan mouthed at Sam: "Has Allison told you about Joshua?"

The image of the wavy-haired youth flashed into Sam's mind. She hated the dude already.

"Joshua's great," Barry signed. "You'll love him."

"He couldn't join us today," Susan mouthed. "He had a basketball meeting. He made the all-conference team last year. As a sophomore! Imagine. What an honor." Susan talked some more, becoming so excited about Joshua that her words ran together. Sam could no longer understand Susan, which was definitely for the best.

After Susan finished her ramble, Barry chimed in, then Allison did. They were all talking, jabbering. No signing. Sam thought she caught the word "skirt" on Susan's lips a few times.

Sam settled in for another long night of being excluded, not that she expected anything else. She hated socializing with hearing people, and even after seventeen years, her father did not get it. The sweater was becoming more unbearable, and Sam cursed herself for leaving it on. Trying to impress Allison? Trying not to get grounded? So what?

The group played a few hands of Uno, and Sam's scowl deepened. Fucking hell. The sweater was killing her; it was freakishly itchy. Sam was ready to leap to her feet and rip the damn thing off with her bare hands. Then she was going to murder Susan.

Sam glanced around the dining room, wondering what they would have for dinner. More salad? Kiss my ass. Sam's gaze fell onto Allen. The boy, his green eyes big and round as usual, was studying her. He offered a shy smile, and Sam jerked her head. Whatever, kid. Stop staring.

Allen stuck his tongue out, and Sam could not help but grin. The kid was probably as bored as she was. Yeah, fine. Sam played along, sticking her tongue out. In response, Allen snaked his tongue out of his mouth until it reached the tip of his nose.

Sam cocked an eyebrow. Impressive. Wonder if Allison can do that.

*****

Allen won the first game. And the second. After his third victory, Allison turned to Sam and half-signed, half-spoke: "Don't feel bad about a three-year-old beating you. He’s obsessed with Uno."

Sam was grumpy and in no mood to joke. The only acknowledgement she bestowed upon Allison was a tilt of the head.

Allison nudged Sam. "You okay?"

"Fine."

"What's wrong? Are you mad at me?"

Sam chuckled. What was she supposed to say? I'm having the time of my life, except that, well, y'all are leaving me out, I hate your mother, a snotty-nosed brat is whipping my ass in Uno, this sweater is driving me up the wall, and oh, yeah, I wanna kill your boyfriend.

How was that?

"Not mad," Sam signed.

The game began, and, surprise, big, huge, giant surprise, Allen took an early lead.

"Sam, come on," Allison urged. "What's wrong?"

Fine. Sam scrawled her response: "I'm bored as hell. I have no fucking idea what anyone's saying."

Allison signed, "I'm sorry," then she wrote: "I didn't realize. I thought maybe that...I don’t know. Why doesn't your dad sign for you?"

Sam snorted and drew four Uno cards.

"No. What?"

Sam wrote: "He doesn’t mean to. It just… you know. I’m used to it."

She and Allison began to exchange written messages quickly, only stopping for their Uno turns. "I wish I wasn't so slow. I could interpret for you," Allison remarked.

"You all are probably talking about boring crap anyway."

"Well…" Allison paused for a second to pay more attention to the voiced conversation. "Barry and my mother are talking about going bird watching sometime."

Sam sat back smugly. "See. Boring crap." Wonder if you'd enjoy girl watching.

"What are you two writing about?" Barry asked, voicing and signing. "Plotting to wrestle the game from Allen?"

"I asked Sam why you don’t sign for her," Allison replied in voice and halting sign.

Barry froze, and Susan's gray eyes widened.

Sam shot Allison a hard, deep glower. It's my business. I don’t need you sticking up for me.

Barry laid his cards down. "I know I should. I forget. When you have all those conversations going on…" He caught himself not signing and threw a couple of clumsy signs in. "It’s no excuse."

Susan reached for his hand. "Of course you can’t do it all, Beauregard. Allison realizes that."

"No." Barry's reply was earnest, and he turned an appealing gaze on Sam. "I do need to sign more. I’m sorry."

Sam nodded. This was what happened every time. Barry promised to do better but forgot five minutes later. He did mean well, and it was not just him. Most hearing people did it, except for Julia. "Okay. Whatever."

The card game resumed, but without conversation. Allen won a few minutes later and announced he wanted to watch The Lion King.

Sam staked out the sole armchair in the living room. She was determined to stay as far from Allison as possible — not just because being around Allison made Sam light-headed, but because she was still miffed at Allison for nosing into her business. Barry and Susan curled up on the loveseat, and Allison and Allen sat on the couch.

After the movie started, Allen pointed at boxed words running across the bottom of the TV screen. "What's that?"

"That's the closed-caption," Barry explained. "That puts the sound into words so Sam can understand the movie. Like how the lights flash when the phone and doorbell ring."

"Cool!" Allen bounced in his seat as if he had won a prize.

Sam rolled her eyes. Get a life, kid. She settled back into her chair. She crossed her tin-man arms and fixed her attention on the TV. Lion King, okay. Lion King, yay! She tried to focus on the animals jumping across the screen, and with Allison only a few feet away.

Don't look. Don't look.

Sam knew she had willpower. She refused to give in to her temptation. She vowed not to look. She would not look. Wild horses could not make her peek. She would not look even if the couch burst into flames.

Sam looked. A tiny, furtive look, and it broke her heart. Allen was in Allison's lap, and his eyes were glued to the TV screen. Sam admitted to herself at last that the child was adorable and not too bad of a kid. Allen exclaimed something and wriggled. Allison pulled him closer. A pang of loneliness hit Sam, and she turned back to the TV. She stared at it blankly.

No. Don't think about them.

Sam balled her hands into fists. Her father had Susan, and Allison had Allen. But who did Sam have? Only that itchy, god-awful sweater she was going to fucking kill.

Chapter Five

After the movie and a "yummy" meal of grilled chicken and carrots, Sam retreated to her room. She got the hell out of the pink sweater. She tried reading a book. Tried playing one of her videogames. Tried drawing pictures. She was a pretty good artist. In fact, she had an idea for her bedroom walls. She wanted to combine scenes from several Disney movies. A drawing Sam had been messing with since Christmas showed the seven dwarves looking into a pond and seeing the reflections of seven normal-height men. Same clothes, same faces, same everything, just normal height. Maybe Sam would be ready to paint the walls for spring break.

None of the diversions succeeded. The love between Allison and Allen burned an ache in Sam's heart. They reminded her too much of her own brother. And her mother. Allison and Allen love each other, yay. So what? Good for them. They needed it, given who they were to each other. Sam's mother and Lucas had been worm food for ten years. Sam needed to get over it already.

After an hour of frittering away time, Sam decided to get the hell out of the house and clear her head. Maybe she'd stop by Paul's place. Paul was deaf and had been her friend since preschool. They could drink a few beers, knock back a few Jello shots. Sam would be fine as jelly then. Paul was a student at the Virginia School for the Deaf and Blind in Staunton. He came home weekends, holidays and for the summer. His entire family was deaf, and his parents didn't mind Paul and Sam drinking. Their philosophy was that kids were going to do it anyway, so better they do it at home. Of course, they did not tell Barry.

Sam unlocked her door and stepped into the hallway. Directly across from her in the guest room, Allison was tucking Allen into bed. Crazy how Susan and her posse had pretty much moved in already. Allison smoothed back Allen's hair and whispered into his ear. Allen giggled and shook his head. Allison waggled her fingers, and Sam guessed at what she meant. Tickle.

"No!" Allen shrieked, but Allison dove in anyway.

Sam's throat closed up. Had her mother tickled her and Lucas? Probably. Maybe Sam would do something alone tonight. No going to Paul's. The fact that Paul's family was deaf had not bothered her until a few years ago. Then, gradually, she had become jealous of Paul. He was never left out at the dinner table. He was an equal, functioning, participating member of his family. He did not have to struggle to communicate with his father.

More family togetherness was not something Sam wanted to witness tonight.

Allen caught sight of Sam. "Sammy!"

Shit. Sam wanted to flee back into her room.

Allison turned and let go of Allen. She gave Sam a shy smile. "Help me?" she asked.

Hell, no. I'm getting out of here and away from you two.

Allison handed Sam a pre-written note. It read: "Allen has a ton more signs he wants to learn. Would you mind teaching us a few? It'd be more fun than learning from the book. Here are some: Lion, king, mean, roar, Africa, cry, scar, bear, fish, goat (any animals!!!)."

"I'm leaving," Sam signed.

"Leaving?" Allison's furrowed brow implied she was not sure she had understood the sign.

"Leaving," Sam wrote. "Maybe another time."

Allen jumped out of bed and ran to Sam. He made the sign for helicopter and held his arms out.

Sam frowned. "What?"

Allen made the helicopter sign again, and Allison wrote: "He wants you to give him a copter ride, like Barry does. My rides are okay, he says, but you and Barry are taller. I'll show you." Allison lifted the kid over her head and took him for a few spins. He giggled and shrieked.

Sam edged away. Toodles, kid.

Allison brought Allen down for a crash landing on the bed. Allen ran to Sam and again made the sign for helicopter. Then he placed his hand on his chest and signed: "Please."

Good grief. "I'll show y'all a few signs," Sam wrote to Allison. "No copter."

*****

"No, that's the sign for fish, like if you're going fishing in a lake. This is the sign for fish, the slimy, yucky creature," Sam wrote. She arranged one of her hands perpendicular to the other and wriggled her right hand.

Allen and Allison copied Sam, then she moved on to the next word on their burgeoning list. Allen was a smart cookie. He was picking up sign better than Allison, as was usual with children. He was a sponge, a bundle of energy, absorbing everything. Making Sam laugh and smile, reducing her Grinch heart.

"I saw lion eat red fish," Allen signed, combining some of his newly learned words. He signed in English word order, but good student he was, remembered that there was no need for words such as "a," "an" and "the." If Allen and Allison were really serious about learning sign, Sam would help them later with American Sign Language. For now, English word order was fine. ASL was a true language, with its own grammar and syntax. Most of the time, Sam used something in the middle, something called pidgin. She used ASL signs but in English word order. Paul was pure ASL, but for better or for worse, Sam's life thus far had been in the hearing world.

"Good! You try." Sam indicated Allison.

"Lions like run in..." Allison bit her lip and scanned the list.

"Grass?" Allen signed.

Allison swatted the kid. "Show off."

The sign language lesson continued for thirty more minutes, until Allen's eyelids were drooping. Allison tucked him back in bed and kissed his forehead. He mumbled something Sam did not understand. "Hug," Allison explained.

Sam awkwardly patted the kid's shoulder, and he planted a big slobbery kiss on her arm. Christ, boy. Sam rubbed the kiss into her jeans.

Allison and Sam went into the hallway. "You didn't have to stay," Allison wrote. "But thank you. It meant a lot to Allen and me. So where you going?"

"I needed to get out. Anywhere. You want to come? We can practice more signs."

*****

They went to Denny's, which was open twenty-four hours, and shared a bowl of chocolate brownie fudge ice cream.

"I love signing," Allison half-signed, half-finger spelled. "I'm going to register me and Allen for a class through parks and rec."

"Great. I'm glad you like sign." Because I like you. A lot.

"I'm guilty, you know. I asked your dad that question. He gave me this look and explained that just like oral languages are different in different countries, so are sign languages."

"Yeah. Someone in the United States isn't going to spontaneously know the same signs as someone in Russia."

The conversation was mainly one big sign lesson. Sam and Allison did not touch on personal matters, except at the end, when Sam mentioned Paul. Both Sam and Paul had been deaf since birth, Paul because of genetics and Sam due to unknown causes.

"Is he your boyfriend?" Allison asked.

Sam blanched. "Yuck, no."

Allison wrote: "Your dad said he thought you two were dating."

"God. I can't believe Dad's still telling people that."

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

"Nope." Who said I was in the market for a man, anyway?

"Joshua's harmless," Allison wrote.

Harmless. Interesting word choice.

"He's wealthy. Good family. Handsome. Mom loves him. We're not exclusive, so he dates lots of other girls."

Sam was not sure how to answer. "Do you date other people too?"

"Gosh, no. Work, school and Allen keep me crazy busy."

"What's Joshua think about Allen?"

"He likes Allen." Allison smoothed her hair with her hand. "But he doesn't know. No one at school does."

"You mean that Allen's your kid?"

A shaky smile. "Right. They don't know."

"Why?"

Allison shrugged vaguely. "Too much back story. And I don't want them thinking I'm a freak."

"Is it weird?"

"Is what weird?"

"That he's your kid." Sam could not imagine having a child at her age. Hell, she could not imagine having a child ever. What had the molestation been like? "Molestation" could cover so many things.

"Enough about me. So Paul's not your boyfriend, but are you interested in anyone? What's your type of guy? What's most important to you in a guy? What's your fantasy dream wedding like? Bet there are lots of military hunks at your school."

Bleech. "We don’t have to talk about boys. I'm not one of your school friends. My life doesn't revolve around the hunk of the day."

Allison smiled. "So what does your life revolve around?"

"Ice cream."

Another smile, an appealing twinkle in Allison's eyes. Didn't last long. "Hey, Sam. Look at the time. Maybe we should go. Remember we have shopping tomorrow."

Sam did not want the night to end. She loved being with Allison, teaching her signs, laughing with her. And Sam was seventeen years old. Old enough to start taking ownership for herself, for her sexuality. Why not come out to this girl? The first person she would come out to.

Allison made the sign for bathroom.

Later. I'll do it later.

*****

The alarm shook Sam awake at ten-thirty. She had an hour and a half to get ready. She'd normally only need ten minutes, maybe fifteen, but she wanted to shower and look nice for Allison.

Before shopping, they would be going to lunch. The Castaway was one of Sam’s favorite restaurants. She loved the island-themed decor, which made her feel as if she were at a beach hundreds of miles from civilization. The restaurant's steaks and hamburgers were heavenly, but the place was also famous for its salads. Sam bet Susan would try to force-feed her one. Good luck, bitch.

*****

"We’re getting salads," Susan mouthed over her menu at The Castaway. "Grilled chicken salads and water. We all need to diet."

Allison hid behind her own menu, but Sam fished a notepad out of her pocket. She wrote: "I don’t need to diet. And I hate salad."

The waiter came up, and Susan requested three lemon waters and three fresh green grilled chicken salads. The server reached for Sam's menu, but she scooted it out of his reach and opened it. She pointed to what she wanted—steak, fries, a Coke.

The waiter frowned. "Steak? Changing your order?"

"Samantha!" Susan fanned her face with a napkin. "That’s a heart attack!" To the waiter: "She’ll have the salad."

The waiter shifted uneasily between Susan and Sam, but Sam held her ground.

Susan was the one to relent. "Fine." She shooed the waiter off. "Fine, Samantha. I didn’t want to cause a scene in public. But we need to make some changes to your diet."

Sam wrote, "Don’t worry about me."

"We have plenty of money today, so we're going to get you some nice ladies' clothes. No polo tops, no men's jeans. You're not always at military school. You need skirts and dresses."

Sam crossed her arms. Whatever, lady.

Susan continued: "Men like women in skirts and dresses."

"Maybe I don't give a shit what men think. My life's not going to revolve around a husband."

Susan gasped. The waiter returned with the drinks, and Sam sipped from her Coke. Now that's good stuff.

Susan shook her head. "Keep going down that road, all that sugar and empty calories, you're going to bloat up."

"Like I said, don't worry about me."

"Worry about you? You’re practically my child!"

"You will never, ever, ever, never, ever be my mother."

Susan's chin trembled, and Sam felt bad for a second. Susan was trying. Misguidedly, yes. But she was trying.

"Sorry," Sam scrawled.

"Maybe I won't be your mother, but I'm going to be your stepmother."

"Yes, fine. Fine."

"I have a diet plan in mind for you. It'll work very well with your boarding school environment. I will telephone the dietician there, and he—or she—should be able to modify—"

Sam saw stars. What? Dietician? Diet plan at school? She jerked her chair forward and wrote furiously. "I'm fine the way I am. You're the whale!"

*****

Sam spread out on the basement couch and entwined her hands behind her back. Grounded. Guess it had to happen sooner or later. It had been worth it to see Susan's mouth twist in shock at being called a whale. I will never apologize for that.

Sam stayed on the couch as the afternoon stretched on. The sky went from blue to orange and yellow, then gray. Sam did not move. She ignored her grumbling stomach. Her father had ordered her not to come upstairs until she was finished copying the first twenty pages of the "A" section in the dictionary. Like hell I'll do that.

Sam watched the last vestiges of the sun disappear behind the mountains. This is ridiculous. I need food! And the bathroom.

Thump-thump. Footsteps vibrated from above; someone was descending the stairs. That someone turned out to be Allison, and Sam sat up.

"Hey." Allison greeted Sam with a wave.

"Hi."

Allison handed over a note. It read: "Barry took Mom out for dinner and a movie. I thought you might want to come up. Allen and I are getting ready to eat Chinese. I ordered cashew chicken."

"Why do you let her do it?" Sam wrote.

"I don't understand."

"Your mother. Look at you. You're a few pounds underweight, if anything."

"I know how to deal with her. Remember the candy?"

"Why not stand up for yourself?"

"It's complicated. My mom's had a hard life. She's estranged from her parents because she ran off with my dad when she was eighteen. Her parents favor Jackie, my aunt, so much and—"

"Spare me the bullshit. Let's eat."

*****

The cashew chicken was delicious, and after dinner, Allison put Allen to bed.

"Dessert?" Allison wrote. "I have super-sized fudge rounds."

"No. You never gave me a good answer about your mother."

Allison's face contorted. "Drop it. I deal with her in my own way. We've been through a lot together. She's a good person. She means well, even if her methods might not be ideal."

The last thing Sam wanted was to drop the matter. She hated being stuck in the twilight zone, where her father thought Susan was a goddess and where Allison let her mother have free rein. "Did she get mad at you about Bob?"

Allison tensed. Looked away. Looked back at Sam, shook her head.

"She didn't get mad?"

"Not at me. At Bob. She supported me. She's a good mother. She really is."

Sam nodded, not trusting herself to write something acceptable.

"She made me go to counseling. I didn't want to, but she made me. So you see. She is a good mother. Her parents are rich. Her mother's a former beauty queen, former Miss Arkansas, former Miss America, all about dieting. My mom grew up with that philosophy."

"So did you, apparently. And you don't follow it."

"I guess not," Allison conceded.

Sam wanted to get smashed. Needed to get smashed. "Let's drink. It's been a hell of a day. Be right back."

Chapter Six

Allison stared at Sam's retreating figure. There was no way Allison was going to drink. Not after seeing her father, and then Bob, passed out all those nights. Not after Bob's thrusting inside her, muttering, "You like that, huh, baby? You need a real man, you need a real man, no need for lezzie magazines," with his hot, beer-laced breath. It was his breath Allison remembered more than anything else, at the oddest, most random moments. No, she was not going to drink.

Sam returned with Diet Mountain Dew and a half-full vodka bottle. "Know any good drinking games?"

"We can’t drink! We’ll be caught. You're supposed to be in the basement."

"We’ll just get buzzed and have fun."

"I’m not drinking."

Understanding appeared on Sam's expression. "You're a drinking virgin."

"So?"

"You won't taste it if you do it all at once. Swig it fast." Sam poured some Diet Dew and then dumped an extraordinary amount of vodka into a glass. She emptied the glass in two swigs.

Allison stared. Sam had hardly flinched while drinking all that stuff. She was an experienced drinker. Military school had not cured her hard-partying ways.

"Your turn," Sam said.

"No!" Allison snapped. She smelled Bob again, his breath, beer mixed with gum, and saw his leer. Allison dabbed at her eyes. Don't cry. Sam's going to think you're a freak.

Tears came anyway, tiny droplets trickling down her cheeks. Allison wiped them away furiously. She kept her gaze on a far wall, away from Sam.

Allison hated the thought that Sam was a drinker. Sam might as well have punched Allison in the stomach. And why? Because she had built Sam up as this ideal, perfect person. Someone who could do no wrong. Someone unlike the people Allison had known—Bob, her father, her mother, all her so-called preppy snob friends. But Sam was no different. She would hurt Allison, if not now, then eventually. Allison had only herself to blame; it was her own fault for projecting a fantasy onto Sam, onto that picture on the fireplace mantel. This was not a fairy tale. This was real life, and Sam was a real person, a very real person.

Sam squeezed Allison’s shoulder, but Allison ignored the gesture.

"You crying?" Sam signed.

"No." Allison wrapped her arms around herself. She felt lonely. She always did when she thought about her father and Bob, two men who never knew each other but who looked very much alike and acted very much alike.

"Will you go back downstairs?" Allison wrote. "Please. Take a plate with you so Barry thinks I brought you food."

Sam's expression was pained. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No."

"We don't have to drink."

Anger seized Allison. You fool. You imbecile. Here Sam was, trying to be her friend, and Allison was screwing it up. Sam was only being a normal seventeen-year-old. Normal teens drank. They smoked. They didn't take care of their three-year-old children, because they were normal and didn't have freaking three-year-old children. Sam was hurting too. She missed her mother and brother, and she was lonely. People left her out because she was deaf. She felt isolated. Allison and Sam were in the same boat in many ways. Maybe that was one reason Allison was so drawn to Sam—she sensed the despair in Sam, too.

Allison's anger compelled her to pour Diet Mountain Dew and vodka. She drank. And drank. The stuff tasted awful, but the sensation in her stomach was pleasant.

Yep.

It was pleasant.

She was not upset at Sam anymore about the vodka. Never really had been. She had not realized all those emotions were inside her, her buried anger at her father and Bob, had not realized how much she was falling for Sam.

Allison loved Sam's approving grin. "You like it," Sam signed.

Allison fixed a bit more for herself. "I do." She lifted her head and drank. Dayum. The taste really was bad.

Allison and Sam drank some more, then Sam tightened the cap on the bottle. "No more. Parents home soon."

Allison pouted, and Sam winked. "I'll do you a solid."

"Really?"

"I'll tell you where I hide the alcohol. Help yourself to it while I'm at school."

Help yourself to alcohol. Allison had a flash of herself passed out on the couch and Allen trying to wake her up. I'm not my father's daughter. Allison steadied Sam's hand before Sam could disclose the location of the alcohol.

"No," Allison wrote. "Don't tell me."

"Why?"

Time to open up a bit more. "I don't want to end up like my dad." I'm scared how much I like this. The room floated around Allison. She had no edges. She was a soft, gooey blur. Life was great. She had a great new friend, a great kid, great future stepfather, great, understanding mother.

"Okay," Sam wrote. "Is that why you were crying?"

Allison giggled. "Bob drank too." Why did you giggle?

"Ah."

"His dick was ugly. Tiny."

"Aren't all penises ugly?"

Allison laughed. Laughed so hard she cried, and then she put her head on Sam's shoulder.

*****

Sam hammered away at the video game she had snuck downstairs. Barry and Susan had returned about an hour earlier, and Barry had ducked in for a quick hello. Sam was a pro at the game, but her character kept dying. Shot. Macheted. Beheaded. Stomped. Disemboweled. Flung off a cliff. Flattened by a bulldozer. Boiled and sauteed. So many ways to die. Sam hardly noticed. On her fiftieth death, she gave up.

Allison, Allison, Allison. Sam cringed thinking about Allison's tears, Allison's dick comment. Sam had never felt more helpless, yet she was wondering even more what it was like to kiss Allison. Sam had wanted to ask for more details on the molestation. More for Allison than for herself, because she sensed Allison had an overwhelming need to talk about it.

Fear had kept Sam from asking. She did not want to accidentally wound Allison.

Sam wrinkled her nose, smelling something that had not been there before. Old Spice. Her father's cologne. She jerked her head up, and there was Barry. Damn, he had been quiet going down the steps. "Upstairs. Now."

Sam met her father in his office.

"Where are the twenty pages from the dictionary?" Barry asked.

"Didn't do them."

Barry sighed. "You're my baby girl," he signed in his rusty fashion. "It kills me that you don't get along with Susan. She's the most wonderful woman in the world. I'm happier with her than I've been in a long time. Please, Sam." His expression begged for understanding. "At least make the effort to be civil. Don't call her names."

"Susan's not who you think she is."

Barry looked weary past his years. "Susan's worked hard all her life. Being a single mother after Phillip died was not easy. She's had a hard life, and then the..." Another sigh. "Julia said she told you about Allison being Allen's mother."

"Yes."

"I love Susan. I need companionship, love, happiness, and Susan provides that for me. I know for a fact that she's really excited about getting to know you. Please."

Sam worked to keep her face expressionless. "Fine. Whatever."

"You go back to school tomorrow afternoon. Let's try to enjoy the time we have left."

"Whatever."

"Look, you two are very different people. It's been you and me for ten years. I've taught you how to play basketball, football, how to fix cars. I've done the best I can on my own, and I thank my lucky stars Julia’s been around to help. My point is, you're used to the rough and tumble. Susan's more..." Barry's face took on a dreamy quality. "She's soft and feminine. She likes different things than you do, so of course there are going to be clashes. In fact, the two of you are very similar. You're strong willed. Opinionated. I love that about the both of you. The key here is to compromise and respect each other's differences."

"Tell that to her."

"I did. Tonight. She's going to try. No diet plan for you. Won't you try?"

Sam stood and hugged her father, but she knew deep down that he had made the second-biggest mistake of his life by getting engaged to Susan Albrecht.

She hoped he would not make the biggest mistake by actually marrying Her Evil Highness.

*****

Allison's shift had started five minutes ago, and already she had earned stern looks from Mr. Dierksen. She had messed up a couple of orders. And now she had spilled soup on the floor.

"What's wrong?" Mr. Dierksen asked.

"Nothing," Allison mumbled. Sam was leaving today, probably had already, and they would not be saying goodbye. Allison had been up at six a.m. for school and would not be home until after eleven p.m. She would not see Sam until spring break in a month and half.

Allison fetched a mop to clean up the soup mess. She dipped the mop into a bucket of cleaning solution. In, out, swirl left, in, out, swirl right. She completed the task but took no satisfaction in the gleaming floor. She returned the mop and the bucket to their proper places. She set out a yellow caution sign at the slick area.

"Allison?" Mr. Dierksen called. "Customer."

The customer was Jersey Woman, sans baby. Wow. She gave Allison a huge, apologetic grin. "My grandma fell Saturday. We had to go to the hospital. Sorry about that."

"I hope she's okay."

"She'll get there. I was on my way home and remembered you. Ten cents, right?"

"Actually, no. You gave me $2.50."

"Is that right? Lord. I've never been good at math. Okay, then." The Jersey customer handed over two fresh one-dollar bills and two shiny quarters. She ordered another coffee and brownie. She paid and bade Allison goodbye.

Allison waved goodbye. "Drive home safely."

Wow. Wow. Allison felt like grabbing Mr. Dierksen and dancing. People were not so bad after all. She prepared another customer's order, and then another. At last, she was able to get back to Sam daydreaming. Then Sam walked in, and Allison's stomach and heart did crazy things.

Sam offered a shy smile. She reached into her pocket for a notepad and pen. "Hopping here."

Allison’s thoughts floundered. "We'll get busy soon."

"You okay?"

"Surprised."

Sam grinned. "I wanted to say goodbye. I had fun last night."

"Me too." Allison was tempted to ask Sam where the alcohol was, and that alone told her she would not be able to handle knowing the information.

Allison and Sam sat by a window. The day was sunny, the skies blue, pushing the skeletal trees into the background. "Nice day for your drive back to school."

Sam shrugged. "I hate the drive. Boring."

"Four hours, right?"

"Yeah. Could be worse. Some of the kids, especially the deaf ones, come from as far as California."

"Wow. Lot of deaf kids there?"

"Fifteen. Out of two hundred." Sam reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of white construction paper. She handed it to Allison.

Allison unfolded the paper to reveal a bunch of lines and squiggles that were, apparently, from the title, COPTER RIDE, supposed to resemble Sam playing with Allen.

"Allen made me promise to hang it up at school."

"Will you?"

"Of course."

"Allison?" Mr. Dierksen called from behind the counter. "Break’s up."

Ugh. Great. Allison nodded to indicate she heard. She stood. "Break's over," she signed.

"Sure." Sam slowly got to her feet. "See you at spring break."

"Thank you for coming. You made my day."

"You can't stay a little more?"

"I wish I could."

"Okay. Bye." Sam hesitated, then turned halfway to leave. She hesitated some more. "Bye."

Allison ran after her. "Sam. Wait. Do you...tell me where the alcohol is."

Sam blinked, and something like dismay entered her expression.

Shit. "No," Allison said. "Don't tell me."

"Do you have e-mail?" Sam asked.

Sam and Allison exchanged e-mail addresses and hugged an awkward goodbye. After Sam left, Allison pretended she had not asked about the alcohol. She jacked her daydreaming up a notch. She imagined Sam taking her hand in hers, leaning in for a kiss. Their tongues would meet and explore each other's mouths.

"Was that Sam?" Mr. Dierksen asked. "You should've introduced us. How's the signing going?"

"Yep, that was Sam. We're good. Pretty good, yeah."

Chapter Seven

A long couple of months had passed, but at last, Dino flew south down the highway. Sam was pensive, dreading seeing Susan and excited about seeing Allison. Tomorrow, Susan would officially become Sam's stepmother in a small ceremony. Sam's paternal grandparents, the senator and Mrs., were visiting for the weekend. They would also be at the wedding and reception tomorrow. Small wedding, huge reception. More socializing with hearing people. Great.

On Sunday night, Barry and Susan were jetting off for a honeymoon. They would be back Saturday afternoon. That left Sam to watch Allen, because Allison would be working a lot. Sam did not mind too much baby sitting Allen, but the mere thought of Allison sent Sam's stomach into knots. It was because of Allison that Sam missed her exit. "Shit," she muttered. She took the next exit to get back on track.

Sam turned onto her street. It would just be her, Allison and Allen while their parents honeymooned. The two months away from home had done nothing to diminish Sam's crush on Allison. If anything, it had grown. She and Allison (and Allen) had e-mailed often, nothing serious or elaborate. Allison mostly talked about Allen and the sign language classes they were taking through parks and recreation. Still, any day Sam got an e-mail from Allison turned out to be perfect. Sam also wondered if Allison had attempted to find the alcohol stash. If she had, she was out of luck. Something in Allison's eyes at The Addict had scared Sam. She'd returned home, said she forgot her wallet, and taken the liquor back with her. She'd gone to a few underground parties at school since. She used to get pretty buzzed. She had not since leaving Allison. Just that look in Allison's eyes, her tears. Sam wanted to be the best person she could be for Allison.

Sam was pussy whipped. Yep, she was, and she was not sure she liked it.

Sam pulled Dino into the garage. Corny bounced up, and Sam took a few seconds to survey her hair and her teeth. All set. Sam willed her nerves to stabilize. Allison was just a girl. A pretty girl.

"Whuff! Whuff!" Corny rammed his head into Sam.

"Hey, boy." Sam crouched and tousled the mutt's fur. "How's it hanging? Come on."

As Sam was about to open the door connecting the garage and the kitchen, a small but vigorous pup beat her to the task. Upon closer inspection, Sam concluded that the canine was none other than Allen. He wrapped himself around Sam's leg but let go for a second to sign: "Copter! Copter!"

"Later." Sam bent down to hug the kid.

When Sam straightened, Allison was there, with a huge welcoming grin. "Hello."

Sam's pulse lurched. She's gotten more beautiful. "Hi."

"Copter! Copter!" Allen tugged at Sam’s pants. "Copter!"

"Sam just got home," Allison chided Allen, in smooth sign. "Let her put her things up, then ask nicely."

Sam blinked. And blinked. A warmth filled her stomach. Here Allison was, investing time, money and energy into learning sign language. "Wow. Your signing is great."

A blush. "Thank you."

"Where's my dad?"

"Barry and Mom went to pick up dinner with your grandparents. They'll be back soon."

Allen exhibited a book. "Snowmen. Read with me."

Eh. Fine. Might as well. "Sure." Sam carried Allen to her bedroom, and Allison followed. They sat on the bed, and Allen thrust the book into Sam’s lap.

Sam flipped to the first page. "Once upon a time—"

"No!" Allen howled.

"What?"

Allison poked Sam in the ribs. "You have to read it a different way each time. Last time it was about a princess rescuing a lion."

"So the book's about snowmen, and it has pictures of snowmen, but I ignore all that?"

"Exactly." Allison threw Allen an indulgent gaze. "He’s a crazy boy."

Sam thought quickly. "Okay." She clasped the book shut. "A long time ago—"

"No!" Allen cried again. He opened the book to the first page.

"You need to keep it open," Allison clarified.

Sam studied the first page, which displayed a snowman donned in a flannel hat and flannel tie. He stared back at her, mocking her with his coal eyes and corncob pipe. "It was a dark and stormy night—"

"Al told me that one already!"

Allison nodded. "It’s true. Sorry."

"My story has a different middle and ending," Sam protested.

Allen looked back at her reproachfully.

"Okay, okay. There was a mean old man who lived in the woods..." Sam paused, expecting Allen to object again. Thankfully, he did not. "His name was Bill, and—"

"No! His name was Alex!"

"Alex. And he lived in a—"

Allen leaped from the bed and flew out of the bedroom.

"What did I do?" Sam asked.

"Your dad," Allison explained. "He's home. Hey, thanks for putting up with Allen. And for being willing to watch him next week."

"No big deal."

Allison inched closer to Sam, so that their legs were touching. "It's good to see you. I liked e-mailing you, but this is better," Allison said.

Sam swallowed, wondering if her cheeks were as red as they felt. Why was Allison touching her? There was no need to. This felt suspiciously like...

Forget it. Get over her.

The lights flashed, and Allison stood. "Your dad yelled that you need to go down and say hi to your grandparents. And we're having salad for dinner."

Sam laughed. "It’s good to be home." She meant it, because she was with Allison.

*****

Allison was tempted to dump her salad on Susan's head. "Beauregard!" Susan cooed for the hundredth time. "Are you sure you won't tell me where you're taking me on the honeymoon?"

Barry smiled playfully. "No can do, baby."

Allison interpreted everything the best she could and also did her best not to roll her eyes at Sam.

"You can stop," Sam said. "I don't need to know this shit."

Allison was kind of glad. Talk about hard. All these overlapping, crazy conversations. Her signing was much improved, but she was still an amateur, a fumbling newbie. But no one else would interpret. Susan was not learning sign. Sam's grandparents did not know sign. And Barry...gosh. He made Allison so mad sometimes with how he left Sam out. He was a great guy, a decent guy. But...anyway.

"Where did you go for your first honeymoon?" asked Barry’s mother, Nancy, who suspiciously resembled Susan, save thirty years' age difference. Chalk one up for the psychiatrists.

Susan frowned. "Nowhere. Phillip and I couldn't quite afford it."

Barry's father, Victor Cannizarro, cleared his throat. Victor was a Maryland senator, and like Susan had said, not the crappy state kind. No, Victor was the true deal, a United States senator. He was huge in Maryland politics and had held pretty much any political office someone could in Maryland, even governor. Allison would never forget the night her mother came home from her first date with Barry. Susan looked like she was high on drugs; her eyes gleamed manically. "He's a senator's son!" Susan had trilled. "A senator's son! We might have it made, Allison Alexandra. We just might have it made."

Susan had been driving Allison crazier than usual lately with the wedding and reception preparations. Susan loved to throw in the 's' word whenever she could: Senator Cannizarro this, Senator Cannizarro that. The wedding and reception had to be perfect. Susan wanted a huge wedding as well, but this was one place Barry held his ground. He told her to pick either the wedding or the reception to go big on. He said he was not as rich as she must think. "We're going to have two girls' college educations to pay for soon," Barry explained.

"Phillip died when Allison was ten years old, right?" Victor asked.

Susan shifted uncomfortably. "Yes. We moved up here to be near Jacqueline, my sister."

Well, yes. But we moved after Bob, not because of Dad's death. Allison wondered if Barry's parents knew she was Allen's biological mother. Probably. Everyone told everyone behind her back.

Susan leaned toward Victor. "Now, Jacqueline is married to Troy Cooper. He's a lovely man; he might run for Roanoke City Council. He'd love to meet you at the reception tomorrow night, Senator."

Victor's eyes twinkled. "Certainly! Now, what about your parents? Are they still in Arkansas? What do they do?"

Susan's face clouded over. "They live in Little Rock. Daddy's a doctor."

Barry squeezed Susan's hand. "Susan's estranged from her parents. They've hardly spoken to her since she ran off with Phillip in high school."

"That's simply awful!" Nancy clucked.

Susan shoveled salad into her mouth, and Allison felt sorry for her mother. It was shitty of her parents to reject her like that.

Susan swallowed her salad and beamed at everyone. "So, Allison," she said. "Tell Victor and Nancy how Hank founded the Young Republicans' club at school." Susan waved for Sam and mouthed: "You will love Hank, Allison’s boyfriend. He has the cutest dimples!" Susan poked her fingers into her cheeks to demonstrate.

Damn. Allison was scared to look at Sam. Allison had refrained from mentioning Hank in her e-mails, the justification being that like with Joshua, Allison did not like Hank romantically. Therefore, he was not worth mentioning. Hank was convenient, a basically decent guy who was drawn to her looks and who enjoyed not being exclusive. However, a small part of Allison knew why she had kept quiet. Allison would not dwell on the matter, at least not now. She had dwelled on it enough, late at night in bed, thinking about Sam, her eyes, her kissable lips. What her breasts would be like.

Allison finally risked a glance at Sam, whose face was dark. "How long have you been going out?" Sam asked.

Allison wanted to duck under the table. "A month? Sorry I forgot to tell you."

"Whatever. Who cares?"

*****

Sam could not bring herself to return Hank's smiles throughout the reception dinner and the toasts. He kept grinning at her, his gaze usually settling on her breasts. A few times, he winked at her and ran his tongue over his lips. Eeek. Hank was the same with Julia, perhaps more so. Julia politely ignored the advances and kept interpreting for Sam.

Senator Cannizarro and Hank were getting along smashingly. At the moment, Hank was telling Sam's grandfather all about the Young Republicans club he founded at school, and the senator stage-whispered to Allison that she had made a fine choice in a young man.

Sam glowered at her grandfather. Pin a fucking rose on your nose, why don't you?

The senator turned to Barry. "Ready for the dance competitions?"

Barry grinned. "Oh, am I ever. But let Susie and I have the first one all to ourselves, hmm?"

"Of course."

Ten minutes later, Barry and Susan strode to the dance floor. Their beams generated enough wattage to power the room, and when the first dance ended, their grins had not diminished. They were still crazy in love with each other, and Sam would have to find a way to deal with it. Susan Cannizarro was her stepmother, her father's wife, no way around it.

The second dance began, and Sam picked up her stepbrother. They waltzed around the floor, and Allen shouted in glee.

Senator Cannizarro danced with Susan for the third dance, and Sam took her turn with Barry. "Congratulations," Sam signed as the dance ended. She forced herself to smile. "You're happy."

Tears came to Barry's eyes. "Oh, Sam, I love you."

"Yeah. Love you too." Sam kissed him on the cheek and searched for her date. She found Allen hiding under a table and cajoled him back to the dance floor so she could keep tabs on Allison and Hank. They were slow dancing rather awkwardly. Sam thanked her lucky stars that she had nabbed the ideal date. Allen was a little cherub with a charming grin, and his blond hair was slicked and gelled back.

After a few circuits of the dance floor, Sam's stomach grumbled. Hungry again. She and Allen made their way to the buffet. Sam heaped a high pile of food for them and led Allen to a table.

Then it was time for more Allison and Hank watching.

Allison was clearly uncomfortable with her boyfriend; she stiffened every time he put his arm around her. She deflected his kisses. He kept peering at Julia, who was dancing with Gerald, and at the curvaceous daughter of one of Susan’s friends. Allison did not seem to care one bit. She actually grinned in relief when Hank went to dance with the curvaceous chick. What she wants and needs is a girlfriend. Me. Yeah, right. Wishful thinking. Allison's behavior was more likely due to molestation aftereffects.

Sam gulped down a glass of punch. Hank was otherwise occupied, so why not ask Allison to dance? The first few songs had been slow, but all since then had been fast. It would be fine.

Sam tapped Allison on the shoulder. "Let's dance."

Allison went pale. "What?"

"Dance with me?"

"I'm bad. I'll step all over your feet."

"Waltz," Sam finger spelled. "We'll start with the waltz. Simple. I'll teach you."

"Not waltz music."

"So?"

An unreadable emotion flitted across Allison's face, and she ventured a glance at her mother. Susan was wrapped up with Barry and the senior Cannizarros. Each couple was trying to out-dance the other.

Geez, Allison. Do you always have to know where your mother is?

"This is Mom's party. We shouldn't upstage her."

"How would we upstage her by dancing together?"

Allison avoided Sam's eyes. "It maybe wouldn't look right."

"You know what doesn't look right? You flinching every time your boyfriend touches you. You ducking every time he tries to kiss you. Joshua got tired of it, so you had to find another guy. Poor Hank."

"It isn't like that."

Sam was impressed. Her signing had been fast and furious, and maybe Allison had not understood every word, but she had gotten the gist. "Dance with me." Sam indicated the people around them. "Most of these people aren't touching each other. It will be fine. Look! Your mother's dancing with my grandmother."

"I want to. I'd really like it. But I can't."

Sam studied her stepsister a long moment: the frustration lined in her face, the yearning in her eyes. And, suddenly, Sam was glad, very glad, that Allison was reluctant to dance.

Allison liked her. Liked liked her, Samantha Cannizarro. Allison had learned sign and e-mailed her a lot. Allison did not want to dance with Sam because she was afraid maybe they'd touch, and then maybe they'd kiss and...

Sam wanted to shout. She wanted to hug every person in the room, Susan included. Yep, Her Evil Highness included. A girl liked Sam back. Finally. Finally.

Dream on. You're projecting. She doesn't like you.

"Okay," Sam agreed. "We won't dance now. Next week, maybe? The waltz is really cool. I promise."

*****

Allison undressed for bed and massaged her feet. She hated high heels, but at least the shoes for the wedding and reception had not caused blisters. Ahhh. The massaging felt good, but Sam doing it would be better. No, not really. Allison chuckled. Sam massaging my sweaty, smelly feet being better, yeah right.

Allison tucked herself into bed. The day had been long, but she was not sleepy. She closed her eyes and imagined dancing with Sam, Sam's arms around her. Her breasts with Sam's.

Allison snaked her right hand into her underwear. She knew how to touch herself, but half the time when she tried, she ended up thinking about Bob. She usually stopped these times. Back when she had been in therapy, the counselor asked her on several occasions if she touched herself. Allison's reply every time was no, and the counselor responded along the lines of: It's okay if you do.

Okay if you do, okay if you do.

Bob had come to her three times. In other words, been inside her three times. He worked at his dad's car repair shop, and Susan answered telephones there. The first time was when Bob was sick and stayed home. Allison got home from school about two-thirty. At three o'clock, Bob walked right into her room without knocking. She shoved the lesbian magazine she was reading under her pillow.

Bob winked. "What you reading?"

"Nothing."

Bob fished gum out of his pocket. "Want a stick?"

"No."

He grabbed the magazine and flipped through its pages. "Looky here, looky here. You a lezzie?"

"No."

Another wink. "You don't need this. What you need is a real man." His breath was hot, and his medicine apparently had been several cans of beer. He went away with the magazine, and for the next hour, Allison agonized. Her mother would be furious when she got home at six o'clock. But maybe not. Maybe Susan would understand, maybe Susan would...

Bob returned at four o'clock. "Come here," he said, a gleam in his eyes. "Come give Bob a hug."

She did not want to, absolutely did not want to, but she went to him. She felt his thing poking into her, and he kissed her.

Kissed her for the first and only time.

She was too shocked and scared to do anything.

After it was over, Bob said to wash her bloody sheets. He let her keep the magazine. Over the next month, he left work early two times, feigning sick. He did the same things. Allison supposed it could have been worse. He pounded inside her, yes, but he was gentle going in.

Allison had never told anyone about the lesbian magazine and the clit thing. Neither had Bob. He had shown her where her clit was. "Your magic button," he called it. He wanted her to touch herself to get wet before he went in. She did her best. At least he did not try to kiss her again, touch her breasts, go down on her, nothing like that. Yes, it could have been worse.

Allison shook her head. Dancing with Sam. I'm dancing with Sam. They were alone in the reception hall, and miracle of miracles, a bed adorned one end of the dance floor. Sam kissed her, and suddenly they were both naked. Sam sucked at one of Allison's breasts and laid her gently on the bed.

Yes, yes, yes...

Allison teased herself a bit longer. She did not like to come too quickly. She wondered if Sam masturbated. She imagined Sam touching herself.

Chapter Eight

Much to Sam's relief, the next couple of days flew by. The Easter Bunny brought clothes and fruit instead of toys and candy. Apparently, he was on the same wavelength Susan was. On Sunday afternoon, Sam bade goodbye to her grandparents and endured a talk with her father about taking care of Allen. "I'll be fine," she repeated, but he pressed on.

"Text Julia if you need help. Remember, Mrs. Robinson down the street loves Allen. This is your chance. Show us you've changed, that you've matured. Prove yourself to us."

Sam scowled. "Allen and I will be fine. Now get to the airport."

*****

Sam awoke to an audience the next day. Allen's green eyes and Corny's brown eyes studied her with grave interest. Good grief. Sam craned her neck to check the time—12:03.

Allison poked her head through the doorway. "Allen! Don't bother Sam." She peeled the boy off the bed.

"It's fine," Sam countered with a grin. Her stepsister was a sight for sore eyes. She wore a sweater that left no doubt as to the suppleness of her breasts. Hope we can spend the afternoon together.

"Glad to see you're up," Allison said. "Want to go out for lunch? My treat."

Corny whuffed and snorted at the mention of lunch. His tail slapped Sam’s face, and Sam groaned. "I can't think. I just woke up."

"See you downstairs in a few minutes." Allison scooped Allen up, and they left the room.

"Do you think she likes me?" Sam asked.

Corny's reply was a pant.

Sam mussed her dog's head. "I think she does. Because—well, little things here and there. You think?"

Corny bowed his head.

"Thanks, buddy."

*****

Allison and Sam ambled to the order counter at Chuck E. Cheese, while Allen darted for the jumble of multicolored plastic balls in a screened playground.

"Be careful!" Allison called. "Take your shoes off!"

Sam reached the cashier first. "Hello. How can I help you?" the young man asked.

Sam held up her index finger, mouthed "one" and pointed to the menu.

"Number one?" the cashier asked.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sam saw Allison gasp. "Excuse me. We're getting number three."

Sam shook her head and repeated the order.

"No," Allison protested.

Sam took Allison aside. "We're getting number one," Sam insisted. "I'm paying."

"I can pay. This was my idea, remember? I'm treating you and Allen."

"Don't argue. I want lots of tokens."

"Number one’s fifty dollars! At least let me pay you for me and Allen."

Sam watched Allen go down a slide. "Use your money for something more worthwhile. You're part of the family. My dad left like five hundred dollars. It's his money I’m using."

"I'm not a charity case."

"Come on," Sam urged. "My father and your mother are off in the Caribbean or the Alps or Paris or Venice or wherever. Let's live it up, too."

"Okay, okay." Allison grinned, but the sentiment did not quite reach her eyes.

After they ordered, they joined Allen, who struggled to his feet and ran to a token-operated fire truck. "Wanna ride!"

Allison indicated Allen's sock-covered feet. "Shoes."

Allen hastily Velcroed his Nikes on and leaped onto the fire truck. A few minutes later, Allison announced that their pizza was ready.

Allen shrieked. "Pizza! Pizza! Pizza! Come on, Sammy!" He grabbed Sam's hand.

*****

Sam, Allison and Allen dug into the pizza with gusto, but before long, Allen was back to riding trucks, cars and motorcycles.

"Tell me a story about yourself," Allison asked Sam as they finished the last two slices.

"Not much to tell."

"Something from school," Allison persisted. "What do you get up to?"

Sam thought a moment. "Want to hear what a bunch of my pals and I did to the headmaster?"

Allison leaned forward expectantly, and Sam told of the time she and some friends hotwired the headmaster’s car, hooked it to a hose, and filled it with water and plastic fish. "He never caught us, but I'm pretty sure he suspected who was behind that."

Allen dashed up. "More gold!"

Sam gaped. "You had fifteen!"

Allen held out empty palms. "All gone!"

Sam rolled her eyes. "Come on. Let's play Skee-ball."

They weaved their way through the various games. Sam beat Allison at Skee-ball, but Allison was a pro at the clown shooting and the gopher hammer games. The two of them amassed an impressive quantity of tickets, while Allen spent most of his coins on rides. When the tokens dwindled to a precious few, Sam and Allison ran their tickets through the counting machine. "I have five hundred. You?" Sam asked.

"Five hundred and fifty!" Allison bragged. "I'm gonna get something Allen likes."

"Here's four hundred. Get him something cool. I'm gonna play one more game of basketball."

Sam went over to the basketball game and scored a few more tickets. When she joined her stepsiblings at the prizes counter, Allen held out a foam football. "You teach me!"

Allen’s obvious adoration touched Sam. Yes, fine, okay, she liked the kid. She liked him a lot. If she had to have a stepbrother, Allen Albrecht would do. "Cool."

Allison took Allen to the bathroom, and Sam studied the prizes. She settled on a plastic purple ring. It would be perfect on Allison.

Once she, Allison and Allen were outside, Sam reached into her pocket. "Hey." She proffered the ring. "It keeps the cooties away. Just…" Sam suddenly felt like an idiot: clumsy, stupid, cheesy. What were you thinking? "It might come in handy some day. Cooties are nasty."

"For me?"

"If you want. No big deal if you don’t."

Allison smiled, and the smile reached her eyes. "I want it." Something passed between them, something sexual. Something physical, something passionate, and Allison's cheeks colored. Arousal? Embarrassment?

"You sure?" Sam asked.

"I’m sure." Allison held her hand out, and Sam slipped the ring on. She let her touch linger longer, way longer, than it had to.

*****

I’m gonna be sick, Sam thought. She was on the couch, and she creaked her head toward her stepbrother and her stepsister on the loveseat. Allen was positively green. Sam’s stomach was ready to explode, but she needed to eat one more chocolate chip cookie to tie Allison in a wager they had made.

An entire box. Allison had wolfed her cookies down as if the task was nothing, and Allen had performed admirably for a three-year-old, eating six cookies.

Sam stared at her remaining cookie. What had she been high on?

Just one more. She could do it. Yes, she could.

She stared some more at the plump chocolate-chip treat, and it mocked her. Ha ha ha, you can't eat me, can you? You're going to puke your guts out all over Allison. You romantic thing, you!

Time to concede defeat. "You win," Sam informed Allison.

A light flashed.

"Door!" Allen took off pell-mell. A moment later, he dragged Julia into the living room. He held up a wrapped caramel square. "Candy!"

Sam groaned. "We just had a bunch of cookies."

Julia smiled apologetically. "He enjoyed the squares at the reception."

Allison waved her hand. "It's fine. He'll eat it later. Right, Allen?" She signed and spoke at the same time, and yet again Sam found herself absolutely amazed at how good Allison signed. She was nowhere near as good as Julia, of course, but Allison looked like she had been signing a year at least.

Allen nodded eagerly. "Later!" He unwrapped the candy and popped it into his mouth.

"So how are things going?" Julia asked.

"It's been fun." Allison laughed. "I've had the day off today, but tomorrow I'm afraid Allen's going to be stuck with Sam's cooking."

"Poor boy."

"Sammy's going to paint my room!" Allen cried.

"Wow!"

"Oh, hey, Julia," Allison said. "You must have some good stories about Sam from when she was a little girl."

Julia took a seat on the couch. "Don't tell her anything," Sam urged.

Allison waggled her eyebrows. "Come on."

"Here's one."

Sam buried her face in her hands but peeked out between her fingers.

"Sam was Allen’s age. Her mother and I were having a church social at my house, and Sam had just arrived from preschool. In a few minutes, she had the old ladies in gales of laughter as she went around boasting a new sign she'd learned. She was bowing to each person and flipping the bird. Norene and I were aghast. Imagine what those old biddies were thinking!"

Allison laughed, and Sam grimaced. Her aunt had told one of the less embarrassing stories, but still.

"I'll tell you more stories some other time," Julia promised Allison. "I need to get going. I'm glad all's well here: no burned-down house." Julia slipped Allen another piece of candy, and Sam escorted her aunt to the door.

"So." Julia fixed Sam with a probing, piercing stare.

"What?"

"You seem to be getting along really well with them."

Sam kept her expression neutral, although her heart was beating guiltily. How could her aunt know? She did not. She could not. How would she? "Yeah. So?"

Julia scrutinized Sam's face. "Nothing. I think it's great. She’s a lovely girl." Julia leaned in for a hug. "Come see me sometime this week."

Sam watched her aunt drive off. She's a lovely girl. No mention about Allen. Julia knew. Probably. Shit.

*****

Friday arrived too soon for Sam. Barry and Susan would be home the next evening. Then it'd be back to military school Sunday night. I hardly got to see Allison. No fair. Allison had arrived home every night bone-tired. She had wanted to take advantage of her time off school to make as much money as she could. In the process, she had worn herself out and had pretty much gone straight to bed every night.

Sam waited up for Allison on Friday night. Sam could not bear the thought of returning to military school with everything in limbo, of going through another couple of months wondering: Does she like me? Does she like me? Does she like me?

At precisely eleven-seventeen p.m., Allison staggered into the kitchen.

"Hey." Sam stood to greet her stepsister, but Allison fell onto the couch. "Long day?" Sam asked.

"Is the pope Catholic?"

Sam chuckled. "Allen wore me out today."

"Yeah, I'm sure." Allison lifted her feet onto the ottoman. "I'm exhausted."

Sam sat next to Allison but was not brave enough to touch her. "You don't need to be working so hard."

"I don't feel right taking your father's money."

"You didn't need to work this week. It’s your spring break."

Allison snorted, but that was her only reply.

Allison smelled like coffee, like hazelnut, but above all, like herself. The Allison-smell. "You smell good."

Allison was incredulous. "I smell like yucky coffee. It's probably ingrained in my hair."

"You don’t smell yucky. At all. I like how you smell."

"I like how you smell, too."

More warm fuzzies in Sam's stomach. "What do I smell like?"

"Like Play-Doh. I don't know. You smell like you."

Sam decided to be brave. "You up for that waltz?"

Allison tensed. She bit her lip.

"That's all right," Sam plugged on. "I understand."

"I’m just so tired."

Sam wanted to cry. She had been reading Allison all wrong. Her heart crashed to her stomach. You stupid fool, Samantha Cannizarro. "You're not going to miss me."

Allison drew back, hurt lining her expression. "What?"

"You won't miss me. You'll find a new boy and—never mind."

"You're wrong," Allison said. Her gaze was tentative, but something in it sent thrills through Sam’s body. "I will miss you. Will you miss me?"

"Yes. A lot." Sam wanted to say more, much more, but something stopped her. Fear, nervousness, panic, disbelief, whatever.

"Summer will be here soon," Allison tried.

"Not that soon."

"Guess not."

Sam ventured a tentative finger. Brushed Allison’s hand. Allison wore the purple ring, and Sam loved her for it. "Could we hang out this summer? When you’re not working?"

"I would like that."

"Is Hank a good kisser?"

Allison made a face. "I guess."

"Why the face?"

"Don't know," Allison said.

"Are you scared to kiss because of, you know."

"Bob?"

Sam nodded, hoping she was not being too nosy or invasive.

"I'm not scared to kiss," Allison said.

"You don't like Hank kissing you."

Allison gave a little smile. "I'm not sure I like him much. He may be headed for the big break-up room in the sky."

Sam grinned. "What's that room like?"

"Green. Hard furniture."

"No angels, no halos?"

"Nah. And the vending machines don't work."

"Probably a good thing because they only supply healthy food."

Allison laughed. "Salads and water."

"Yep." And, and, and... Sam had no idea what to say. "Hey, what will you miss about me?" Um. Probably not the best comment.

Allison stilled. "Everything," she replied.

Sam found courage in the fact Allison was not recoiling. She was actually leaning slightly into Sam. Allison's gaze traveled over Sam's face and searched her eyes. You have permission, Allison's gaze was conveying. You have permission to kiss me. Do it, do it, please.

Dread clutched Sam. She had not thought this far ahead. Kiss Allison? She, Sam, who had only kissed a few guys and who was probably pretty damn awful at kissing? She, Sam, kiss Allison? Oh, shit. The room was suddenly crazy hot, and Sam got to her feet. "I forgot I have to do something. Good night."

*****

Allison tried to sleep, but she could not. She was crying. Her sobs were not loud or body-shattering, but she muffled them with a pillow. She did not want to wake Allen in the next room.

She did not know why she was crying.

Maybe it was because she wanted to be with Sam, but she could not. Maybe it was because she had wanted so badly for Sam to take her in her arms and kiss her, but Sam had not. Maybe Allison was crying because she was mad at herself, because she had not made a move either. She could have kissed Sam. Could have stopped Sam from escaping upstairs. Could have, should have, did not.

But it was just as well she didn't. An entanglement with her stepsister…Allison stared at the ceiling. Susan, her gray eyes hard, flashed into Allison’s mind. Allison had the feeling her having a romantic relationship with Sam would be what sent her mother over the edge. No, Allison could not get involved with Sam, no matter how much she wanted to. There would be hell to pay. Bob, Bob, Bob. Momma will kill you.

Allison glanced at the clock. Almost two a.m., and she had to be up early again for work. Ugh. A thought occurred to her. Write a note. Explain to Sam why you can't be together.

Allison turned the lights on, sat at her desk and got a sheet of paper. She surveyed her pens and chose a black one. She pondered her words, but clarity was not forthcoming. Fine. Get an envelope and address it. Allison fished for a blue envelope, and in her best handwriting, she penned the name SAM. That took a second, and Allison was back to staring at paper.

After a minute, she wrote.

Dear Sam, I think you like me romantically. But, see, I don't go that way. We can't be together. Sorry.

Allison grimaced and balled up the paper. She reached for another piece. Dear Sam, I'm so sorry. You're very nice, very sweet and all, but I can't be with you. I do like you. I like you a lot. I’ve liked you since the minute we met. Before that, actually, when I saw your picture on top of the fireplace. I’m not sure why, but I was a goner for you from that moment. I knew nothing could happen, though. I never imagined you’d like me back, but you did. I’m trying to be strong. And the way you are with Allen…Things are complicated, Sam.

Allison chewed her lip and continued. You’re my stepsister, and we’re better off as friends. I’ve never liked guys. I’ve tried to like guys, believe me. I’ll probably end up marrying a guy and having 2.3 kids and a dog and a cat. You probably think I’m a mama’s girl. I act like it enough. But you don’t understand. My mother and I have been through a lot, and we’ve both done things we’re not proud of. We’ve also had bad things done to us.

"Ugh." Allison tore up the paper and dropped the pieces into the wastebasket. "What am I doing?"

She got a fresh sheet and tried again. Dear Sam, I will miss you. Definitely. A whole lot. But…

"Geez." Allison rolled her eyes. "I suck." She tried again with another paper. But everything she wrote sounded fake and insincere. Sam deserved better.

Allison decided to write the truth, but for the hell of it. Maybe getting it onto paper would be therapeutic. There was no way Sam, or anyone else, would see it.

Dear Sam, Allison began. I know we rarely talk about this, but I am proud Allen is my son. He’s my baby, and I love him. It kills me every time he calls Susan "Momma."

Allison exhaled a heavy breath and reread her words. She did feel better. Liberated.

Mom had a boyfriend named Bob, and one day when I was twelve, he caught me reading a lesbian magazine. Sam, I know you don't like my mother, but she's been good to me. Really, even if you don’t think so. Even if I don’t think so sometimes. She saved Allen's life. I was so confused, so messed up when I found out I was pregnant. I was in no shape to take care of a child. I remember that first night after Bob packed up and left, denying he was the father. I curled in bed, couldn't even cry. I'd broken my mother's heart.

Stupid baby. Stupid Allison. If only there wouldn't be a baby anymore.

I went to Mom and told her not to worry, that I would get an abortion and that things would be okay again. I thought that'd make her happy. She said no. Just like that. She didn't even think about it. She simply said, "You're going to have this baby. We’re good Christians. The Bible says murder is wrong."

I broke down into tears, pleaded with her to let me have an abortion because God, Sam! I didn't want a baby. I absolutely did not want to be thirteen years old and a mother.

A funny thing happened though. As I became more and more pregnant, I fell in love with my baby. Having him inside me, with me, helped me feel less lonely. I loved feeling him kick and punch. My shame also grew. I wallowed in it sometimes. My baby deserved better than some thirteen-year-old girl as his mother. I'm still ashamed.

I love Allen, but God, Sam, I am GLAD he's not my son. I’m glad he calls Susan "Mom" even though, yes, I do die a little inside when he does it. That sounds horrible and confusing, doesn't it? It's hard to explain. Sometimes I do wish that…I just know I couldn't be a mother at thirteen, and I can't now, either, at sixteen.

By the time Allen was born, I was grateful, so grateful to Mom for saving his life.

Allison sighed and rubbed her eyes. She reread what she had written, and it was rambling, incoherent. Made no sense. Allison picked up her pen again, determined to get to the point. The thing is, Mom would kill me if you and I got together. She's done so much for me, saving Allen's life, taking him in and stuff. I owe her this much. God, Sam. You have no idea. No idea how guilty I feel that I didn’t want Allen at one point and how happy I am that Momma made me keep him. It's a burning, painful guilt. When I watch Allen sleep, or see/hear him laugh, I fall in love with him all over again. I love Mom more than ever at those times. Mom wouldn't be happy about us. She doesn't deserve more grief. She's a good woman, and I love her. I love my mother, Sam. She doesn't deserve this. I can't hurt her any more.

And so we can't be together.

But, God, Sam.

God, Sam. I do like you so much. I’m in love with you.

Allison's eyes flew wide open, and she interrupted her pen in midair. She stared at her words.

I’m in love with you.

"I didn't write that," Allison whispered. She tore the paper into tiny, miniscule bits. She needed to stop this foolishness, this childish schoolgirl daydreaming, before someone got hurt.

Chapter Nine

Susan hated physical exercise, absolutely hated it, unless it involved a romp between the sheets with her husband. Sometimes, though, exercise was necessary. This was one of those unfortunate moments. Only a month was left until Sam returned for the summer, so Susan had to get busting.

She started by collecting empty cardboard boxes from the basement and hauling them up to her stepdaughter's bedroom. That sapped Susan of some breath, but now the real exercise and lifting would start.

She had almost finished redoing the house. It had been too heavy in its masculine tones. Dark, ponderous wood furniture everywhere. No artistic pictures, no paintings. Susan had introduced light and airiness to the house. Photos of flowers—roses, lilies, tulips, sunflowers—adorned many rooms, as did panoramic views of cities such as Paris, Munich, London and Rome. Hint, Beauregard. Your wife wants to see the world. She wants the world. The deer head with its dead, glassy stare in the living room was long gone. Susan had sweet-talked Barry in having the nasty thing moved into storage. It had taken even more cajoling to make him understand that Sam's room needed a makeover.

Everything in Sam's room was going. Period. The scratched furniture, the TV, the game system, the men's clothes that hung in the closet and especially, most especially, the letters from Sam's mother, the diary and the pictures. They would be banished into storage, forever. Susan had half a mind to "accidentally" toss some into a dumpster.

Okay, so no, they would not be banished. Susan would leave them, but she could dream, right?

Damn that Norene. Susan had spent the months since the engagement and the wedding getting rid of reminders of Norene and Lucas. Susan was Barry's wife. She was his future, not Norene and that dead boy! She was Sam’s mother now, for all practical purposes.

Susan reached for the diary in the back of Sam’s desk drawer. Her resentment had skyrocketed after reading the sickening things a week ago. Barry and Norene had handpicked the dog on a family trip to the SPCA. Lucas and Sam had named him Cornbread, Corny for short, because the canine's yellow color fit, and because he was cute enough to eat.

If that wasn't enough, honestly! Susan had always admired the two oak trees in the back yard, near the pool fence. No more. She had wanted to shred Norene's nauseating handwriting after learning that Norene and Barry had planted one tree after the birth of their daughter and the second tree after the birth of their son.

"No more," Susan whispered to herself as she surveyed Sam's room again. "Beauregard and Samantha are going to forget you existed."

Susan tossed the diary, letters and photos into the smallest cardboard box and got to work on the rest of Sam's room. An hour later, she had cleaned up nicely. All that remained to be done was call her husband. Susan trotted downstairs to the kitchen phone. She kicked her leg behind her and dialed Barry’s office. She had started working for him as a secretary three weeks ago. She could not bear the work: dull, monotonous, dreadful. She’d asked for, and had easily received, a few days off to redo the house.

Barry answered with a brisk hello.

"Oh, Beauregard! I'm about finished with Samantha's room. It'll bring me and her closer, you'll see. I was thinking about Queen Anne, maybe a touch of Chippendale accent. All set in light tones, with new curtains and—"

Barry cleared his throat. "Can we talk about this later? I know you mean well, but I’m still not sure it’s the best idea to redo Sam’s room."

"I have bad news. The gardener stopped by and did a fabulous job, but…oh dewie! The oak trees out back have to go. They're diseased."

Barry sighed. "Great. Well, have Mark take care of them. I got to get back to work, keep those dollars rolling in. Love you, my little pumpkin ball."

"One more thing about Samantha’s room. I hope you don't mind, but I removed the TV and the video games. We want her to socialize with us more. We need to be a real family."

"Wonderful idea! Donate the TV to charity, but hold off on the furniture until we can discuss it more."

"Bye, darling. See you tonight!" Susan hung up.

The phone rang, and Susan frowned. "Hello?"

"Susan, I mean it," Barry said. "You should wait until Sam's home and go furniture shopping with her. Pick out her new things together."

No, Beauregard. She'll pick out men's furniture!

"Susan," he repeated for emphasis.

"Yes, Beauregard," she said cheerfully, masking her scowl. "Of course." I'll figure a way to make Samantha see the light.

Susan hung up and wandered into the living room. From there, she could see the front door. The windows on both sides of the door were grimy, because of that damn dog. Corny slobbered on them every day, pressing his nose to the windows, whining and wanting to come inside.

"It was love at first sight," Norene had written in her journal. "He was a fat puppy with big brown eyes, and he fit right in with our family."

Susan wanted to take care of Corny, but she would not. She had a heart! But in a few days, a couple of weeks, whatever, she imagined taking Corny for a ride a few towns over, slipping his collar off and leaving him. Nature would take care of the rest. Maybe a good family would find him. Just as long as it was not the Cannizarro family.

Guilt compelled Susan to go outside and get Corny a biscuit. She kissed him on the top of his head. One thing she was not was an animal killer, and she hated how Norene made her feel. The dog was old. He would be gone soon, of natural causes. Barry was right. Susan needed to wait until Sam was home to go furniture shopping. And so what if Sam picked out men’s furniture? Susan was happy. She had her husband and her children. She was in love. Life was good.

Susan went upstairs to put Norene’s diary and other items back where she had found them. She spent the next hour restoring Sam’s room to how it had been.

*****

Allison bade goodbye to Mr. Dierksen. She stepped outside The Addict, and a smothering wave of heat clobbered her. June had definitely arrived, and in a few days, so would Sam. Allison had been going through the motions: school, work, kissing Joey, her new boyfriend, pretending she liked him.

Blah, blah, blah.

Her friends held a surprise birthday party for her in May, but she did not have fun. All she thought about was Sam, how she missed Sam, how the party would be perfect with Sam there. The nearly two months since spring break had slowly, painfully, caterpillared into a week. Yes, in a week, Sam would be home for the summer. Allison was not sure how strong she could be. Could she resist her alluring stepsister? Allison and Sam had not e-mailed since spring break. Too nervous, too tense, probably.

Allison reached into her purse for her car keys. She got into the Lumina and sparked the engine to life. Sam would be returning to a different house, practically. The whole place, except Sam's room, had been redone.

Another thing worried Allison. Corny had died last week. Allen had taken to sneaking Corny into bed with him, and one morning Corny simply had not woken up.

Sam would be devastated. Barry had not told her. He preferred to wait to do it in person. Allison hoped Sam would at least find solace in the fact that Corny had died in a warm bed, with a boy who loved him.

*****

For Sam, the day she came home for the summer began decently. She found out she got three A’s and two B’s for the semester. Not bad, especially for someone who treated homework like the plague. She made good time on the drive home. No little old ladies slowed her way, and the screeching tractor-trailers cooperated. The sun shone benevolently, creating a nice day in the mid-80s.

Sam got home in a record three hours. She waited for Corny to bounce up, but no yellow dog was forthcoming. Sam headed into the house and did a double take. What the hell? It looked like a girly home decorating catalogue threw up all over. Susan's touch. Whatever. I'm usually in my room anyway. Sam found no one and went into the dining room, which had several large windows overlooking the back yard. She peered out, and Sam became keenly, acutely aware that she did not belong. Susan lay on her back, sunning in an orange bikini. I hope she gets skin cancer. Barry, with Allen on his shoulders, jumped into the pool. Again. And again. They were having the time of their lives; they could not stop laughing.

At long last, Sam forced her gaze back toward the shallow end of the pool, where Allison was with a new guy. Not Hank. The guy had been giving Allison a little kiss on the lips before. Now she was sitting on his shoulders. Guess Allison found a boyfriend she wants. Allison wore a lime-green bikini, and it accentuated her hard, firm body without overexposing anything, especially her breasts. Allison looked happy with that grinning, cocky idiot. She really did. Sam stepped back from the window. So she and Allison were doomed to friendship. Nothing more. She would find a way to handle it and be happy for Allison. First, she would go to her room and hole up, lick her wounds.

Sam clambered up the stairs and flung her bedroom door open. No TV. No games, no game system.

Sam blinked.

She blinked some more. Fuck you, Susan.

Sam clambered back downstairs. She found her video game system under the TV. No games, but something on the mantel caught her eye. A small, silver dog figurine was next to her picture.

Sam picked up the figurine. It had a base that read: CORNY.

Um. Um. Sam pretended she was not seeing what she was seeing. There was an explanation for this. Her father was planning ahead. Yes, that was it. Corny had a few months to live, Sam would admit that much, but for the past couple of years, he'd always had a few more months. Sam headed to the pool, right to her father. "Where's Corny?"

"Samantha."

Sam surveyed the area for her dog. "Where’s Corny?"

Barry glanced toward the combination clock-thermometer perched on the pool fence. "You’re home an hour early."

"So?"

"I was hoping to be inside when you got home."

"So?"

"Sam, let’s go in the house." Barry moved to take Sam’s arm, but she stepped out of his reach.

"I want to know where Corny is."

"Sit down."

Sam peeked at her stepsister; Allison's face was contorted, miserable.

Tears sprang to Barry’s eyes. "Corny died two weeks ago."

The fact that Sam was seeing her father cry for only the second time in her life did not register. All she knew was that her father had said her dog was dead. The dog she had fallen in love with at first sight at the shelter, the dog who had been her faithful companion for as long as she could remember, the dog who never complained to her, the dog who had always been there for her. Her best friend, with his trusting brown eyes, eager gait and funky breath.

"How?"

"He died in bed with Allen. He died happy, Sam."

Susan. It's her fault. Sam twisted to her stepmother. "You hated him. You wouldn’t let him in the house. He died because of you!"

Susan fidgeted. "What is she saying?"

"You hated him," Sam screeched. "You did it!"

Barry grabbed Sam’s arm. "Samantha! Calm down. Susan’s as upset as we are."

Sam flung her father’s arm away. "Fuck you!"

*****

Allison sat at the kitchenette table. Her cuticles were bleeding from incessant picking. Sam had been gone three hours. When she had come storming down the back steps, all passion and fury, her eyes ablaze, Allison’s heart had clenched. Now, this was the person she wanted. Not Joey. Sam. She wanted Sam. And she hated seeing Sam upset and angry.

"Allison?" came Julia’s voice.

Allison jerked her head up. "Yeah?"

Julia slid into the chair closest to Allison. "You’re bleeding."

"Guess so." Allison reached for a napkin and blotted her wounds.

"Allison." Julia’s voice was soft and gentle. "I had a thought. I might know where Sam is."

Allison became instantly wide awake. "Where?"

"I could be wrong. But the more I think about it…"

"Where?"

Julia glanced at Barry, who was in deep discussion with Gerald. Gerald was about to return to his house in case Sam stopped by. "She might be with her mother and brother. At the cemetery."

Allison mulled it over. Makes sense. "Are you going to see if she is?"

"You go."

"Me?"

Julia clasped a hand over Allison’s. "You care about my niece."

"So do you."

"You go. Do you know where the cemetery is?"

*****

Allison coaxed the ailing Lumina into a parking space. There were only a few vehicles around, and sure enough, one of them was Dino. The cemetery spread out as far as Allison could see. She had entered another world, one dominated by marble angels and tombstones. She had never stepped foot inside a cemetery; her father was cremated. Allison ignored the shiver running through her and went to find Sam.

Her stepsister was beyond a copse of pine trees, sitting against a double marker that doubtless bore the Cannizarro name. Her back was hunched, and drawn-up legs and knees covered her face. She probably had no idea Allison was around.

Allison’s heart pulled in a thousand directions as she studied Sam. At last, Allison approached Sam and stood over her, hoping Sam would notice the protracted shadow. But Sam kept her face covered, and nary a sound emanated from her.

Allison got to her knees and rubbed Sam’s shoulder. Sam did not budge. She did not jerk back in surprise. Nothing. She must have seen Allison arriving.

Allison wondered if she ought to return to the Lumina and leave Sam alone. Maybe write a note and put it under Dino’s wiper blades.

Sam looked up, right at Allison. Sam’s eyes were red and puffy, which was not a surprise, considering, but her appearance nevertheless startled Allison.

Sam was stiff, her expression hard. "How did you know I was here?"

"Your aunt sent me."

"Why?"

Allison shrugged. "I guess she figured...I don’t know."

"I don’t really remember my mother. Or my brother. Or my grandparents."

"You were young."

Sam made a pained sound. "Still. She was my mother. I can't visualize her anymore. I don't remember what her touch was like, or her smell. Nothing. I do remember her reading to me, playing with me. But it's all so vague."

"I’m sorry."

"Whatever."

Sam and Allison sat for a few minutes, and a couple of butterflies meandered by. After the second one, Sam waved for Allison’s attention. "Do you miss your father?"

Allison’s breath caught in her throat. She could not reply right away.

"Do you miss him?" Sam persisted.

"No."

Sam’s expression was curious. "Why?"

"I can't miss someone I never had. He wasn't a father; he was a sperm donor. A piece of garbage."

Sam recoiled at the bitter words.

"He loafed around all day, his beer gut growing, while Momma worked three jobs to support his alcoholism. By the time he died, he was sleeping on the couch and never got up. Sometimes not even to use the bathroom. I remember one time when I was five years old. I had spent hours in kindergarten drawing a picture for him. At that time, he was still my hero. I got home all excited. I thought the picture would make him love me. Guess what he did."

Sam shook her head.

"I sat on his lap and showed him my drawing. He crumpled it up, shot it in the wastebasket, and ordered me to get him another twelve-pack. He said the picture sucked and that I couldn't possibly be his kid."

"Why did your mother stay with your father?"

"No idea. Not sure I want to know."

"Dad was supposed to be buried there." Sam pointed to the plot marked with Lucas's name. "With my mother."

"What were your grandparents like? Your brother?"

Sam sighed. "From what Julia told me, Lucas and I got along well. We loved to hide from Mom and Dad. They even called the police once. My grandparents were cool, better than Mr. and Mrs. Senator. They learned sign pretty well, especially Grandma. My granddad was always sneaking me candy or money."

"They sound wonderful."

"Is Corny really dead?"

"Yes. I’m sorry."

"I saw the urn in the living room. Cremated? Fuck that. I can’t even say goodbye."

Allison hastened to explain. "Your dad couldn’t leave a body around. And he didn’t want to bury Corny without you. He thought maybe you two could sprinkle the ashes together."

"Whatever."

"Where do you think you want to spread the ashes?"

Sam shook her head slowly. "I don’t know. One memory I do have of my mom and brother is when we went to get Corny. With Dad. I mostly just remember Corny, not Mom or Lucas. Corny was the only one of his brothers and sisters left. He was so happy to see us. He was a great dog, he really was. I hope he didn’t suffer."

"I’m sure he didn’t suffer."

Sam's eyes glazed over. "Corny's dead."

Allison studied a group of newcomers about halfway across the cemetery. "Do you come here a lot?" she asked.

"Sometimes."

"Do you feel closer to your mother here?"

Sam gave Allison a helpless look that broke her heart. "No. But where else can I go?"

*****

Sam gave up on her hamburger. Impossible to taste and enjoy it. Across from her at the McDonald's was Allison, and she was staring at her chicken sandwich. Sam sighed. She had put off going home as long as possible. She ought to go, get it over with, and…and what? Sprinkle Corny's ashes? Where? Maybe in his favorite napping spot under the two oak trees in the back yard. She mentioned this possibility to Allison.

"The trees were diseased. The gardener had to tear them down. But that's a great idea. It doesn't matter if the trees aren't there, right?"

Great. Just great. "Corny liked swimming in the pond. Maybe there."

Allison nodded encouragingly. "Your dad mentioned that."

"Are you humoring me?"

"What?"

"Coming to the cemetery. Agreeing with everything I say. Do you actually give a crap?"

"I care."

"Who's the new boy?"

"Joey."

"Is this one for real?"

Allison lowered her gaze. "No."

"Is his father a bank president and his mother a bank president's wife? Prime Susan material."

"Whatever."

Sam flexed her fists. "I'm sorry."

"Joey's going to juggle tennis balls at Allen's birthday party."

Sam snorted. "Great. When is it?"

"Friday. Day before we go to the beach. I can't believe Allen's going to be four."

"He can't be a kid forever."

Allison managed a little smile. "Guess not."

"I keep thinking about Corny. He loved to sleep with me. Right here, on my chest. I missed him every night at military school. If I hadn't gotten expelled, none of this would have happened. Did anyone pay attention to Corny while I was gone?"

"Yes. Allen and I played with him. Allen loved him."

"Dad didn't play with Corny."

"No, not really."

Sam's gaze was vacant and haunted. Allison got up and sat with Sam. She knew she ought not to do what she was about to do. She was crossing a line and could never go back. But right now, she did not care. She reached for her stepsister and held her. Sam was tense at first but thawed. Allison rubbed Sam's back, gave Sam a quick kiss on her cheek.

Sam's skin was smooth, and she smelled like grass, like perfume, like tears, like Sam. The feel of her was nothing like Allison's boyfriends. Nothing like Bob.

This is right, Allison thought.

*****

Sam woke about three a.m., and the pain slammed into her again: Corny's dead. She reached over and pretended her second pillow was Corny. If not for Susan insisting that Corny be kept outside, the dog would be right there in bed with Sam. That was what she told herself, but a more logical part of her lectured that Corny would have died no matter what. His time had come. Sam petted the pillow and held it to her. No crying. She had cried enough in the past twelve hours.

Allison. Allison.

She was a bit better to think about. Also not better, because the way she touched Sam at McDonald's had been so familiar, intimate. And confusing. Sam's skin continued to burn from Allison's touch.

What the hell was going on with Allison and her?

Sam knew one thing: Allison would fill the empty spot in her bed, Corny's spot, quite nicely. Sam yearned to go to her, slide into bed with Allison and...

Joey. Grinning, cocky idiot.

Sam groaned and got up. Allison's bedroom door was closed; Allen's was open. Sam hazarded a couple of tentative steps into Allen's room. This was where Corny died. This room. In bed with Allen. She could not bear the thought of returning to her empty bed, and she was nowhere near brave enough to get into bed with Allison.

So, Allen. He was a cool kid. He would not mind. Hell, he probably missed sleeping with Corny, too. Sam took a few more steps. What are you doing? Don't be pathetic. Sam was seventeen. She did not need to be sleeping with a kid. She needed to suck it up and mourn Corny herself.

Sam padded downstairs. She would sleep on the couch.

*****

Soft rays of sun shone upon lush grass. A gentle breeze wafted through the Cannizarro back yard, but the unrestrained laughter of children shattered the breeze. A bunch of rowdy preschoolers were scrambling at a variety of activities such as arts and crafts, picking on one another, and watching a magic show.

"I need a volunteer!" cried the magician.

"Me!" called the same chubby girl who volunteered her services the past five times. "Me! Me! Me!" Without waiting for an answer, the girl took her accustomed place next to the magician.

The magician winked. "Let's have the birthday boy do this last one. Allen, come up here!"

Allen's face lit up. He grabbed Sam and headed for the makeshift stage. Allison frowned from the back of the audience, and jealousy stirred within her. Allen had monopolized Sam all day. He had not paid one iota of attention to Allison, the girl who organized the party.

Allen had proudly shown Sam off to all his friends one by one or in small groups, saying: "This is Sammy, my new sister. She plays basketball. She and my daddy teaching me football! And she gives the best copter rides! Better than Daddy!"

"Hey, the kid really likes Sam, huh?" Joey observed as the magician began his trick.

"She's a good sister."

Joey roped an arm around Allison's waist, and she squirmed. I have to break up with him. Today. After the party.

She could not stop thinking about Sam. She kept replaying the moment at McDonald’s, the rightness of it, and her heart ached. She wanted to be with Sam. Sam wanted to be with her. And there was this beach trip starting tomorrow. They would be sharing a room with Allen for one week. What would it be like occupying such a small space? Will I see Sam undress? The tingles between Allison’s legs intensified.

Sam had not slept in her own bed all week. She'd taken to the couch, maybe because sleeping in her bed reminded her of Corny. Allison was not sure anyone else knew, but she did because Saturday, she worked the six a.m. shift. She'd come downstairs to see Sam asleep on the couch. The next day, about two a.m., Allison heard Sam head downstairs. Same thing in the wee hours of the morning every day.

Allison wished she could do something. And she could. I can, I can. I can do it.

The magician put on a rather bland finale, and Allison clapped politely.

"Here comes the cake!" Barry yelled. He wheeled out a three-layer-high birthday cake and parked it next to Allison. The cake was covered with white frosting and featured a football and the number four.

Allison slipped out of Joey's embrace. "Who wants cake?" she called.

A queue of excited youngsters formed, and Allison waited for the birthday boy to appear and blow out the candles.

Joey entrenched Allison's hand in his. "Hey. Let me help you cut the cake."

"Thanks." Allison grinned weakly, and her mother snapped picture after picture of them.

Allen bounced up, Sam in tow. "Big cake!" he complimented, his eyes widening. He turned to Sam. "Hold me up!"

Sam scowled at Joey, and then at Allison. That did it. Allison made her decision right then and there. She was going to break up with Joey today. After the party. Period. She wanted to be with Sam. Sam wanted to be with her. That was all there was to it. They would figure out a way to make it work, to hide it from her mother. Susan was mellowing anyway; Barry was good for her. Maybe Susan would be happy if Allison was with a woman because that meant Allison was not after Barry. Right?

Oh my God. I cannot believe I just thought that. Susan had never accused Allison of doing anything wrong in the Bob situation.

*****

"Oh," Joey said, dejected. He and Allison were in her bedroom. "Okay. Well, I guess—okay. You're sure?"

"I'm sorry. You're great. We're better off as friends, though."

"Yeah, all right," he mumbled.

There was not much to say after that, and Joey left. Allison sat at her desk for a while, her throat dry, her heart hammering. She slid the purple ring off and studied it. Brought her lips to it and kissed it. Maybe by the time she and Sam got back from vacation, they would be together.

Chapter Ten

Allison basked under the warm afternoon sun in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. She inhaled the salty air and smiled at the blue expanse of ocean below her. This was her first time seeing an ocean, and she could gaze at it forever. The shimmering, sparkling water brought her a sort of peacefulness despite her turbulent thoughts.

She and Sam were seventeen years old. Sam lived most of the time at military school. In a year, they'd be going to college. So what was the point in starting something with Sam? Allison hated how she was overthinking things. She should be enjoying her teenage years. But this was what her life had been like since Bob. Before then, actually. Allison had never been a child. She was worrying about her father, and then after he died, she worried about her mother. And then after Bob…

Allison felt natural with Sam. Maybe because Sam did not care what other people thought. Sam knew how to be a kid. She knew how to have fun.

Barry and Susan joined Allison on the deck. "I'm so glad you like it, Susie bug. So beautiful. But nowhere near your beauty."

Susan blushed. "You flatter me too much."

"Momma!" Allen skidded to a halt on the deck. "Wanna swim now! Please?"

"Of course, darling. See if your sisters will take you after you put your things up."

"Yay!" Allen grabbed Allison and dragged her into the bedroom he was sharing with her and Sam. Two twin-sized beds and two drawers adorned the room. A kiddie cot had been reserved for Allen.

"Done." Sam shut a dresser drawer.

"Done? No way."

Sam grinned. "I need one drawer for my clothes. I don't need a whole suitcase for my shoes like someone I know."

Embarrassed, Allison glanced over the suitcases, duffel bag, makeup bag and wardrobe bag her mother insisted she bring.

Allen tugged on Allison’s sleeve. "Hurry! Momma said Sammy and you're taking me swimming. Hurry!"

Allison began to unpack, but a minute later, Sam grinned. "Interesting. Very, very interesting. Any skid marks? Stains? Let's have a look." Sam held flowered panties at arm's length and narrowed her eyes.

Allison's heart stopped. Sam had stolen a pair of her undies. "No!" Allison dashed to her stepsister, but Sam dangled the offending undergarment out of reach.

"Give it back!"

Sam ran out of the bedroom and turned left out of the condo. Allison and Allen give frantic chase. "Get her, Al! Get her!" Allen cried.

*****

Sam liked her hiding spot, a secure staircase nook. Allison was due to race by anytime now. She would get a scare when Sam leaped out. Sam waited, trying to stay as quiet as possible. The task was not easy, as she had to control her breathing. Allison was in good shape and had nearly tackled her twice. Sam waited a few minutes more, but Allison did not appear. What would I do if I were her? Sam pondered a moment. Hell! She better not have!

Allison most certainly had.

When Sam appeared in the doorway of their room, Allison was canvassing a pair of Sam's own unmentionables. She chortled and met Sam's eyes. "Is this a fudge stain?"

"Nothing to see."

Allison winked. "I learn more about you every day."

"Give me that!" Sam grabbed her boxers. "You are a bitch, you know that?"

"You’re a bitch too."

They laughed.

"What’s that?" Allen repeated the sign for ‘bitch.’

Oops. Sam met Allison’s gaze, which basically said: Oh, shit.

"Don't sign that in front of Barry, okay? It’s a bad word."

Allen’s eyes lit up. "Cool!" He ran off, no doubt to find Barry.

*****

Sam's throat was parched, and she swallowed several times to moisten her mouth. She was not going to try to tan again. No. These past three hours in the sun had been more than enough. She hurt from the slightest movement; her skin was sandpaper on fire. She held up a finger, contemplated the digit for several seconds and then shrugged. She pressed the finger into her arm, and the skin turned an angry white before returning to a fierce red glow.

Never mind the cancer risks and the various associated health risks. Beauty came first, according to Her Evil Highness's Law. As Susan had explained for the hundredth time a moment ago, "Having a tan will improve your chances for dates tenfold!" Then she added: "Honestly, Allison! Now, I understand you and Joey separated, but get busting and find someone new! And Samantha..." Susan just shrugged her shoulders sadly.

Susan had waddled back to her blue lounge chair, and Sam stared after her stepmother. Had she read Susan's lips correctly? Allison and Joey were separated? As in, they'd broken up?

Now, Sam licked her lips. She took a deep breath and waved for her stepsister. Allison was red too and looking miserable. "You and Joey broke up?"

Allison's eyes darted away guiltily. "Yes."

"When?"

"Friday. Right after Allen's party."

Huh. "I'm sorry," Sam signed. But she was not. Hell, no. "What happened?"

"It wasn't working out."

"Why?"

Allison shrugged. "He…he…"

"What?"

"I kind of like someone else."

Sam's pulse swung into overdrive; there was no mistaking the intensity on Allison's face, the way Allison was looking at her. Pleading with her to read between the lines? "You like someone else?"

"Yes."

"Who? Someone I know?"

"I guess."

"You like this person a lot?"

"Yes."

Sam tried to keep her expression neutral: no jumping to conclusions and getting her hopes dashed. "Does this person like you back?"

"I think so."

"But you’re not sure?"

"Not a hundred percent sure," Allison said.

"Anyone would be crazy not to like you."

"Same goes for you." Allison lowered her gaze to Sam's breasts. Just long enough. Just exactly long enough to make her point. Allison repositioned herself for tanning, and Sam squeezed her eyes shut. It was like her father told her.

When I laid eyes on your mother for the first time, I knew she was the one for me. It was the same with Susan. I walked into that cafe three months ago, and I saw her, and I knew she would be my wife one day. It scared me. That’s why it took me so long to ask her out.

That's exactly how it was with Sam and Allison. Like father, like daughter.

*****

"Allison, I like you. A lot." Sam shook her head at the reflection in the mirror. Too straightforward. She did not want to scare Allison off. She was even scaring herself. But she was going to talk to Allison, for once and for all. Tonight.

Sam looked herself squarely in the mirror. "You're beautiful. I want to hold you, to kiss you and...oh!" Sam groaned and made a face. It sounded like all she was after was sex and physical intimacy. Allison was more than that. Maybe Sam should just kiss her. Actions spoke louder than words. But what if Allison was not ready for that? Plus there was the significant fact Sam had little kissing experience.

Sam blew out hot air. Try again.

"Allison, what I'm going to say may come as a shock to you, and I hope you don't freak out. I understand if you do, but I want to at least still be friends because I've really enjoyed being friends, and I can handle that just fine." Sam hit herself on the forehead and rested her head against the door. Could she sound any lamer?

"Allison." Hold hand. "Over the short time that we've known each other, I…" Good start. Good start. "… have fallen for you. Your beautiful smile, your kind, sweet heart, your willingness to help others, your sense of humor. I'm at your mercy. If you want to be friends and nothing more, I can handle that." Too strong. Come on!

Sam clenched her teeth and went for another try. "Allison, over the short time that we've known each other, I've grown to care for you." No. Too neutral. Well, maybe not.

"Over the short time that we've known each other, I have grown to care for you, to enjoy your company, your beautiful smile, your sweetness, your sense of humor. If you want to be friends, I can handle that. But I had to tell you how I felt." Eh. You can do better.

"Allison, since we've met, I've grown to care for you. As more than a friend. More than a stepsister. Or a sister. I love your company and your sense of humor. You're sweet, and..." Pause. "If you don't return those feelings, that's all right. I hope we can still be friends." Kiss her?

Sam moaned. She could not string together a decent couple of sentences to save her life. What if she was off point, and Allison did not like her at all? They had plenty of time left on vacation. The tension, the sting of rejection, the shame for five whole days would be horrible. Sharing the same bedroom, going to dinner together, having to stare at the girl who didn’t like her back FOR FIVE WHOLE DAYS.

Sam reached another decision. She would tell Allison on the last night of vacation. That would give her time to think of the perfect way to do it and allow her sunburn to morph into an attractive tan.

*****

The next few days lurched along. Sam lucked out beach-wise with a couple of days of rainy weather. To Susan, rainy days meant shopping. Sam panicked at first; getting broiled appealed to her more than shopping. She told her father she did not want to shop, and much to her surprise, Barry was okay with it. Susan and Allison went to the outlet malls, and Barry, Sam and Allen bowled, got ice cream and hung out in a bookstore. Maybe Barry was returning to his senses at long last.

When sunny weather returned, Sam spent her days properly lotioned with sunblock and sheltered under an umbrella. She read a book, or tried to read, anyway. She was a bundle of nervous energy; the last day of vacation could not arrive fast enough.

But then it did.

The sun set, and Sam found herself packing in her room and wondering where the time had gone. There would be no backing down. She was going to find out, for once and for all, if Allison liked her back. And she still did not know what to say. She had reviewed countless scenarios and countless lines, but nothing felt quite right. She would play it by ear. Just in case, she had written a note. If words failed her, she would hand the note to Allison.

Sam glanced at the clock; the makeover show on TV would be over in a few minutes. Susan had insisted that Sam watch with her and Allison, but she'd gotten out of it by complaining of a headache. Sam did have a headache, and its name was Susan.

Sam zipped her duffel bag shut and slipped into her flip-flops. She padded into the living room. Susan was nudging Allison and demanding she write various things down. "See that woman with the same complexion as yours? What a wonderful smile! Find out what shade lipstick she wears. Oh, to be young again!"

Barry looked up from the Uno game he was playing with Allen and gave Sam a pained smile. Yes, her father was finally coming to his senses and seeing the real Susan.

The show's credits rolled. Here we go. Projecting a confidence she did not feel, Sam waved for Allison's attention. "I'm going for a walk. Come with me?"

*****

Once Sam and Allison were outside, Sam indicated a nearly deserted strip of beach. "That way?"

"Sure."

They walked and did not chat. Light was not an issue. The sky was devoid of stars, but the glow from the hotels lining the shore provided more than enough visibility for a conversation.

Sam fingered the note in her pocket. "Did you have fun this week?"

"Lots of fun," Allison replied, but her uneasy smile told a different story.

"Was shopping with your mother fun?"

"Eh. It was fine."

Sam and Allison strolled for about two miles. Sam tried to enjoy the caress of the wet sand under her feet but gave up. There was no use; her thoughts were fixated on one person only, and her stomach clenched every time she sneaked a look at Allison. Sam had the overwhelming need to say something, anything. "Corny didn't like the beach. Dad and I took him one time."

Allison stopped in mid-stride. "Yeah?"

Sam smiled at the memory. "He hated it. He was thrilled to get home. I never liked the beach either, but Dad's crazy about it. Ick. Sunburn, overweight men in Speedos." What are you doing? Talking about her dead dog and the downsides to the beach was not the way to ease into the conversation she needed to have.

"I kind of like the beach," Allison countered. "Way too crowded at this time of year. It’d be perfect in the fall or winter."

Sam nodded her agreement.

Another mile passed. "We should turn back," Allison said.

Sam's heart sank. "Guess so." She and Allison reversed direction.

"I had a lot of fun with you this week. I always do. But you've been quiet. Distracted."

"Yep." Sam mentally kicked herself for being such a chicken. But she was not the only nervous one. Allison kept wiping the palms of her hands against her shorts. She's nervous too. Why am I rushing this? They needed more time. They had been on pinpricks around each other. Better to go back to the way it was. Right?

"Are you okay?" Allison asked.

Sam stopped. Allison was giving her the perfect opening. On purpose? "I'm fine," Sam began. "I just..." Do it, do it. She remembered one of her lines. But only the first line. The rest she forgot.

Sam tried to smile but could not.

"Hey," Allison said. "Why were you sleeping on the couch? Last week."

"I don't know."

"Because of Corny?"

"I guess. But I've slept okay this week." Because I was in a room with you and Allen. Sam had been far from alone.

"Are you going to sleep on the couch again when we get home?"

"I don't know. Probably. It's comfortable."

Allison chuckled. "Yes. That's true."

About half an hour later, the condo building came into view. They would be back in about five minutes. Great. Sam became angrier by the second. She had accomplished nothing. This dickering was going to stop. Right now. She was going to pull Allison to her and kiss her. She was too chicken with words, so a kiss would have to do.

Allison brushed her fingers against Sam’s, just a tiny bit, as if she was testing. When Sam did not resist, Allison entwined their hands.

Goosebumps invaded Sam's body. Oh, God, oh God. Allison had taken her hand. They were holding hands. It felt good, so good. Allison liked her. She did! She must. Because stepsisters did not do this. Friends did not do this.

Sam stared at a light in the distance, and Allison tightened her grasp and edged closer. The beach world disappeared. Sam forgot about the water lapping at her feet and about the few stars peeking out. She was lost in bliss. Everything was right in the universe.

A group of male revelers shook Sam out of her daze. The men were throwing wood into a bonfire in front of the condo building. Sam was pretty sure bonfires were illegal in Myrtle Beach, but whatever. She wondered if she should let go of Allison's hand. Or if Allison would do it. Neither broke the contact. Their touch gradually slipped away as if nothing had happened.

Note. Now.

"You could sleep with me," Allison signed hesitantly. "If you wanted. Instead of going to the couch."

Oh, God. "I could?"

Allison nodded, and the fringe of her lashes cast shadows on her cheeks. She was unbearably lovely. "My bed might not be as comfortable as the couch."

Shit. Allison's bed could be filled with nails and cornhusks, and Sam would not care. She curled her fingers around the note and pried it out of her pocket. No going back. This is it. Sam jammed the paper in Allison’s hand.

Allison jerked back as if she had been scorched by hot coals, and Sam retreated a few steps.

Allison unfolded the note with a painful slowness and read. She did not look at Sam, but Sam took in every detail of her stepsister's reaction: every twitch, every blink, every movement. As Sam went over the note in her mind, she cursed herself. What had she been thinking? It was cheesy. Nonchalant. Incoherent. Allison would burst out laughing.

Allison,

The past few months with you have been incredible. From the first moment I set eyes on you, I knew you were special. I think about you all the time: your smile, your hair, the way you look at me and interpret for me. I'm crazy about you. But if you just want to be friends, if you don't return my feelings, I hope I haven't screwed up too much. I'd love to be your friend.

Always, Sam

Sam willed herself not to cry. She had irreparably ruined her relationship with her stepsister, hadn't she? What had she been thinking? Allison did not like her back romantically. Why would she? Sam hoped Allison would be her friend. She would be okay with that, truly.

Allison looked up at Sam, and Sam saw everything in Allison's gaze. Tears. Love. Anxiety. The world. A future. "This is the sweetest thing anyone's done for me."

Sam swallowed. Wait for the "but."

She waited. And waited. Nothing.

"But what?" Sam prompted.

Allison blinked. "No but."

"No but?"

Allison ventured a little, half-scared, half-shy smile. "I fell for you the first time I met you. No, before that. When your dad showed me your picture. I think it was your smile. How mysterious it was, and your eyes."

"I’ve never kissed a girl," Sam said.

"Neither have I."

"Can I kiss you? Now?"

Allison nodded jerkily. "Now's good. And later. Both."

"Really?"

Allison took a tiny step forward. "Yes."

"We shouldn't tell my dad. Or your mom."

"I agree."

"I might not be good at kissing," Sam said.

A silly smile overtook Allison’s face. "You’re cute."

Sam did not absorb how it all happened, but the next thing she felt was Allison's mouth against her own. Their lips grazed, and without thinking, Sam slipped her hands under Allison's shirt. She found the hollow of Allison's back, and Allison’s tongue found hers. Sam concentrated on being slow and sensual, not eager and rushed.

It was perfect. Freaking perfect.

Chapter Eleven

Allison glanced at the clock for the umpteenth time in the past half-hour. Come on! She could not wait for her shift to end, but the blessed moment would not arrive for a few hours. They had been home from the beach only four days, but her mother and Barry had left earlier in the morning on a half-business, half-pleasure trip. They would not be back until Sunday. That meant one big house for her and Sam to frolic in for nearly three days.

Sam was so sweet. Sam did little things for her, candy under her pillow, a rose. They had a date tonight, their first official date. Allison, wanting to do her share of the wooing, had been the one to ask Sam out. They would probably just stay at home though, take advantage of the empty house.

Semi-empty house. Allison hoped Allen would stay asleep.

Mmmm. Wonder if Sam and I will sleep together…

She wanted to sleep with Sam, yes she did. She wanted sex with Sam. She had wanted to since she saw that picture of Sam and imagined that long black hair tickling her stomach, teasing her breasts. Sam would be nothing like Bob. Sam was tender, caring. She was the real thing.

Allison and Sam had fallen asleep together every night since returning from the beach. Allison had her alarm set for five-thirty, and when it went off, she woke Sam up. Sam kissed her goodbye and headed to her own bed. Allison loved it, sleeping and cuddling with Sam.

And kissing and necking…

Mmm. Sam was the best kisser. Ever. Hands down.

Allison turned on the water faucet and rinsed a bean grinder, but she was contemplating Sam's breasts between her legs.

*****

"These are the hybrids I planted while you were on vacation," Julia said.

Sam glanced over the roses. "Nice."

"I put the sunflowers over there." Julia indicated a square of land to her right.

"Cool. Where are the hybrids?"

"Samantha! You're really out of it today."

Sam became guarded. "Sorry. I think I'm getting sick."

"Who's the lucky one?"

"What?"

"You are not a sick girl. You are a girl in love."

Am I that transparent? "Don’t know what you mean."

Julia sighed. "Sweetie, you and Allison make a darling couple."

Sam drew her breath in sharply. Oh, fuck.

Julia wiped a handkerchief against her forehead. "I'm old, not blind."

"I don't know where you got that idea, but—"

"Oh, pshaw!" Julia waved her hand dismissively. "Tell me all about it. How long have you been together? I'm assuming not long. Because when we had dinner Thursday before you left for the beach, you were your usual Sam self."

Sam’s brain felt like scrambled eggs. "We’re not together."

"Sam, honey. I'm happy for you. You need to smile more. Please feel that you can tell me anything. That's why I'm here."

Sam grimaced. "I'm surprised."

"Why?"

"No offense but I thought you were, well…"

"Old-fashioned? Homophobic? An old hag?" Julia supplied helpfully. "Just because I'm Catholic doesn't mean I'm closed-minded. Come on! Is that what you think of me?"

"Maybe."

"I love you, Samantha. No matter what. I can imagine it's not easy being gay."

Sam felt a blush creep up her face. "You can talk to me anytime," Julia persisted. "I'm happy for you and Allison. You tell me however much you want to."

"Thank you. One favor, though. Please don't tell anyone. I promised Allison I would keep quiet about it. Her mother’s nuts, all right? She won’t understand. I think Allison’s scared of her. And Dad…" Sam sighed. "He would go ballistic. He wouldn’t let us eat at the same table, never mind be alone together."

"I won't tell anyone, scout's honor."

"I love her," Sam blurted out desperately. "I love her so much. I'll do anything for her. I want to give her the world. I want to make her happy. Her and Allen."

Julia crooked an arm around Sam's waist. "Allison’s a very lucky young woman. I’m glad you two found each other."

*****

When Allison got home, Sam covered her mouth hungrily. "I haven’t seen you for seven hours. Seven whole hours! And five minutes. Do you know how hard that was?"

"It goes both ways."

Sam held up an industrial-size bottle of super glue. "Now we’ll never be apart."

Allison giggled. "Be careful with that."

After they put Allen to bed, they went to the back yard to cuddle atop a blanket. Dusk had given way to full-fledged night. A full moon and starry sky completed the perfect scene. Allison and Sam were inside the fenced pool area, so no neighbors could see them.

"How did I get so lucky?" Allison asked.

Sam shrugged and brushed her lips against Allison’s. "I don’t know. I’m quite a catch."

"Definitely." Allison burrowed into Sam despite the warmth of the night. "It’s beautiful here. But all I want to do is look at you. And kiss you all over." I'm the one in control. Allison would have to guide whatever happened that night, at first anyway, because Sam was nervous, inexperienced, unsure. Allison tingled at the thought. This was exactly what she needed, to be in charge. Here we go. Time to make my move. Allison pulled her shirt off and dropped it on the blanket. Her bra was yellow and lacy—purchased during one of those dreadful beach shopping trips. It was the first nonwhite bra Allison had owned, and Sam stared at it with wide, amazed eyes.

Well, maybe not at the bra.

Maybe at what was inside the bra. Yes, probably so.

"You've seen me in a bikini," Allison joked. She loved the desire in Sam's eyes, but the desire was also mixed with fear and apprehension.

"You wanna do it?" Sam asked. "Have sex? Like now?"

"Maybe. Yes."

"I've never done it," Sam admitted. "Never come close. Have you?"

"Just Bob. And let’s not count him." Allison unlatched her bra and let it drop.

Sam's face became red and flustered. She looked as if she was about to shit her pants.

Allison looked over her own flat stomach and her breasts. She liked her boobs. They were not too large, not too small. They were the right amount of soft and firm. Her nipples were pink and erect. Aching for Sam's tongue and her touch.

"Do you like them?" Allison indicated her breasts.

Sam laughed, shakily. Her blush deepened. "I love them. But I don't know what to do."

"I'll show you, don't worry." Something in Sam's expression, something in her reaction, told Allison that Sam was likely as inexperienced as a seventeen-year-old could be these days. She probably did not masturbate.

"Have you had, you know. Have you had an O?" Allison asked.

"What?"

"An orgasm."

Deep swallow. Deeper blush, and Sam fidgeted. She looked like she wanted to escape. "No."

"Have you tried?"

"Tried to what?"

"Give yourself an O."

"Kinda," Sam said.

"Kinda how?"

"I do stuff, but it doesn't work."

"Where?" Allison asked.

"I put my fingers inside." Sam crooked her fingers to demonstrate.

Aha. Sam did not know the wonders of the clitoris. "I'm gonna show you something. It's a magic button." Oh shit. The realization hit Allison belatedly. Had she said, had she actually said...yes. She had repeated Bob's lines exactly. I'm gonna show you something. It's a magic button.

No. Shit, no.

"How did you get so smart?" Sam asked.

Bob. That's how. GO AWAY.

"Luck," Allison said. "That's all."

Sam giggled. "I can't believe this is happening. I thought I'd never get a girl. And here I am, with the most wonderful girl."

Allison pushed Bob out of her mind. "Ready to see where your button is?"

*****

Sam was not sure what to expect when Allison started touching her down there, but this, this, this this thisthisthis.

Shit.

This felt good. So good. Too good. So unlike anything Sam had experienced. Allison had Sam touch herself a few minutes too, and Sam marveled at her wetness. She could slide a couple of fingers inside herself, no problem, and then use that lube to touch her clit. Sam loved how Allison watched her, how Allison's eyes were wide and rapt.

"I have an idea," Allison said. "Keep touching yourself."

Allison nuzzled Sam's neck, her breasts, her earlobe, and then got down to business. Serious business, her lips, her teeth and her tongue doing all kinds of crazy stuff with Sam's breasts. Then Allison moved south. Sam stopped touching herself and let Allison's tongue take over. Hysteria rose inside Sam. Her body was different and weird, and waves surged inside her, wonderful, raw waves.

Sam wanted lots of this. Lots more.

*****

Allison and Sam did most everything imaginable during the next three hours. Rubbing clits, fingering, eating, humping, foreplay, lots of it. They came and came. Allison met God, and God was Sam—or, maybe, Sam's tongue. Allison found that nibbling Sam's earlobes drove Sam wild, and that Sam could reach orgasm simply from breast play.

When it was over, Allison and Sam entwined their sweaty bodies. "I love you," Sam signed. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

"I love you too." Allison studied her girlfriend’s features: the sharp lines of her face, the playful grin on her lips, her shining eyes.

It’s only going to get worse from here.

Allison tightened her grip on Sam. Where had that come from?

It won’t last. Certainly can’t get any better. You don’t love her. She doesn’t love you. You two don't know what true love is. You're too young. You don't know shit. You're just caught up in newness and lust.

Allison bit her lip. "Go away," she muttered.

Really think you can keep this up forever? Sooner or later, your mother’s going to find out, and you know exactly what she’ll do, even if you keep telling yourself she’s a good person.

"I'm hungry," Sam announced. "Let’s go in. Hey, guess what? I got good food today. Ice cream. I got Neapolitan, moose tracks, Rocky Road, cookies and cream. I'll fix us some, and maybe…" Sam winked. "I can eat off your stomach. What kind you want?"

Allison grinned weakly. "Mix them all."

Sam threw her an approving smile. "Yup, we’re meant to be together."

No, we’re not. We’re seventeen years old. This is a summer fling.

SHUT UP! GO AWAY!

"I lied," Allison said.

Sam frowned. "About what?"

"How I found my clit. It wasn't a lucky accident. Bob showed me."

"Bob showed...oh. You came with him?"

"No, not close. But he showed me where my clit was and said rubbing it would make me feel good and ready for him. He made me do it before he..." Allison mimicked thrusting.

Sam looked up at the moon as if it would tell her what to say. The moon was full, and Sam's profile was lovely, angelic. Allison waited for Sam to look back at her. "I didn't get wet. He had to get Momma's lube. At least he did that. All three times."

"He did you three times?"

"Yep. Three times. The last time is probably the one that got me pregnant."

Sam nodded slowly.

Allison sighed. "I wanted to tell you. I don't want to lie to you."

"Hey." Sam leaned in for a kiss. "You can talk to me anytime."

"Thank you."

"I really do love you," Sam said.

The simple, genuine declaration brought tears to Allison's eyes. "I really do love you, too."

"I'd like to meet him."

"Meet him?"

"Yeah. I'd like to meet him. And then kill him."

Allison had to admit that she would not mind Bob's demise. Many nights in bed and many daydreams had been spent on how she would do it.

"Haven't you thought about killing him?" Sam asked.

"Yes. But it won't happen."

"Guess not," Sam said.

"About that ice cream."

Sam brightened. "Hey, yeah. Stay right there. I’ll bring the ice cream out." She dressed quickly and retreated into the house.

Ha. Ha. Ha. It's going to be so funny when your mother finds out about you and Sam. Can you imagine how her eyes are going to jump out of their sockets?

"Stop it."

The disquieting voice did not waver. What ya doing, Allison? You're neglecting Allen. You've just fucked your brains out with Sam, while Allen, dear, sweet Allen, was dumped off upstairs. What if he calls out? He’s shit out of luck. You're abandoning him. Your...whatever you call him. Son? Brother? Decided yet?

Sam returned with two bowls of ice cream, and Allison felt sick to her stomach. The last thing in the world she wanted right now was to engage in ice cream games. She wanted to go get Allen, her beautiful little boy, and hold him, tell him she loved him and was so sorry for neglecting him, and that she would never, ever let Susan get her hands on him.

Chapter Twelve

Barry uncorked the glass decanter and poured an inch of amber liquid into a pristine crystal glass. He downed the alcohol in one gulp. The liquor burned his throat, and Barry closed his eyes in contentment. After a discreet look at his locked office door, he picked up the Scotch and drank directly from it.

A loud rap sounded from the other side of the door. Finally, Susan's here. Barry did not need to consult his watch to know that his wife was late to work. Again. Only Monday, and his week was shot to hell. He could not take it anymore. The trip to Chicago had been supposed to be half-business, half-fun, but Susan's tireless yammering about something trivial or the other had driven him nuts.

Susan pounded on the door once more. "Yoo-hoo, Beauie! I'm here. You in there?"

Barry hid the liquor and yanked open the door. "You're late again."

"Traffic, Beauregard."

"We have a new assignment for you. You'll be working with a new lawyer for the next couple of months. Maybe longer."

"Does that mean I'm not your secretary anymore?"

Barry led Susan to a corner office down the hall. "We hired a replacement for Stephens. Her name’s Helen Vierow."

Susan nodded vaguely. "Was Stephens the bald one with yellow teeth?"

Barry grimaced. "Yes." He peered into the office. Helen was talking into the phone. She met Barry's eyes, smiled and waved him and Susan in. She spoke a few last words and hung up.

"Good morning!" Helen stood and smiled warmly. She was tall and slender, with oriental and African features. Her smooth toffee-colored skin complemented deep chocolate brown eyes. She had high cheekbones and full, luscious lips. A severe bun held her black hair in place.

"Good morning, Helen." Barry indicated his wife. "Susan, I’d like you to meet Helen Vierow; she transferred from the Los Angeles branch. Helen, this is Susan, my wife, who'll be working with you."

Susan nodded gamely and took Helen’s outstretched hand.

"Nice to meet you, Susan. Barry talks about you all the time. Now, I have some papers for you to Xerox. Just a minute." She turned to Barry. "Can we do lunch at one? I'm booked all day, but I want to go over our ideas before we meet with the Lawtons tomorrow morning."

"I'm sorry, Elaine. I've asked Beauregard to meet me for lunch. By the way, it's Mrs. Cannizarro."

Helen gave Susan a thin smile. "By the way, it's Helen." She turned back to Barry. "Never mind about lunch. We'll meet early tomorrow morning."

Barry glanced back and forth between the two women. Looking at Susan, he thought of cold lettuce and bland water. Salad. With Helen, his stomach grumbled. He pictured steaming plates of delicious vegetables and meat. Chinese. Seafood. Steak. Burgers. He could hear Susan already: "Beauregard, Allison needs more clothes. Samantha needs a haircut. And why doesn't she have a boyfriend? Oh! Allen has a new friend whose father is a doctor and has this absolutely gorgeous brother whom Allison can date. Or Samantha could. Though I'm not sure if we would want to—well, never mind. I want a new car, I want new clothes, I want more trips, I want more paintings, I want more, more, more, more."

The decision was easy for Barry to make. "Susan, Bill Lawton is one of our biggest clients. We'll do lunch tomorrow."

"See you at one, Barry," Helen said. She retrieved a thick report, easily a hundred pages, from her desk and held it up for Susan. "Mrs. Cannizarro, I'd like you to make five copies of each page and bind them together like this report."

Susan peered at the document suspiciously. "All right," she replied. "It'll be ready by tomorrow morning."

Helen laughed. "You’re funny. Now, when you're done copying, could you type some letters? I also need you to make a few phone calls for me. Then after lunch, you can file some papers."

Susan gaped. "After lunch?"

Barry stuck his hands into his pockets and grinned. Yep, Helen Vierow was just what his wife needed.

*****

The Fourth of July night at the Salem Fair was perfect. Just muggy enough to give a summer feel, but not so muggy as to prevent Sam and Allison from having fun. The fair was a summertime staple in the Roanoke area, and Sam hoped she had timed events right. She wanted to be at the top of the Ferris wheel when the fireworks show started.

She and Allison climbed into their gondola, and Allison looked around. Then she took Sam's hand. Kissed it.

Shit. Sam hated that whenever they were in public, Allison had to look around before doing anything. Sam tried not to let it bother her. After all, they had both agreed to keep their romance under wraps.

Up they went. Stop. Up. Stop. Up, and Allison kissed Sam's hand again.

"Do you think Mom and Barry will have kids?" Allison asked.

Sam's smile froze, and the image of a devil child seared her mind. Please welcome to the world His Evil Highness, the Prince of Darkness. "They better not," Sam said.

"Why?"

Sam groaned. "Are you serious? Come on."

Glitters of red filled the sky, but Allison ignored the fireworks. "I realize Mom and Barry aren't doing too hot, but, you know."

Not too hot was an understatement. Barry and Susan had had a big fight last week at the dinner table. Sam had not understood the screamed words, and Allison did not interpret because she was tending to Allen, who was crying. Allison explained later that the fight was about the quality of Susan's work for Helen and Susan opening a joint credit card account without Barry's knowledge. The fight had ended with Susan quitting her job at the law firm and promising to close the account.

"Seriously, Allison. A baby?"

More fireworks, and the gondola reached the very top. Allison kept her focus on Sam, and Allison's expression was dark. Dark and thoughtful. "I'm being silly."

"Why do you say that?"

"Thinking too much," Allison said. "Too far ahead."

"How so?"

Allison's expression went from dark to shy. "No matter what happens, we won't be able to have a kid that's both biologically ours. But if my mother and your father had a baby, it'd be like you and I were kind of joined. The baby would have parts of us both." Allison groaned. "Sorry I'm an idiot. I told you I'm thinking too much. Don't freak."

Sam stared, and Allison fussed with a nail that apparently was chipped. The Ferris wheel sent them for another whirl, and Sam forced herself to breathe. "Hey." She kissed Allison softly. "That would be great."

"Really?"

Sam nodded. Her and Allison, embodied in a child. A beautiful little child.

"It's not great," Allison said. "I don't know why I'm thinking like this."

"About kids, you mean?"

A sheepish smile. "Yeah. We haven't been together a month even."

"I don't care. Is your mom on birth control?"

"I guess."

"Then we'll sub out her pills or something."

Allison rolled her eyes. "Very funny."

Sam had never cared to have kids. But Allison obviously wanted them, and Sam's mind changed. Snap. Just like that.

They got off the Ferris wheel. The fireworks were still exploding, but Sam had a desperate urge to keep the conversation going. "Boy or girl?"

"Mom would probably like a boy."

"No. Not hers. I mean our baby. Yours and mine."

Allison's eyes bore into Sam, sending her a private message. Saying: This is it. You and me. We are it. Together forever. "As long as the baby's healthy," Allison said. "I would love to have a baby who would call me his mother from the beginning, for always. I want a baby I won't be ashamed of, a baby who would not be ashamed of me."

What do you say to that? Sam swallowed the lump in her throat. "That sounds great."

"Three's a good number."

"I agree."

"I could get pregnant first. And we could adopt our middle kid. Maybe from China or Africa."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Are you implying I'll get pregnant for number three?"

Allison laughed. "Maybe."

Sam kissed her. "I'll think about it." Hell, yes. Anything for you.

"I want a sperm donor with black hair for mine. Our baby would be stunning."

"With my hair and your green eyes?" Sam asked. "Definitely."

*****

July slithered off, and so did August. Sam and Allison had settled into normal everyday routines. Sam did not get to see Allison as much as she would like, because of Allison’s full-time summer hours at The Addict. But they were going as strong as ever and usually fell asleep in each other’s arms, with Allison’s alarm perpetually set for five-thirty a.m. After their conversation about kids, they had started to map out their futures together, and Sam loved it.

On the first day of September, they were in Allison's room and about to get ready for a bash at the Cannizarro house in honor of Sam's senator grandfather.

Sam brought up college, something that had been bothering her for a couple of weeks. "I think I want to go to Gallaudet."

"Really? That'll be cool."

"It'll be nice to be with other deaf people and to not put up with interpreter crap, but where do you want to go?"

"Community college, I guess."

"Go to college in D.C. with me. Or Northern Virginia. GMU's pretty cheap. Dad will help pay."

"I..." Allison seemed torn. "I don't feel right taking your father's money. If I live at home, I can save money. There's Allen too. He needs me to balance out my mother. I can't leave him."

Sam sighed, disappointed. She had anticipated such a reply, but part of her had hoped Allison would go north with her as well. "Guess it won't be too bad," Sam replied. You can always change your mind.

"Washington's four hours away. We'll get to see each other more than when you're in military school."

"True. Ugh. I don't want to go back to school. I'm going to miss you so much."

"First we gotta do this stupid party."

Bash day had arrived amid heavy planning. For weeks, Susan had been running around the house and around town like a chicken with its head cut off. Many of the power players in the area would be at the Cannizarro house, players including the mayor of Roanoke, a few congressmen and state senators, distinguished lawyers and doctors, and the boards of the country, garden, and ladies' clubs. Susan had ensnared who she thought was the perfect date for Allison. His name was Brock White. He was a sophomore at Harvard and the eldest son of the owner of the local professional hockey team.

*****

Susan was on the verge of tears. The party was blazing full scale, but it was not progressing according to plan. Senator Cannizarro and his wife, Nancy, were laughing and socializing amicably, but Barry was always flitting off and talking with this person and that, as if he did not want to be with his own wife! And, as Susan noted with distrustful gray eyes, her husband was spending an inordinate amount of time chatting up that Elaine Voo-doo woman from work. Julia was practically draping herself over Barry as well.

Susan glided to Julia, who was, at last, sitting alone. "Julia! Can we have a little talk?"

Julia raised an eyebrow. "Sure."

Susan led Julia into the hallway half-bathroom and locked the door behind them. Susan was so beautiful, she really was. Standing next to her was Norene's nearly identical sister, with bags under her eyes and graying hair. Honestly, how does Gerald manage with such a drab wife?

"What do you need to talk about?" Julia asked.

"Stay away from my husband," Susan said simply.

Julia’s hand fluttered to her chest. "What? Do you think I’m trying to seduce him?" Her surprise appeared sincere.

"Are you?"

"No, Susan. No way. Barry’s like a brother to me. Nothing more."

"All right."

"Susan." Julia touched her hand to Susan’s forearm. "Try to enjoy the party."

"Do you see that new woman from work?"

"Helen Vierow?"

"I think Beauregard likes her."

Julia sighed. She looked away, and that was all the response Susan needed. Needles jabbed her all over. Her husband was falling in love with another woman.

*****

Sam was not sure what to make of Helen Vierow, attorney at law. She was drop-dead gorgeous and exotic-looking, no doubt about it. She was a bit taller than Allison and obviously of mixed African and Asian heritage. She wore a long ivory dress with a slit traversing the length of her shapely right leg.

Allen was besotted with her. And so was Barry, from the looks of it. He thought he was being subtle, Sam was sure of it. Little peeks here and there. Maybe he was fooling most people, but not Sam. The way his eyes scanned the other lawyer’s body, the way his mouth widened appreciatively whenever she leaned into him. The way he laughed at everything Helen said.

Yep, Barry had a crush. And Susan was all too aware of it. Steam erupted from her ears every time Barry and Helen crossed paths, and now, even as Helen put on a little magic show for Allen, Susan fumed.

Sam smiled from her spot across the crowded living room as Helen performed another trick for the boy. Allen's mouth formed a perfect 'o' as Helen opened her fisted hand to reveal a coin.

Sam decided to join them. It was time to check out the other woman, see if she was better than Susan. Time for a new stepmother.

"Sam!" Allen signed excitedly. "Helen's cool! She can do magic tricks!"

Helen dug around in her purse. She came up with a pen and several ATM receipts. "Hi! My name's Helen. I work with your dad. It's nice to finally meet you."

Sam jotted a reply: "Nice to meet you too. Dad told me how you saved his neck last week in a divorce case. And you’re quite the magician."

"Your father’s a great guy to work with. He told me you might be coming to the office a few times, maybe learn the ropes."

Great. "That's news to me. I’m not interested in becoming a lawyer."

"I don’t blame you. It’s a lot of work, that’s for sure. Still, if you’re ever interested, shoot me an e-mail. I know it isn’t ‘cool’ to work with dear old dad."

"Sounds good, thanks."

Helen handed Sam a business card.

"Do you mind if I steal my date for a few minutes?" Sam asked.

Helen laughed and waved her assent.

Sam led Allen to the buffet. "I needed an excuse to go back for fourths." She heaped luscious desserts upon her plate. She fixed some food for Allen and then, feeling quite guilty about it, scanned the room for Helen. She was beautiful, really, and she seemed nice. Sam had a feeling Helen Vierow would not be her stepmother anytime soon. Sam’s gaydar, or whatever passed for her gaydar, had whistled throughout their conversation. Something in Helen's eyes, the way she looked at Sam. Something very subtle, something Helen probably was not aware she was doing.

Sam guided Allen to Allison’s and Brock's seats. "Helen does good tricks!" Allen exclaimed.

Brock grinned. "That's the hot lawyer, right?"

"She's good at magic!"

Sam fingered a chocolate chip cookie. This was getting old. She wanted to tell Brock that Allison was her girl. She wanted to tell her father. Her stepmother. Everybody! She wanted to show Allison off.

Sam pushed her chair back. "Excuse me." She went up to her bedroom and was about to shut the door when Allison slithered in.

"What’s wrong?" Allison asked.

"You know what’s wrong. I’m tired of seeing you with guys. I’m tired of sneaking around. I want everybody downstairs to know how much I love you."

"I want that too."

"Let's tell them."

"Sam, please. Give it time. You're going back to school in a few days. You'll be gone, and I'll be stuck here to deal with your father and my mother if we tell."

Sam peppered Allison's face with fluttery kisses. "I love you. Sorry I’m being a jerk.

"You're not being a jerk. I love you too. Hey."

"Hey what?"

Allison got to her knees. "Spread your legs."

Sam blinked. "Naughty."

"A little taste to tide me over before we go back down."

Chapter Thirteen

ONE AND A HALF YEARS LATER

MID-JANUARY

"What do you think?" Sam inspected the rotund fellow. A snowdog was not supposed to have a corncob pipe for a mouth and coals for eyes. This one did, though, thanks to Allen.

"Wonderful, Sammy!" Allen’s cheeks glowed red from the cold. "That's Corny!"

Sam smiled, but a familiar pain squeezed her heart. "Corny didn't smoke."

"Do you miss him?"

"Yes."

Allen nodded gravely. "Me too."

"You didn't really know him."

"We played a lot!" Allen protested.

Sam chuckled. Allen had pictures of Corny in his bedroom and looked at them every day. He often asked questions about Corny too, but Sam suspected this was due to his desire for a dog rather than his truly missing Corny. Allen looked so much like Allison when he pouted. In fact, the boy, now five and a half years old, looked more and like Allison with each passing day.

Sam had just finished her first semester at Gallaudet. Allison had visited twice, and Sam went home at least one weekend each month, plus Thanksgiving and now this winter break. During each visit, she marveled at how fast Allen was growing. She hated missing out on it. She loved Allen as if he were her own biological brother. She understood Allison's reluctance to leave him, especially since Susan was getting worse and Allen was, well, Allison’s biological child.

Fortunately, Sam thought often, Allen and Allison had inherited nothing from Susan. Sam hoped that would be the case with the new baby. Allison had gotten her wish for her and Sam to be combined in a little person. Susan was seven months pregnant, and Sam's bedroom was now a nursery. A nursery with Sam's bed still in it. Susan was pushing her out little by little, but where else would the baby sleep?

A snowball smacked Sam in the face, knocking her out of her reverie. However, she had no trouble catching the perpetrator. Her stepbrother was hiding and giggling behind the snowdog. "Bad!" Sam stuffed heaps of snow down his jacket.

"Agggh!" Allen laughed and screamed. "Stop!"

"Come on. Let's see how Al's doing then we'll build more snow animals."

"Okay!" Allen wrinkled his nose. "I don't like being sick. I wish Al would get better so she could play with us."

"Me too."

"Al is my mother," Allen said solemnly.

"I know."

"Momma’s my mom too."

"Yep. You’re lucky you have two moms."

"My dad’s in jail."

"Yep. Yep."

"Do you love Al? Do you kiss her?"

"What?" Sam did a double take. "What?"

Allen wiped snow off his jacket. "You like each other."

"We do." Sam was not sure how to handle Allen's questioning. "Hey, let's go inside and get warm." Sam swooped her stepbrother up before he could pursue the matter.

After they tugged their boots off and dried themselves, Sam carried Allen into the house. Allison had been sick with the flu but had hopes for a full recovery by the end of the week.

"Hey!" Allison waved from her spot on the couch.

"Hi." Sam smiled right away; it was the same grin that showed up every time she saw the love of her life. Sam crossed to Allison and wrapped her arms around her girlfriend. Allen squirmed between them, and Sam broke the embrace. "You're feeling better."

"Much." Allison's green eyes were almost back to their lively state. "That medicine you gave me this morning really helped."

Sam winked, as the medicine had included a big dose of loving. She set Allen down. "Come see the snowdog!" he cried.

"I will after lunch. Let's eat some hot soup to warm those cold bones of yours."

Allen frowned. "Lunchtime already? Daddy said he'd be home to eat with us. He promised. He said he'd take me sleighing."

Sam met Allison's eyes. Neither one had the heart to tell the boy that Barry was on track to break yet another promise and probably would not be home until after supper. He spent almost all his time at work, including weekends. Susan was pushing him away with her ceaseless whining and yammering, and he was less than thrilled about being a father again.

Sam poured tomato soup for everyone and prepared piping hot grilled cheese sandwiches. Allison led Allen to the dining room table and sat him down. "Be careful," she warned. "Let the food cool off first."

Sam beckoned Allison into the living room. "Outside, Allen asked if you and I were together."

"And then you gave me that hug?"

"I was happy to see you."

"We need to be more careful."

"Why?" Sam felt passion heat her cheeks and her body. "I don't see what the big deal is. I love you, and you love me. Everyone will have to get used to it sooner or later, and better sooner! If they don't like it, fuck them! We can take care of each other. I'm tired of sneaking around like we're doing something wrong. How much longer will it go on?"

"Sam." Allison's weary posture belied that she was not up for another fight on that topic.

Sam exhaled a frustrated breath. "Fine." She patted Allison on the shoulder and kissed her softly. "Fine. When does your mother get back from the doctor anyway?"

*****

"Congratulations, Mrs. Cannizarro," said Dr. Lee. He adjusted his spectacles and brushed a shock of white hair out of his eyes. "Another excellent checkup. The baby's doing great and is right on track."

Susan beamed. "Wonderful! Now, Dr. Lee…" She leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I know Beauregard and I told you we don't want to know the sex, but I've changed my mind. Beauregard still doesn't want to know, but I'd like to."

"Are you absolutely sure?"

Susan grinned. "Yes." If the child was a boy, everything would be perfect beyond reason. A girl would be wonderful, of course, but a boy would pass on the Cannizarro name. And Susan, as the mother of Barry's son, would have her future paved in gold brick. She was ready for good news. The visit before this one had been horrible, finding out this baby would be her last because of an ovarian complication. Moreover, Barry, without her prior knowledge, had a vasectomy a couple of months ago. He had not taken an iota of interest in his upcoming child. "Boy, girl, dog, carrot, whatever," Barry muttered every time Susan pleaded with him that they ought to find out the sex. He had gone with Susan to the doctor only once.

"I'm ready to know," Susan repeated for emphasis. "Tell me, Dr. Lee. Boy or girl?"

"You're going to have a boy."

"Ohh! It's a boy. I'm going to have a boy! Thank you!" She hugged the doctor and kissed his cheek. She sounded out her new son's name in her mind. Beauregard Bartholomew Cannizarro Junior. Grandson of a United States senator, son of a wealthy lawyer. She, Susan, was his mother! That would show her parents.

She hummed to music as she drove home in the Cadillac. The car was barely one and a half years old, past its prime, but Barry refused to purchase a new vehicle for her. He was turning into a stranger. Work, work, work. He was having an affair with Helen Vierow, no question about it. Susan could overlook it for now. As long as she had her money and Barry’s son, she would be fine. In time, Barry would realize his mistakes and come running back, tail duly hanging between his legs.

Chapter Fourteen

A few days later, Allison smiled as Sam straddled her. "I love you," Allison signed. "I'll miss you so much." Sam was going back to school early next week. Allison was lucky to have Sam. She really was. How many other people would be as patient and understanding about keeping their relationship under wraps? How many other people would be simply crazy about Allen like Sam was?

Sam returned the grin, her blue eyes twinkling. "Don't think about me going back. Now, about you loving me. Ready to show me how much?"

Sam and Allison were alone, all alone for the next couple of hours. Barry was working late as usual, Susan was at her sister's house, and Allen was with his best friend Richie.

Allison laughed. "Yep." She was fully recovered from the flu and ready to celebrate.

Sam pulled her sweater and turtleneck over her head. Allison watched with rapt attention. God, how she loved Sam's body. Sam unbuttoned her jeans and stood. She stripped to her panties. It was one of the rare times Sam was not wearing boxers. She twirled around, displaying a perfect butt and flat stomach. "I know you'd like this."

Allison licked her lips. "Definitely." Her throbbing clamored to be addressed immediately. Unfortunately, Sam seemed to be in one of her enticing, teasing moods. She would dish out a little here and there. Allison would get what she wanted, but it would take a while.

Sam slipped back into bed and slid off Allison's bulky sweater.

It was a pleasant surprise for Allison and for her throbbing as Sam took a breast in her hand, then in her mouth. She licked and sucked the aroused nipple. Maybe this would not be such a long, teasing wait, after all.

Sam replaced the breast in Allison's bra.

"Don't do that!" Allison cried. "Oh, God! I hate when you do this!"

Sam's lips twisted into a playful smile. "Can't wait?"

Allison narrowed her eyes. "Sam! Please."

Sam drew her lips together in pretend thought. "Since you've been sick, I suppose it'd be mean if I kept you waiting. You did say please."

"Hurry. Please."

Sam's eyes widened in mock concern. "Goodness. Where's the fire?"

Allison growled and pounced on Sam. "You are not funny! Not funny, not funny!"

*****

Susan snarled and mashed her finger against the garage opener, but the door did not budge. She tried again and again, but to no avail. The battery was dead. Figures. Today had been a lousy day.

Susan pulled herself out of the Cadillac and unlocked the front door of the house. She stomped into the kitchen and set her purse down. Her back ached from her pregnant weight, and a pounding headache was threatening to develop. She simply could not tolerate one more minute with her sister. Pictures of their parents hung all over Jackie's house, and a new photo seemed to find its way onto some wall or the other at an alarming rate.

Strange, guttural moaning sounded from upstairs, and Susan frowned. Who could that be? The answer came to her right away.

Her husband. And her daughter.

Oh God, oh God.

How could Allison do this to her? Allison had not been at fault in the Bob mess. It would have been so easy to blame the situation on Allison, but the girl had been twelve years old.

She was eighteen now. And again fucking her mother’s man. Susan’s body burned with righteous rage. She strode into her bedroom and snatched the camera. Capturing her husband and her eighteen-year-old daughter in the middle of their throes of passion would net her a nice sum in a divorce settlement.

And there was no question now about divorce, not even with a baby on the way. Not with Barry screwing Allison! But that was okay. Susan would have her piles of money and her gold goose of a son.

Susan tiptoed upstairs, her heart brimming with self-righteousness. She reached the top of the staircase and got to her knees. She crept the few inches to Allison's bedroom, a tricky maneuver with her bulging, pregnant belly.

Allison's door was a crack open, and Susan clenched her jaw. How brazen her husband and her daughter were! They had not a care in the world.

The wailing increased in intensity. Susan could not miss Allison's unmistakable "Ohhh!" and the queer, prolonged cries of ecstasy as if Allison had discovered God.

Barry had never satisfied Susan to that extent. No man had, and anger frothed inside her. He thought she was a good for nothing old bat, did he? Dried up and shriveled? She would show him. She could do things her daughter could not begin to imagine. Yes, she would show her husband just what he was missing, and he'd beg her to stay with him. This affair was a blessing in disguise, Susan was sure of it.

Still on all fours, Susan peeked into Allison's dimly lit bedroom. The bed was certainly getting its share of vigorous activity. Susan got to her feet and positioned her camera. She pressed the button to tape video.

In the next second, it became crystal clear that the person Allison was screwing was not Barry, but his daughter.

Susan's jaw dropped, and she slunk back down all fours. Her mind was blank, and she could only stare at the moving, writhing, sweaty spectacle before her. Two bodies moving as one. I ought to whip the living hell out of them right now. The Bible says that’s wrong. However, all Susan could do was watch with morbid fascination.

There were their naked young bodies, skin to skin, flesh to flesh, pink, erect nipple to pink, erect nipple.

Allison's nails raking trails on Sam's back.

Sam holding onto Allison, not just any Allison, but her own stepsister! Holding onto Allison for dear life and spasming as Allison finished some fingerwork on Sam's clit.

It went on and on and on and on, more joinings and more joinings and more shudderings and more cries of release.

Susan was exhausted just from watching. She felt old, very old.

Helpless and useless.

Jealous too.

Allison was happy, so very happy, and in love.

Susan found her way back downstairs. Allison apparently was gay. And in love. So, all the boys Susan had fixed Allison up with: no good. All the diets. Encouraging Allison to fix herself up. All that work, and who was Allison with?

Sam. Her own stepsister. A deaf girl.

Susan swallowed her disgust. What was the harm in fixing up a few more dates for Allison? The girl was not gay. Could not be. Samantha, in her dark, brooding way, was a strong personality. She was influencing Allison with her men's clothes and men's ways.

A phase. That's what this was. A phase. Both Sam and Allison were going through phases. They would end up with fine men. They simply had to find the right guys, and they would.

Eventually.

But better sooner than later. Otherwise, what would people think? Susan's two daughters with each other. Goodness, no. That would not do. She would be excommunicated from high society.

Why me? Why does stuff like this always happen to me?

*****

Susan knocked on Allison’s door the next morning. Barry had left for work. Allen was off at school, and Sam had gone to the offices with her father. Allison was scheduled to work at noon. They had plenty of time to talk.

Allison answered the door. She was curling her hair with a curling iron. "Hey, Momma."

"We need to talk."

"Okay." Allison joined Susan on the bed.

"I've set up a date for you," Susan said. "His name is Jeremiah. He is absolutely gorgeous."

"Momma," Allison whined.

"You haven't been on a date in a year. You need to get out there and busting. Okay?"

"I'm so busy."

"Well, you're going out with Jeremiah next weekend. You will love him. Trust me. He has the most gorgeous hazel eyes."

Allison gave an irritable tug at her sleeve. "No."

Susan cocked an eyebrow. "No?"

"I don't want to."

"Why?"

Allison puckered her lips. "Just don't want to."

"What would people think? You and Samantha. Even you can't admit it! You know it's wrong."

Allison went pale, and Susan hated the fear in her daughter’s eyes, as if Allison thought Susan would hit her or something.

"Why do you think I’m with her?" Allison asked.

"I came home early yesterday. You and Samantha were otherwise occupied."

"Ah."

"Do you love her?"

Allison licked her lips, and her gaze turned vague. "I don’t know."

This was a surprise to Susan. She agreed Allison did not know, but she had expected Allison to answer otherwise. "You don’t know?"

Allison shook her head. "We’re young. Who knows what love is?"

Susan and Allison sat a long while, not saying anything, not doing anything.

"You’re not mad?" Allison ventured at last.

"I imagine it's only a phase. For the both of you. The Bible says being gay is wrong."

Something flashed in Allison's eyes. Anger. Aggression. Something like that. "A phase? No, Momma. The Bible contradicts itself in many places."

"Come here." Susan took Allison's hand and led her to the full-length mirror. "Look at that face in there. What do you see?"

"I don’t know."

"You are eighteen years old. You are young, impossibly young. Your whole life is ahead of you. I love Samantha. I do. But you could do better than her."

"Better than a deaf girl, you mean?"

Susan shrugged. Yes.

"She got nearly perfect SAT scores, Momma!"

"And that’s great. It is." Susan bit her lip. She had no idea what she was doing, what she was saying. "Darling, you're eighteen years old. I, too, was eighteen when I ran away with your father. We were madly in love. I thought it would last forever. I was young and foolish. After only a year, he started drinking and cheating on me. He couldn't cope with a baby and all the pressures of adulthood. You remember how bad it was."

"Sam's not my father."

"That’s what you think," Susan murmured. "The fairy tale will end."

"Maybe."

"Does Beauregard know?"

"No," Allison said.

"Good."

"It isn't a phase. It isn't," Allison said softly, but firmly. "I've known I was gay for a long time. Since before Bob."

"If you say so."

"I never told anyone the whole story, but Bob came to me in the first place because..." Allison swallowed. "He caught me reading a lesbian magazine. He said there was no need for that, that I needed a real man."

Susan hated talking about Bob. Hated remembering him. A real man. A real man. A real man would not have forced himself upon her twelve-year-old child. Most of all, Susan hated the deep, dark part of her that still loved Bob. He had been good. He had been wonderful, in his own ways. He had made her laugh in a way no one else could. He'd made her feel perfect and lovely and gorgeous.

She hated that a tiny part of her continued to love the man and that the same tiny part hated her daughter and Allen.

"Momma?"

"What?"

"I’m sorry Allen isn’t yours. He should have been yours."

Susan covered her pregnant stomach. "He’s mine. Mine and yours. Okay?"

"What’s going to happen when I move out? Does Allen stay or go?"

The question startled Susan. Of course Allen would stay with her. Susan was his mother, and Barry was his father. "I imagine he'll stay with me. You visit as often as you like."

Allison drew back, and her gaze was pained. "No, Momma. I think I'm his mother."

Susan took a deep breath and tried to relax. "We don’t have to worry about that for a while, do we?" She managed a laugh. "Just never move out."

"Oh, Momma."

"Allison, darling. Go out with Jeremiah. Just one time. He is absolutely gorgeous. One time. And I saw the most wonderful haircut in a magazine the other day at Dr. Lee's. It's perfect for you."

"Momma."

"You haven't met the right man yet." Susan patted Allison's shoulder. "We will find him. We'll find the man of your dreams, and Jeremiah is a great start."

*****

"I have a PowerPoint that sums up Virginia law on child custody issues," Helen typed on her computer. "Would you like to watch it?"

Zzz, Sam thought. Sure. Let me just throw myself off a cliff first. Thank goodness she had insisted on driving separately to the law offices. She would make a beeline for the exit as soon as possible. She had spent the morning with Barry, and they'd had a nice lunch at a steakhouse. Now Sam was stuck with Helen. Perhaps stuck was not the best word, because Helen was nice. And easy on the eyes. Sam did not want to be here, though. She would rather stop in at The Addict, catch Allison on her break. She would rather go to the mall and look at various rings. But she could do all that tomorrow. Humoring her father was important. He was paying for her college, after all.

"Sure," Sam typed.

"Great." Helen set up the PowerPoint and wrote: "Just get me if you need anything." She set up camp at a corner table.

The PowerPoint title slide read: CHILD CUSTODY AND VIRGINIA LAW. Sam clicked to bring the next slide up. Eh. I really don't want to do this. She grabbed a notepad and pen. She studied Helen a moment. Helen was cool. Helen would give her honest, neutral advice. She would not blab to Barry.

Sam wrote: "You seem to know my dad pretty well. Could I get your opinion on something?" She took a deep breath and approached Helen. Sat across from her.

Helen read the question. "Sure," she answered.

"If I told my dad I was gay, and that Allison and I were together, what would he do?"

Helen's eyes went wide, and she gave Sam a small, startled look. She held her pen a while before responding with a: "Wow. Well. He'd probably need time to adjust."

"Do you think he'd get, like, mad and throw us out? Stop paying for our college?"

"Oh, no, no," Helen voiced. Helen's lips were okay to read, not as easy as Susan's lips, but not impossible like some other people's. Helen wrote: "I can't imagine he would. He's probably cooler than you think."

"What about Susan?"

"Maybe not so cool. Who knows with her?"

So far, so good. Helen was not recoiling or flying to Barry for a round of tattle tale. Sam decided to continue. "I'm tired of keeping secret about me and Allison. Allison says we can't tell and that it's easy for me to want to be in the open because I don't have to live with them all the time."

"Do you think she has a point?" Helen wrote.

"I guess. I'd do anything for her, anyway. Keep quiet forever, whatever. We're the ones for each other. I love her so much. The sneaking around just gets a little draining."

Helen nodded. Gave Sam a sympathetic smile. She wrote: "I can imagine. It's an unusual situation."

"I feel better already. Having told you."

"Good. So, any questions about what I do at my job or...?"

Ah. Sam's cue to be a good obedient student, to go back to her PowerPoint. However, she really did feel better. Much better. Unburdened. Her friends at Gallaudet knew about her and Allison, but they were, well, friends. Far-off friends. This was a woman Barry worked with, a woman he respected.

"Do you believe in soulmates?" Sam asked. She felt stupid as she wrote the question, but she had to ask. The connection between her and Allison was indescribable. She had discussed the matter with some of her Gally friends. But these conversations were superficial. Helen was older, more mature. She would likely have a more reasoned take on the subject than party-hearty college students.

"Well, no," Helen wrote.

"Why?"

"The world has billions and billions of people. Many millions of people could be compatible with any one person, make any one person very happy. And who is right for one person at a certain stage in their lives might not be right at a different stage."

"I understand. I used to think all that too, until I met Allison."

"Then you're very lucky."

"I imagine us married someday. Happy, with kids. Twenty years from now, we're...I don't know. Hard to explain. But I love her. I want to ask her to marry me. How long should I wait?"

"Probably until you're finished with college."

Sam had expected this answer, and it made sense. Both logically and emotionally. "Sometimes I get the feeling she doesn't believe in us, that she's scared to."

"Then go ahead, ask her sooner to marry you if you think that's right. Do I think you should? Well, no. I remember my first love. There's a depth of feeling you get that's incomparable. But I also know there's no use with words, because the heart feels what it wants to feel."

Sam read Helen's response a couple of times. This reasonable, educated colleague of her father's was giving her the green light to marry Allison. So maybe the idea was not as foolish as Sam thought it might be. A quick plan formed in her mind, and a delicious exhilaration filled her body. Everywhere. Her toes, her nose, her fingers. Allison would be her wife one day, and Sam could not wait for the pieces to fall into place. "I'll ask her over summer break. That'll give me time to find a job at Gally, save for a decent ring, or a decent something, and come up with a really cool proposal."

"Sounds good. Hey, your dad just knocked on the door."

*****

Allison was in shock as she wandered around town in the elderly Lumina. Her mother knew. Her mother knew about her and Sam, and…

Nothing.

No outburst. No snarling. No ultimatums.

Allison had called in sick to work. She weighed her options again and again. The time had come to choose, as Allison knew it would.

Sam or Allen.

Allison owed Sam so much, loved her with all her heart. Her time with Sam had been nothing short of heaven. But Allison had always known who she would choose. It was not even a real decision, was it?

Allen was her son. He was part of her. That would always be a fact. She had changed hundreds of diapers, bathed him countless times, fixed him meals, read him bedtime stories. Kissed his boo-boos and wiped away his tears. If he was happy, she was happy.

Allison should let Sam be free. Let Sam have her life, unencumbered from trips home, unencumbered from dating a girl with a child. Allison's relationship with Sam was unpredictable. They were young. What they had would die out.

I want to take my child with me when I move out.

Allison needed to shift her focus to Allen, to becoming his mother one hundred percent. She needed to mold herself into someone Susan would let Allen live with. Allison and Sam would break up eventually, so what was the harm in being an overachiever and breaking up now? She retreated into that little, gray corner of her mind that was her escape when Bob thumped inside her. In this corner, Allison could be mean or queen of the world or anyone she wanted to be.

She would break up with Sam when Sam got home. Why dally? She would let Sam live her life. Susan was right. Allison was eighteen, Sam nineteen. The fairy tale would end some day. How many people who got together in high school lived happily ever after together? Practically no one. Certainly not her and Sam.

Alcohol. I need alcohol. Soft edges. Blurs. Happiness. Allison had not drank since that first time with Sam, but she knew she would have to tonight. After the breakup.

*****

Allison curled up in bed until she could delay no longer. She ventured into the bathroom she shared with Allen. Sam would be home anytime. No chance she was staying a full day with her father. Allison applied clear lip gloss to her lips.

I'm straight.

I never really loved you.

Your deafness is a drag.

You're lousy in bed.

I hate eating you.

I've met someone else.

Blah blah blah.

Allison wrote a letter. A script, really. Not that she was handing Sam a letter and walking away, because Sam deserved better. However, a letter/script would help Allison prepare her speech. Above all, she had to end the relationship so that Sam would know it was over, period. Allison would not mention Susan because mentioning Susan would give Sam hope. Would give Sam a loophole, and this breakup was one hundred percent voluntary on Allison's part.

From the first time I kissed you at the beach, from the first time I let you in my bed, I knew I would break your heart. And I am very sorry. I am eighteen years old. You are nineteen. We've been way in over our heads. We've already mapped out our futures, planned our vacations, how many kids we're gonna have. It's too much. It's overwhelming. I love you, but I don't feel right with you anymore. And you can do better than me. You're right that you shouldn't have to sneak around behind your dad's back. You're away at college. You're meeting new people all the time. Forget about me. Please.

Allison heard Dino pull up, and she scurried back in the gray corner of her mind. She would stay there a long time. Maybe the rest of her life.

*****

Sam was halfway up the steps to Allison's room when she rethought the bears. She stopped on a middle step and pulled them out of her pockets. One bear was yellow, the other black. They matched her hair color and Allison's hair color perfectly, but, well, they were from a gas station and tagged EXXON on one side of their chests. But, damn, the bears were cute. They were about the length of a soda can, and there was something about their eyes. An indefinable something.

EXXON. Not exactly romantic. Eh. Allison won't care. She probably needed a pick-me-up. Sam had stopped by The Addict after leaving the law offices only to find out Allison called in sick. Sam stuffed the bears back into her pockets. She bounced the rest of the way to Allison's room. She knocked, and Allison opened the door a moment later.

"Hey!" Sam drew Allison in for a long hug and kissed her. "I missed you."

"How was the law firm?"

Sam rolled her eyes. "I'm definitely not becoming a lawyer. Hey, are you sick?"

Allison grinned, but not a true grin. "No, but we need to talk."

Uh-oh. Sam noted Allison's set face, clamped mouth and tight gaze. "What about?"

"Us."

Sam forced her lips to part in a stiff, curved smile. This is nothing. This will be nothing. "Sure," Sam said nonchalantly. She parked herself on Allison's bed. "What about us?"

"I have thought about what you've been saying. What you've been saying many times. Multiple times. That you're tired of sneaking around."

"You're ready to come out?"

Allison sighed. "Here's the thing. We're young. No one who dates in high school ends up together long term."

"We're in college."

"But we're freshmen. And we got together in high school. You're in D.C. You meet new people every day."

Sam told herself her body was fine and that she did not feel like she had been sucker punched. Allison was breaking up with her, but Sam refused to let the realization take root. "We can be the exception to the high school rule."

"It's too much. You're talking about how many kids we'll have and where we'll live."

"So are you. Remember the Salem Fair? And like a hundred conversations since then?"

"Sam, come on."

Shit. Everything was different now. "I'll shut up about kids and whatever. Didn't mean to overwhelm you."

"I'm dragging you down. I'm keeping you from fully living your life at Gallaudet."

Allison's gaze was pained, and her chin had that resolute jut that told Sam that Allison's mind was made up. How can it be made up? "We were fine yesterday. We made love for like three hours yesterday! You weren't complaining."

"I've felt this way a while."

"Since when?"

Allison lowered her gaze. "Since we got together."

"Something happened. Did your mother get to you?"

"No," Allison said, but something about her expression signaled that she was lying.

Sam squeezed one of the bears through her pocket. So this was how it would be. In the end, Allison had no backbone. She did not have the ovaries to stand up to her mother. She did not love Sam enough. She was not proud enough of Sam, of their love, to tell her mother: "I love Sam. I'm meant to be with her, and nothing you do will change that." So maybe Sam was better off without Allison anyway. Sam was tired, sick, of sneaking around, of having to hide her relationship with Allison. The worst of it was, Sam was angrier at herself than at Allison. Because Sam knew this day would come. She had been deluding herself about the power of her and Allison's love. Power? What power? What love? In the end, what they had was nothing.

Masking her turmoil with a deceptive calmness, Sam drew the bears out. She tossed them on Allison's bed. "Guess you don't want them."

Allison stood stiff, and Sam was increasingly numb with rage and confusion. At least Allison was not spouting some shit like: "Let's be friends." More than one and a half years she and Allison had been together. Sam had poured all she had, her heart, her love into Allison. And this was what she got in return?

"Please," Sam said. "Don't." She would beg if she had to.

Allison's cheeks flushed. "We wouldn't have worked out."

"I'll transfer. I could go to Roanoke College. Or Hollins."

"Sam, no. This is what I mean when I say I'm holding you back."

Sam closed her eyes, and when she opened them, Allison said: "Maybe one day we can be friends."

Great. Here the friends shit comes. How could Allison be so calm, so controlled? She's her mother's daughter. "What are you going to do? Go back to dating guys or what?"

A look of tired sadness crossed Allison's features. "Sam."

"You going to have your baby with him?"

Another "Sam."

"At least tell me what changed. How did Susan find out?"

"She didn't. She doesn't know."

Allison was lying, and Sam knew what she had to do. Ask Allison to marry her. Not in the summer, but now. Forget getting a job and saving for a ring.

"Allison," Sam began. "From the first time I saw you in the kitchen, I knew you were special. I knew we would be happy together. I love you. I love Allen." Sam got on one knee, and she looked up at Allison. What she saw in Allison's face—dismay—terrified her, but she plugged on. "Allison, will you marry me?"

Allison hesitated. Hesitated a motherfucking long time, and Sam allowed herself to hope. Allison loved her, clear as day. Allison loved her and wanted to marry her.

"Sam," Allison said at last, "us getting married would be the craziest thing in the world."

"You don't know that."

"I do." Allison's chin trembled, exactly like her mother's chin trembled. "Think, Sam. Think with your head, please. Our whole lives are ahead of us! I don't know who I am yet. You don't know who you are."

Nausea nearly overwhelmed Sam. What a fool she was, what a goddamn stupid fucking fool she was. She stood and calmly stuffed the bears back into her pockets. How she was doing it, how she was being so steady, she had no fucking idea. She did know that she would not let Susan get away with her domineering bullshit, all these slights about Sam's tomboyishness, hers and Allison's looks.

Sam walked out of the bedroom, refusing herself another look at her stepsister. Refusing her tears to fall. Why was Sam here, in this house? Why was she with a family she did not belong in? Her father was a basically decent man, but he did not include her. And forget about Susan including her. Allen was a sweet kid and the only reason for Sam to stay. The kid would be fine, though. He had his two moms and his dad.

Sam entered her nursery bedroom and grabbed as many bags and suitcases as she could. Susan would be thrilled. Her precious baby would not have to put up with Sam's crap. Sam packed quickly and lugged her shit downstairs.

"Where are you going?" Susan mouthed.

"Away from you," Sam signed. "Have fun with your diets and shit."

"I don't understand what you said." Susan mimicked writing with a paper and pen, and Sam shook her head. She was done catering to Her Evil Highness. Sam took a long look at her stepmother, long because she knew it would be her last look. She was done with this house. With this family. Susan was very, very pregnant. Easily looked nine months, and Sam had never touched Susan's stomach. Never felt the baby kicking.

If I leave, I'll never know the baby. The baby who would be the only person in the world with both her blood and Allison's. Tears overwhelmed Sam, and she turned to leave. Her stepmother, her father's wife, a woman who was supposed to love Sam, did not move to stop her.

Sam cried the entire way to Julia's and all that night.

PART TWO

Chapter Fifteen

ALMOST FOUR YEARS LATER

AUTUMN

Helen turned into Barry's driveway. The drive from the law firm in downtown Roanoke had been thirty minutes, but Helen had been unable to enjoy the view of trees bursting with color. Barry's request had weighed on her mind the whole drive. "Do it now," he had urged. "Do it now, while Allison's home alone. Please. Please."

With Barry, Helen had not made a secret of her background. She had not intended to tell anyone at work, but Barry had become like a best friend to her. Plus, the plenty of late-night bull sessions with Barry made the matter inevitable, and Helen told Barry about three years ago. When Barry approached her last month, she listened with a sympathetic, critical ear. Yes, she had told Barry, his stepdaughter possibly had a problem. She also possibly did not. Barry was despairing. He did not know what to do. Allison would not listen to him, and Susan did not want to admit something could be wrong. Barry said maybe Allison would listen to Helen. Helen politely declined, not because she did not like Allison, but because she barely knew Allison. They had chatted on several occasions, but only for a few minutes each at most. The young blonde was unquestionably endearing, sweet, smart, alluringly shy, and not to mention drop-dead gorgeous, albeit in a different fashion than her estranged stepsister.

But, bottom line, Helen Vierow barely knew Allison Albrecht. Helen had no intention of going to this twenty-two-year-old woman's house about a very personal matter. That was, until Barry came into the office this morning. "I found out last night that Allison was fired two months ago," Barry said. "Two months ago!" He told Helen the story and admitted that, yes, Allison had a new job at Starbucks but what if she screwed that up too? Her life was on track. He did not want to see her throw all she had worked for down the crapper. He had begged her to talk to Allison.

Helen, at last, agreed. And here she was.

Helen pressed her finger to the doorbell.

"Coming!" Allison's voice. Strong and clear. No slurring. The front door opened, and Helen looked into friendly green eyes. For a moment, Helen forgot the purpose of her visit.

"Helen?" Alarm crossed Allison's fair features. "You work with Barry, right?" Allison's gaze turned to Helen’s BMW.

"Yes." Helen smiled smoothly, concealing the fact she felt out of place. "Your stepfather wanted me to discuss something with you."

"Discuss something with me?" Allison moved closer to Helen, and Helen sucked in a breath. Why did Allison have to be so pretty? The curves of her hips and the swell of her breasts stood out from her tight jeans and cashmere sweater.

"May I come in?" Helen asked.

"What is this about?"

"Barry is worried."

Allison's gaze hardened. "I think I know why you're here."

"Yes, you probably do."

Allison scoffed, but she waved Helen in. "As long as you're here, you want some water? Tea, pop?"

"Water would be great."

They sat on the couch with two bottles of water. "So, how's college going?" Helen asked.

Allison unscrewed her bottle cap. "Not bad. I’m in a combined BA/MA program, so I’ll be graduating at the end of the spring semester. I start student teaching in January. I've been taking summer school, too. I don't know how you got through law school."

"I don't know how I did it either," Helen quipped. "Hang in there." She picked up a framed photo from a glass cocktail table. Globs of chocolate frosting smeared Beau's cheeks as he blew out the three candles on his cake. The boy had his father's jet-black hair and his mother's dark gray eyes. Beau was big for his age, tall, bulky and stocky.

"Beau's a cute boy," Helen mused. "He’ll be a heartbreaker when he grows up."

"Helen, look. Barry doesn't know what he's talking about."

"That's possible," Helen allowed.

"And you? Why would he send you, of all people?"

Helen smoothed a crease in her shirt. She did not want to talk about her past unless she absolutely had to. And, on the surface, Allison seemed fine. Books and papers were scattered on the ottoman. Allison had been doing schoolwork. No alcohol was on her breath. Her voice was clear. But this was not contradictory to the picture Barry had painted. She drinks a lot, thinks we don't notice. Passes out sometimes, claims she's fine, just fine, and won't listen to me, can sometimes go a week or two without having a drink. "I've been there," Helen said.

"You have?" Allison's question held a rasp of curiosity.

Helen decided there was no need to share more about herself. "Barry talks about you all the time," Helen said. "He holds you in high esteem, Allison. He's always talking about you, your 3.9 GPA in college, how you don't take anything for granted. He's proud of the fact you're working your way through college with little financial support from him. He thinks the world of you."

Allison's eyes glowed. "That's great to hear."

"He just wants to make sure you don't throw your life away. That you keep doing what you're supposed to do."

"I'm fine," Allison snapped. "I'm twenty-two. I'm allowed."

"He's worried. That's all. He said you got into trouble at work, got fired."

"He needs to stop nagging me. And sending you? Really?"

Helen laughed to cover up the unease inside her. Allison's gaze and her tones were bewildered. Confused. Defensive. Angry. Helen sipped from her water and moved her gaze to the photo of Sam on the fireplace mantel. Sam was an entirely different story and the subject of quite a few late-night ramblings from Barry. At least they had trended positive lately. Sam had been admitted to law school, and Barry had a good visit with her a few months ago.

Sam's leaving had bewildered the hell out of poor Barry. Helen had wrestled with herself many times about telling Barry what she knew about Allison and Sam, and Helen's suspicions about the real reason Sam left.

"Sam claims she's done with us," Barry had said. "She says she never felt part of the family and that we always left her out. Didn't she seem fine when she was with you?"

"Yes," Helen replied, and she replayed Sam's: Could I get your opinion on something?

Helen shook her head and got to her feet. Time to go. "Thank you for the water, Allison. I should be leaving."

"Helen?"

"Yeah?"

"Um, this is awkward, but I've been wondering. So has my mother." Allison's cheeks turned pink. "Are you and Barry...?"

Helen laughed out loud. "No." She flapped a dismissive hand. "Barry and I are friends and colleagues. Nothing more."

"I didn’t mean to imply—certainly, it’s none of my business."

"It’s all right," Helen said gently. "We do spend a lot of time together." Truth be told, Barry had hit on her once. Put his hand on her knee. She had firmly removed the hand and told him she was gay. In any case, Helen doubted Barry would have further pursued her. Barry was a man of obligation. He would never stray from his wife. True, Susan was not the shining creature he had used to think she was, but Barry and Susan were plodding along okay.

"I’m sure you have a boyfriend, anyway," Allison said.

"Nah. I had a serious romance back in Los Angeles, but nothing big since then. I'm enjoying the bachelorette life." Helen finished her water. "You're unattached yourself, aren't you?"

A very forced laugh came out of Allison's mouth. "Destined to be an old maid."

Helen sat back down. She took Allison’s hand in hers. "Allison, I'm a good listener. If you ever need to talk, about anything, give me a holler."

"Thank you. I will."

Helen squeezed Allison's hand. "Okay. You take care." She stood back up.

"What's your story? With the drinking?"

The question stopped Helen, and she gave Allison a thoughtful gaze. "You really want to hear my story?"

"I don't know. Do I?"

"How about this? I'll tell you my story if you tell me yours."

"What are you going to tell Barry?"

"What do you mean?"

"Your verdict." Allison gestured vaguely. "Your big verdict when you get back to work. What are you going to tell him?"

Helen came to a decision. She needed to socialize more, and from the looks of it, Allison did too. "I'm telling him you and I are having dinner soon."

Allison's brow rose. "We are?"

"Yep. And we can share our stories then. When are you free?"

*****

Allen kept monitoring his family in the bleachers. Usually his mother was occupied with Beau, and usually Barry was doing something on his phone. Sometimes Allison, her brilliant hair shining under the lights, laughed and chatted with the parents around her. Most of the time, though, she grinned and nodded encouragingly at him. And each time, Allen groaned inwardly. Embarrassing.

His sister who was actually his biological mother. Allen had told no one. It was too embarrassing. Two years ago, Al had asked him to start calling her "Mom."

"But what about Momma?" he asked.

"Keep calling her Momma. That's fine."

Allen had agreed. And he had tried. Too weird. He'd told her he could not. She had said "Okay," but her face got crumply and she went off. Probably to cry.

Allen thought often about his biological father. No one would tell him the guy's name. Allen had gone to Barry once. "What's my real dad's name?" Allen asked.

Barry's expression became dark. "I'm your dad, okay. Why don't you call me that anymore?"

Allen had mumbled his answer.

No matter. Allen knew his dad's name—Robert Joseph Kinner—and where he lived. Al had fallen asleep in her room once, at her laptop, with a vodka bottle at her side. She had been looking at the Arkansas sex offender registry, and at one particular entry that started like this:

Robert Joseph Kinner

Address: 6700 block of S. Main Street

Zip Code: 72703

Crime: Violation of a minor - second degree

Allen had clicked on a link to a picture, and wow! His father looked a lot like Al's father. Who was, Allen supposed, his biological grandfather.

So, yeah, Robert Joseph Kinner. That was his dad, and Allen wondered what he liked. Was he different from Barry? Probably.

Allen checked the bleachers again. His mother was plopping Beau into her lap. Beau, Beau. Allen did not like his brother. Beau was mean a lot, and their mother obviously favored Beau. Allen had become a second thought to her. He did his chores, cleaned his room, got good grades. And all Beau had to do to get gushing praise from Susan was smile or laugh.

Allen scowled. He never got on the court. He sucked. Bench warmer. He was short and skinny. Richie, his best friend, was lucky. Richie was tall and fast. He made most of his shots.

Sam was tall, too, and he missed her. But he hated her more than he missed her. She had just up and left one day without saying goodbye. She did not want to be part of the family anymore. Yes, he saw her once in a while. Like once or twice a year, when Barry would take him to visit her at school and sometimes at Julia's house for the holidays. Those times did not count, because Sam had changed. She did not really play around with him anymore or joke with him. Allen hated Sam. Allison, too, because she had made Sam leave. Allison had never said so, of course, but he knew deep down inside Allison was why Sam left. He hated them so much he said the "f" word when he was in bed.

Fuck you, Sam. Fuck you for leaving. Fuck you too, Al. You're not my mother.

*****

After the game, which Richie won for the team on a last-minute basket, Allen went home with Richie's family. Richie's family was okay, but they ignored Richie a lot, same as Allen's family ignored him.

"Got something to show you," Richie whispered in the car.

"Cool!" Allen could not wait to see what Richie had. Allen liked that Richie was a troublemaker. Richie was kind of like Sam in that way, and Allen felt, more than knew, that he was like Allison, a good kid who wanted to please Mom and do nothing wrong.

Twenty minutes later, Allen and Richie were in his room, and Richie extracted the surprise from under his pillow.

A gun.

A gun.

Allen stared. "It looks real."

"It is."

"No way."

Richie smiled smugly. "Guess how long I've had it."

"One day?"

"One month."

Allen shook his head. "You would've told me."

"Naw. I thought my dad would notice it was gone, but he hasn't so far."

"Wow." Richie's father was a gun collector. He had like a hundred guns, which he kept locked.

Richie aimed the gun at Allen.

"Hey!" Allen flung his hands up. "Don't."

Richie cackled. "Don't be a dweeb. It isn't loaded. Here, let me show you."

For the next ten minutes, Allen got to handle the gun and pretend like he was loading it.

"Who you wanna shoot?" Richie asked.

Allen's throat went dry. "No one."

"Aw, come on."

"No one," Allen said. "Really."

Chapter Sixteen

The next morning, Allison dressed slowly for work. She was pulling an all-day shift at the Valley View Starbucks, and she debated whether to have a quick drink or two before work. Okay. One. No drinking and driving, of course. No, she'd keep the liquor in her flask and down it quickly in her car, right before she entered the Starbucks. And, naturally, she would stuff a wad of gum into her mouth.

Allison went to her closet and was presented with another dilemma. Which alcohol? The pop was simple, a couple of two-liter containers of Diet Mountain Dew. The alcohol, not so simple. Allison had a nice big family, and its members were varying sizes. The mother lode was a 1.75-liter Bacardi Superior, and rounding out the family were Aristocrat Vodka, Jacquin's Peach Flavored Brandy, Tequila Oro Jose Cuervo Especial, Sergeant Classick, Gold Rum and Cachaca 51. Allison poured a shot of the mother lode and drank it quickly. She mixed Diet Mountain Dew and Aristocrat Vodka in two flasks.

She did not have a problem. No, she did not. Not yet.

She could see where possibly she was on the road to having a problem. But a problem she did not have. Heck, she was able to go a time without drinking. Last month, for example, she'd gone three weeks without a drink.

Yeah, two months ago, Mr. Dierksen had caught her drinking at work and fired her. What was wrong with a little nip here and there to make the monotony into, well, into not monotony? Nothing. That was what. Mr. Dierksen was a nice old guy, but he did not understand. He was mired in old ways of doing business. No one came into The Addict anymore. It had become a laughingstock.

Allison went back into the closet. She got on her knees. She shoved aside her shoes, various odds and ends and reached for the locked metal box in the back. She had opened it at least once a month since the Sam breakup. Allison ran her fingers over the cool metallic surface. She moved the combination lock until the bolt clicked and released. She opened the lid.

Her gaze fell upon the purple ring Sam gave to her that spring break, and memories threatened to overwhelm her. She sat against a closet wall and slid the ring onto her finger. It was a perfect fit, like she and Sam had been perfect for each other. Allison reached back into the box and felt for the note. She unfolded it; the paper was frayed at the edges from overuse. Allison reread Sam’s flowing blue handwriting. She had memorized the words before she’d gotten back from the beach, with the giddiness and excitement of first love, but Sam's words never failed to bring tears to her eyes.

Allison,

The past few months with you have been incredible. From the first moment I set eyes on you, I knew you were special. I think about you all the time: your smile, your hair, the way you look at me and interpret for me. I'm crazy about you. But if you just want to be friends, if you don't return my feelings, I hope I haven't screwed up too much. I'd love to be your friend.

Always, Sam

Allison had not had a conversation with Sam since the breakup, although she had seen Sam for a few minutes here and there. Four years, Sam. How can it have been four years since we had a freaking conversation? Allison would never forget a single detail of Sam's face, and her lips and body tingled in remembrance of Sam's burning touch.

Julia had confronted Allison a few days after the breakup.

"Sam doesn't know I'm here," Julia said, trapping Allison outside The Addict after a grueling shift. "She insisted that I not talk to you. But I had to see for myself."

Allison shrugged coolly. "There's nothing to it. We had fun for a while, but we're over now."

"She loves you. She's miserable without you. I had to drag her out of bed and back to her classes in D.C."

"Goodbye, Julia." Allison pushed her way past Sam's aunt.

Allison sighed and closed the box. Her tears were gone. "Yeah. It really is over."

Sam. Sam. Sam.

A knock sounded on the door. "Al? Momma says you need to get going."

"Okay, hon," Allison called to Allen. "Tell her I'm almost ready."

Allen was why Allison had started drinking. Somehow, astonishingly, she had resisted the siren call of alcohol in the days following the breakup. But when Allen told her he could not call her "Mom"—well, that had done it. Allison realized in that one instant she was not Allen's mother, would never be, and that she had thrown away a lovely romance with Sam for no reason whatsoever. Since then, Allison had sat at her desk many times to attempt reconciliation letters to Sam. She never got far. In most cases, the letters became more like diary entries than letters.

Allison plopped down on her bed. She did not want to go to work. Maybe she would see Julia. Allison was doing student teaching next semester and would have to quit work then. So, quitting now would not be a big deal.

Allison sighed and got to her feet. She would go to work. But maybe afterward, she would stop by Julia's. Then she would go to Helen's. They were having dinner tonight.

*****

Allison glanced at the neat white envelope on the passenger seat next to her. She had sealed the envelope with a sticker, ensuring that no postal employees or snoopers would read her private message for Sam. Doubts hit Allison as she turned onto Julia's street, but she kept going. Maybe Allison and Sam had no future together, but she could try to bring her stepsister home, to Barry and their little brother. Allison had written a seven-page novella, both front and back pages, that day during her various breaks at work. For most of the letter, she had rambled, putting off the necessary. She talked about how Barry and Allen missed Sam and how Beau would love to have his big sister. Finally, Allison could procrastinate no more. She took a deep breath and filled the remaining half-page with tense handwriting.

If I could do things all over again, I would never have broken up with you. We were so great together. We were perfect. I was eighteen years old and scared. My love for you scared me. I felt like there had to be a catch. I know I really screwed up, Sam. This letter doesn't even go halfway, but I really miss you. So do a lot of other people. Please, come back. At least for your father. He needs you.

Always,

Allison

Allison eased her car into Julia's driveway and tapped her brakes. Julia's truck was parked under the basketball hoop. There would be no escaping this.

"Allison?" The look on Julia's face when she answered the door was shock turning into suspicion. "What on earth are you doing here?"

"Hey." Allison fingered the envelope in her hands. "Can we talk? I won't be long."

Julia narrowed her eyes but motioned Allison inside the house.

Allison hung back a few inches, so that she was trailing Julia instead of walking next to her. Once again, Allison realized how beautiful Sam's aunt was. She carried her tall, slender frame with regality and grace.

Julia stopped abruptly in the living room, and Allison almost walked into her. "What do you want? I’m not about to play hostess and offer you a drink or a snack."

Allison extended the envelope. "For Sam." Her gaze darted around the room, avoiding Julia. "I'd appreciate it if you could mail this to her. Or if you wanted, you could give me her address."

Julia did not take the letter.

"I didn't write anything on the envelope. You know, 'cause I don't know her address, and I wasn't sure if I should put down my address as the return. Well, anyway. Thanks. I'll be going now."

"What in the hell are you doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"Seemingly without a care in the world, you waltz into my home with a letter for my niece four years after you crushed her heart. Odd, don't you think? Or just plain cruel?"

Allison's stomach lurched. She indicated a space between her hands. "I have about this high a pile of letters for Sam at home. I've written them over the past two years, but none are quite right. This one isn't either."

"What's your point?"

"I have to do something. We all miss Sam and need her back. Barry especially. And I love her. I always have."

Julia's face darkened with unreadable emotions. "I'm not sending this. Shred it, Allison, shred your pile, and move on. People make mistakes. You made a mistake. It's time to move on."

"She needs to know."

"Barry has her address. Why aren't you getting it from him? Why are you here?"

"You know Sam better than anyone does."

"So?"

"I thought we could talk. Julia, I really am sorry. I am."

Julia shook her head and ground her lips together. "I'll send the letter. But Sam probably won't read it. She'll burn it or tear it, and then chew me out for letting you into the house."

"I'm surprised she's kept quiet," Allison murmured. "That she hasn't told Barry—or told you to tell him—that we were together. Or that she's gay."

"It's not that surprising. She's punishing him by demanding that he stay in the dark, wondering all those years just what exactly is going on. She's punishing you too. She thinks you don't have the guts to stand up to your mother, or to Barry, to tell them about you and Sam, or that you're gay. She's not about to do it for you and give you an easy way out."

"Makes sense."

"You gonna come out, Allison?"

Allison's first impulse was to say: But I'm not gay. She stopped herself. She was gay, hell yes. She hated the prospect of disappointing her mother, but Allison was coming to realize that her life was her own. If Susan was disappointed, it would have to be Susan's problem. For example, Allison wanted Allen to be happy, and if he was happier with Susan as his mother, so be it. It was up to Allison to deal with that. Wasn't up to Allen, nor would she expect him to conform his happiness to her desires.

"Soon," Allison mumbled. "I'm coming out soon."

"You need to get out of that house."

"Allen's there. My son is there. He's part of me. I can't leave him."

Julia's gaze turned wistful. "Sometimes I regret not having children. Did Sam tell you why Gerald and I didn't have kids?"

"Your philosophy was that the world was so screwed up, why bring a kid into it, right?"

"Yep. Plus, Sam was always like a child to us. But..." More wistfulness. "I made the same mistake you're making. I wanted kids, deep down inside, but I acted for other people and not for myself. You gotta act for yourself, Allison. You gotta be true to yourself."

"You could adopt an older child."

Julia grinned widely. "Actually, Gerald and I have been talking about it. I think we will."

*****

Helen checked her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She caught a speck of smudged lipstick on her cheek and wiped the blemish away with a tissue. All set. Hair's perfect, makeup's perfect. For good measure, Helen sprayed cinnamon-flavored mist into her mouth. Her next stop was the living room, and Helen dimmed the lamp a notch. She wanted to impress Allison and make her feel at home. Helen had not been this giddy, this nervous, in some time, and it was nice for a change to focus on something other than work. Yes, true, getting with someone who drank was not the best idea, but Allison was lonely, and so was Helen. There was just something about Allison, and this was nothing but a friendly dinner, anyway. Helen's giddy feelings would go nowhere.

The doorbell sounded, and Helen went to usher Allison in. "Ta-da! My castle."

"Very nice." Allison whistled appreciatively.

"Ruff!"

Helen got on her knees and mussed her beagle mix puppy's head. "Allison, this is my new puppy, Cat."

Allison joined Helen on the floor. "Cat?"

"Yep, meet Cat. You want to hear the long version or the short version?"

"The long one. I love stories."

"I've always been a cat person," Helen said. "Never had dogs, never cared to own one. Cats were for me. They could take care of themselves, while being just playful and affectionate enough. In my opinion, dogs were dumbly blind and loyal, too eager to please." Helen observed a small glower on Allison’s face and smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry. I can see you're a dog person. Well, I've been living in this place since I moved from L.A. I brought my cat Ruffles with me. Now, Ruffles hated dogs more than I did. She hissed her head off at any dog that crossed our path. Anyway, she died last year of old age."

"Mmmmuff!" Cat rubbed his wet, black nose into Helen's cheek.

"About two months ago, the secretary, Mary Jane, found a box of puppies on the side of the highway. They were only a few weeks old. They'd been abandoned by their owner."

"Oh, no," Allison whispered. "That's so cruel."

Helen nodded. "There were five puppies altogether. Four got picked up quickly, but one, the runt of the litter, was left. No one wanted him. He was so cute, so small. His ribs were sticking out, and he was starved. It's more like he adopted me. He moseyed right up to me with his big brown eyes. So, I thought, why not give him a try? Cat's been here ever since."

"That's a great ending. That's why you named him Cat, so technically, you wouldn't have a dog?"

"Exactly. Lawyers find those loopholes." Helen stood and helped Allison up. "I usually don't make my guests sit on the floor. Can I get you something to drink?"

"I'm famished." Allison smiled sheepishly. "Chinese okay?"

*****

While they waited for the deliveryman, Helen gave Allison the grand tour of her condo. Helen knew her place could have sprung directly from the pages of a fashion magazine. It had cathedral ceilings, two spacious, airy bedrooms with gorgeous views of downtown, one-and-a-half bathrooms with an oversized marble jacuzzi in one, and a grand living room. Helen shrugged in self-explanation as she led Allison back into the living room. "When you're single, who else do you have to spend your money on?"

"True. So, who are they?" Allison pointed to a group of framed photographs on a table. "Your family? You must miss them, L.A. being so far."

"No, actually." Helen grinned. "I grew up here. Most of my family's here. I went to college and law school in California, stayed there for a while to work. But I missed the East Coast, the change of the seasons. I'm sure you feel the same about Arkansas."

Allison snorted. "I don't miss Arkansas. Too hot, too far out in the sticks. Mosquitoes everywhere. Nothing to do there, either. But I know what you mean. This area is home to me." Allison selected a photo of Helen's parents: a black woman in a flowing wedding gown and a beaming, petite Japanese man. "Your parents?"

Helen nodded.

"Looks like a lovely wedding." Allison replaced the photo and scanned the others. "Brothers and sisters?"

"Nah. Only child. Those are friends, cousins."

"So you returned here because you missed the change of seasons?"

"Not exactly." Helen’s stomach knotted. "Joanne's the main reason I came back home. We broke up because of my...because of my drinking. I went into rehab in California. I came out okay, but I needed a fresh start."

Allison displayed a shaky smile. "You're gay?"

"Mmm. Yep."

"Everything okay with Joanne now?"

"We don't talk anymore. She was right to break up with me. I needed the wake-up call."

The doorbell buzzed, and Allison perked in relief. "Food's here!"

Helen went to the door, took the food and paid the deliveryman. Five minutes later, Helen and Allison were digging into cashew chicken and lo mein. "You're just like Cat," Helen noted. The puppy was panting under the table, begging for food.

"I love to eat," Allison explained. "I could eat and eat forever. We have nothing but healthy stuff at home."

"We should have a pig-out fest sometime. Candy, chips, pizza, cookies. Watch movies all night. Been a long time since I had one of those. Law school, probably." Helen swirled a forkful of noodles into her mouth, but every nerve in her body was on pinpricks. So much for not getting with someone who drank. Helen liked being around Allison. Her smile was...well, it was the best smile Helen had seen, and she could not resist Allison.

If Allison said yes...

Please. Let her say yes.

Allison could not meet Helen’s gaze for a moment, but she finally did, shyly. "That sounds great. I'm fine, you know. With my drinking. I'm fine. I really am."

Helen allowed herself a grin. Allison had been practically reading her mind, more evidence they were in sync with each other.

*****

After dinner, Allison and Helen sat on the couch, their legs lightly brushing. Helen told Allison her story, which went like this: Drank a lot in college and law school. Got good grades—obviously, if she was able to get into law school. Continued drinking after graduating from law school. Ignored Joanne when she said Helen had a problem. So Joanne videotaped Helen drunk on several occasions. Helen continued to outwardly deny she had a problem, but she admitted it to herself. Then Joanne broke up with her. A year later, Helen at last checked herself into rehab. After rehab, she stayed in Los Angeles but knew she would need to overhaul her life if she was serious about being sober.

So she went home.

"Not the most interesting story," Helen admitted. "But I went, what, like eight or nine years drinking a lot, abusing alcohol, and being able to function decently before I got help."

"Wow. Do you go to AA meetings?"

"I'm not really into the whole AA thing, but I have what you'd call a sponsor. I call him when I'm tempted to drink."

"So you're still tempted?"

Helen laughed. "Yes. And sometimes I tell myself I could handle a drink or two. And I probably could. But why risk it for momentary gratification?"

"How old are you?"

"I'm thirty-three. So, your turn. Your story."

"You sure I'm not bothering you?" Allison asked. "You must have more important things to deal with than my problems."

Helen frowned. "This is what I want to do."

"Thank you."

"And whatever you tell me is in confidence. I will not tell Barry."

Allison sighed. "I can't shake this feeling of doom. I don't know. Hey, shut me up, okay? This is supposed to be a fun night."

Helen took Allison’s hands in hers. "Talk to me."

Allison allowed the comforting touch to remain. Helen was warm, soothing, receptive. Allison needed to talk. Very much so. Guilt and worry had been gnawing at her spirit for almost four years, and she felt like a shell of her former self. Allison fiddled with a thin silver bracelet that graced Helen's wrist. "That's so beautiful. You're beautiful."

Helen smiled. "So are you. Hey. What is it?" She cupped Allison's chin in her hand and forced Allison to meet her eyes. "Sam, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Allison whispered.

Helen's dark eyes turned more intense. "You two had a relationship. It didn't work out. It happens."

"How do you know Sam and I were together?"

Helen sighed. "She told me that day she left. Remember she was at the law firm. She asked me what I thought Barry's reaction would be if he found out the two of you were together."

Sam told Helen. Allison was not sure what to make of the news. She got up and went to a window. Lights twinkled below her. This condo was nice. Very nice. "I have a son." Allison turned to Helen. "Did you know?"

Helen's eyes were wide. "No. Where's your son?"

Allison forced a smile to her lips. "He's Allen. Momma's boyfriend raped me when I was twelve. I got pregnant and had a baby. I couldn't...I couldn't imagine raising him. I was in no shape to be a mother. I wanted an abortion, actually. I thought if I had one, maybe things could be okay again. But Momma didn't let me have the abortion."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I'm not. What happened brought Allen into my life, and I love him with all my heart. I'm still ashamed of him, though. No, not of him. Of me. Of what happened. I'm ashamed of how I used to behave, because I want to be his mother now, and he doesn't want me to be. I'm his sister, and that's all I will be to him. I should have been his mother in name all along."

"Have you gone to counseling?"

"Yes. Let's not talk about this anymore."

"You haven't gotten to your drinking story. How you got started."

Allison gazed out the window again. "Allen has always known I'm his biological mother, but Momma was his mother. She was the boss, the one he called 'Momma.' About two years ago, I asked him to start calling me 'Mom' too. He tried but couldn't. That was the straw that pushed me over. It broke my heart. But I don't have a problem. I drink once in a while to take the edge off, so what?"

"That's not exactly what Barry says."

"He doesn't know shit! I went three weeks last month without a drink! I could stop now if I wanted, but why would I stop? I don't have a problem."

"Two years ago, you were twenty. How did you get the alcohol?"

Allison snorted. "I had a boyfriend named Darryl. He was twenty-five. I stayed with him longer than I should have just so he could keep buying me alcohol."

Helen came up to her. Put her arms around Allison, and Allison let herself sink into Helen. Helen smelled good, and every nerve in Allison’s body was on pinpricks. She liked this. She liked being with a woman again, liked being in the arms of a woman again. And Helen was damn wonderful.

"Call me," Helen said. "Anytime you need to talk. Just call me."

"You're not going to lecture me about having a drinking problem?"

"No. You're giving yourself enough grief already. Let's pop in a movie."

*****

Two movies later, the scene in Helen's living room was nothing but revelry. DVD covers littered the entertainment center, and a comedy blared on the television screen.

Helen and Allison sat at the foot of the couch. "Come on!" Allison shouted. "No pain, no gain." She leaned back, opened her mouth and awaited Helen's popcorn toss.

Helen was off target again. "Damn it!" she swore. "Why do you keep insisting I make a fool out of myself?"

"There's plenty of popcorn left. Try one more time."

Helen reached into the popcorn bag. "Let's try this way." She leaned across Allison's leg and fed the pieces to Allison one by one. Allison sucked on the popcorn, and then on Helen's long, slim fingers. Allison felt like she was betraying Sam. Because she was betraying Sam. She hadn’t wanted to break up with her stepsister in the first place. Why had Allison let her go? So many questions, so many what-ifs. Helen was not Sam, but it was time to move on.

Helen scooted up and ran her fingers through Allison's hair. "You're beautiful. Inside and out," Helen murmured.

Allison brushed her lips against Helen's. Her pulse pounded. She could scarcely believe what she was doing. She, Allison, was kissing Helen. And, just as when she and Sam kissed for the first time, Allison’s toes curled, and a delicious warmth spread between her legs.

Sex. Allison missed sex very much. She'd not had it since Sam. She had dated a few guys but, well, nothing had changed. Allison did not want sex with guys, period.

Allison had a burning desire, an aching need, for sex. Right now. For an orgasm, to be with a woman again in all ways. She showered kisses around Helen's lips and along her jaw, and then somehow, thank goodness, they were in Helen's bedroom, Allison was taking off Helen's clothes, and Helen was tearing Allison's off. They became flesh against flesh, woman against woman, and Helen kissed Allison's nipples, rousing a melting sweetness from her. Helen was a good, masterful lover. Different from Sam. Sam had been teasing, eager. Passionate, too. So was Helen, but...hard to explain. Stop thinking about Sam. Allison grabbed Helen's hand and guided a few fingers up her pussy. "Hard," Allison breathed. "Hard, please."

Chapter Seventeen

Barry whistled and swiveled around in his chair. He stood and let the panoramic view of downtown Roanoke wash over him. The gloomy, overcast Monday morning and the steady drizzle of rain did not dampen his mood. Things were better with Susan. She had left her job at the law firm long ago, before she became pregnant. Afterward, her spending had spiraled out of control, and he had taken away her credit cards. Now she had found a part-time job as a receptionist at a construction firm. Her spending was under control. She had brought a bouquet of roses to the firm yesterday, roses purchased with her own money, and surprised him with a strip tease show right there in the office. He found her body beautiful and wished she did. She had not lost her pregnancy weight, had only added to it as a matter of fact, but he did not care.

Barry stuck his hands in his pockets and stared dreamily out the window. Life could be rough, but in the end, the roughness would give way to smoothness. He was beyond thrilled to be back on track with Susan. The fact was that their honeymoon had lasted, what, six months? If that long. Barry had been about to announce his desire for a divorce when Susan blurted out the "wonderful" news that she was pregnant. She had not even let him set foot in the house, instead corralling him in the garage. It was like she anticipated his request for a divorce.

Barry said nothing at first. Just looked at her, shocked. "We agreed not to have children. You're taking birth control pills."

"Does it matter? I'm pregnant! A baby is a miracle. Wouldn't you want a son? The obstetrician is so nice! He graduated from UPenn and has a son around Allison's age. I'll try to set them up."

"Susan." Barry's voice remained flat. "Have you been taking your pills?"

She stared at him, doe-eyed. "Of course, Beauie! I'm as surprised as you are! But on the way home, I thought about everything. A baby! We're having a baby!"

"Have you been taking your pills?"

"Yes!" Susan’s pupils dilated. "Yes. I have been taking my birth control pills."

"Whatever you say, Susie." Barry promptly climbed back into the car he had left only moments ago. He drove back to the law office and worked all night.

But now, Barry had his wonderful, handsome, beautiful, lovely son, and he loved Beau to death. Beau, except for his gray eyes and brawnier frame, could have passed for Lucas. However, Lucas had been a playful and mischievous boy, while Beau tended to be more of a bully. Barry resolved to buy his son a football after work. No time like the present to start throwing the pigskin around. With Beau's size, he'd be a football star, just like his dad in high school.

And Sam was coming around. She had gotten into Columbia Law. Good for her. He and Susan had a surprise for Sam. They had enrolled in a sign language class, and Barry wanted the both of them to go to New York and see Sam soon. They would converse with her without the need for paper and pen. Barry wanted his daughter back in the family. Period.

He decided to play a bit with his wife. He sat in his executive wing chair, propped his feet up, picked up the phone. After a few rings, the line connected.

"Hello there, handsome." The voice was feminine, familiar and sexy. "You've reached the Hot Wet Line. What is your preference, blonde, redhead or brunette? We have a special today on redheads."

"I'd like a redhead, please."

"Certainly." The voice purred again. "Billie and Candy are here."

"Isn't my usual on duty? I believe Susan is supposed to be there."

Susan's laughter floated up from her throat. "I love you, Beauregard."

Knock knock knock.

"Hey, I gotta go." Barry hung up and called: "Come in!"

The visitor was Helen. "Hey, Barry. Is the Roosevelts' paperwork done?"

"Yep." Barry found the stack Helen needed. He had been meaning to ask her about her dinner with Allison. Allison had come home in the morning, looking sheepish. She explained that she and Helen had lost track of time, so Allison had stayed over. "How did dinner Friday night with Allison go? She said she had fun."

Helen smiled. "It went great."

"So." Barry fixed Helen with a stare. "Does she have a drinking problem?"

"I tell you what. I will keep an eye on her."

*****

About two weeks later at three p.m., Allison was finishing an abbreviated shift and thinking about Helen. Helen, Helen, Helen had been a familiar theme in Allison's mind since she and Helen had sex. Allison had stayed over, and they'd gone for another roll in the morning.

But neither one had called since then. Allison had no idea what Helen's reasons for not calling were, but Allison had been nervous. Unsure. Engulfed and scared and uplifted by the possibility of falling in love again.

Anyway, Allison was horny. Beyond horny, had been since the encounter. Encounters, plural. And yeah, lonely, too. Helen was in the same boat. What was the harm in...

Three p.m. Helen would be at work. I'll go see her. No matter if they would not be able to do anything physical. Allison desperately needed to see Helen's beautiful face, get a smile from her, something. Allison devised a plan. The mall was a minute away, and Allison drove there. She bought a bath set from Bath and Body Works and a gift bag for the set.

She entered the law firm and smiled at the receptionist, Mary Jane. She came to all of Susan's parties and knew Allison by sight. "Allison! Hello. What brings you here?"

Allison glanced around the lobby. Nice place. Very nice, plush. She'd never been here. "I'm dropping something off for Barry."

"Go on back. Third door on the right. I'll tell him you're here."

"Thanks."

The doors had nameplates, and apparently Helen's office was not on the way to Barry's. Barry's door was half open, and he was waiting for Allison. "Hey, sweetie." Barry crushed Allison to his chest. "What's this?"

Allison drew out the bath set. "Momma's been talking about this new scent. I saw this and figured you could give it to her. No need to credit me." Susan had been talking about no such thing, but she would love the gesture from Barry.

Barry grinned. "You're sweet. Thanks."

"Well." Allison gave Barry a smile. "I'll let you get back to work."

"Let me show you around."

"No, that's okay." Allison wanted to see Helen now, not suffer through an hour's worth of meets and greets. "Oh, wait. I guess I should say hi to Helen."

"Oh, yeah." Barry jerked his head. "Come on."

Helen's office was down the hall, in a corner. Her door was open, and she was at her desk, frowning into a thick book. Her office was on the small side, maybe half the size of Barry's.

Barry rapped on the door. "Hey, Helen. Look who's here."

Helen glanced up. "Allison." No mistaking the light in Helen's eyes, her wide, genuine grin. "Well, hey. Come in."

Barry and Allison entered the office, and Barry proudly displayed the bath set. "See what a sweet kid I have? She bought this for me to give to Susan."

"Wow. Sweet, for sure. Hey, Barry. Mind if I borrow Allison for a few minutes?"

"Not a problem." Barry glanced at his watch. "See you in ten for the meeting." He squeezed Allison's shoulder. "Thanks again."

Helen went to the door, closed it. Locked it. She turned to Allison, and a sly smile, a shy smile too, graced her lips. "Sorry I haven't called," Helen said. "I've been..." She shrugged. "I don't know."

"Me too," Allison whispered, and she went to Helen, drew Helen to her. Their tongues met in a desperate kiss, and Helen said: "Stupid meeting. Five-thirty, okay? Meet me at my place at five-thirty."

*****

They had sex that night, lots and lots of sex, sweet, tender and affectionate sex. Helen was a slim woman, but she was strong. Very strong. She was capable of holding Allison up to fuck her against a wall with a dildo. Sam and Allison had not used sex toys, and Helen showed Allison lots of toys, most of which Allison had no idea existed.

At first, she did not like the idea of a dildo inside her. What if it felt like Bob was inside her again? But Allison let Helen try, and the dildo was nothing like Bob, because Helen was with the dildo. Helen cared. Helen was good.

So, they played a lot with the toys, too. Allison adored every minute. Helen Vierow was someone she could fall in love with, easily.

*****

Allison was enjoying this Christmas season and getting to know Helen better. They were at Helen's place, and multicolored Christmas lights blinked merrily on the fir tree in the corner of the living room. Cat napped in front of the roaring fireplace. Not a fireplace with a chimney, of course, but a fake fireplace that looked pretty damn genuine. Allison and Helen were snuggling on the couch and sharing hot chocolate. Soft Christmas music floated in the air, and a music box figurine waltzed across the glass surface of a ceramic frozen pond. Presents abounded under the tree. For the past minute or so, Allison had been trying to figure out which gifts were hers, but Helen would not budge. She would only say that the big present was not under the tree.

Helen nuzzled Allison's ear and kissed the lobe. "My parents are coming over for Christmas Eve. I'd like for you to meet them. We can have dinner and open presents."

"I'd love to meet your parents. But can't I open just one present tonight? Please? With a cherry on top?"

"You have to wait. Only three more days."

"You'll have to keep me busy, then. Help keep my mind off the big surprise." Allison waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Any ideas?" She ran a finger down the inside of Helen's thigh, and her hand disappeared under Helen's pajama shirt.

"You're going in the right direction. You might be able to squeeze that information out of me in the, ahem, negotiation chambers."

Allison climbed on top of Helen. "I object! Badgering the witness."

Helen narrowed her eyes. "Overruled. I hold you in contempt. I'd like to see you in chambers."

"Let’s stay right here in the courtroom." Allison bit Helen's lip and sucked softly. Helen found a button on Allison’s shirt, and then another. With quick ease, Allison’s top and bra were undone, and Helen took one of Allison's breasts in her mouth.

"Oh, God." Allison trembled under Helen’s expert tongue.

Helen raised an amused eyebrow. "You like?"

"I want you, Helen. I want you."

Helen pulled her own top off. Allison loved Helen's breasts: wonderful, perfect breasts, just the right size, with erect, dark nipples.

And then, suddenly, there was Bob, sneering at her as only he could, his eyes full of unquenchable lust. And there was Sam, pleading with her not to break up.

Helen frowned. "Allison? What's wrong? Where are you?"

Allison kissed Helen fiercely. "I'm fine. Just fine."

*****

Christmas Eve arrived, and Allison could hardly wait to go over to Helen's. At three o'clock, she finished work and jumped into the Lumina. She had invented various friends and events to satisfy Susan's questions about what she was doing, and she did not feel the least bit guilty. She could not remember the last time she was so carefree. Moreover, Allison had not touched a drop of liquor since the first time she had sex with Helen. See: no alcohol problem. Yes, things would work out.

Allison greeted her girlfriend with a long lip-lock, and they moved over to the couch. Allison lay on her back, and Helen mounted her. Helen slid her hands under Allison’s white knit sweater and bra. Her long fingers massaged Allison's taut nipples. Allison arched her back in pleasure but had to stop Helen. "Honey, your parents are going to be here any time."

"Don't worry about it. They’re always late."

In the next moment, though, a crash and then a bang sounded. Allison jerked her head back just in time to see the front door fly open. A compact Japanese man with silvering black hair and a spring in his step strode into the living room. He deposited bagfuls of presents under the Christmas tree and grinned at Allison and Helen. A big-boned black woman, slightly taller than Helen, followed with several dishes of food. "You look like teenagers caught on Mama's couch! Come here, little one—" she pointed at Allison "—and let me have at you."

Helen scowled. "Guys! Why didn't you knock?"

Helen's father chuckled. "The door was unlocked. Now, Helen, you introduce us and put the food in the kitchen. Mama and I, we get acquainted with this lovely girl who captured your heart."

Helen nodded in chagrin and indicated Allison. "This is Allison." She motioned to her parents. "My mother, Sandra. My father, Kabuo. Please be good, guys." Helen retreated to the kitchen, all the while casting sympathetic glances at Allison.

Sandra plopped down next to Allison. "You're a cute one. But does my daughter not feed you? You're a skinny thing; we need to put some meat on those bones of yours."

Kabuo sandwiched Allison between himself and his wife. "Allison, what are your intentions?"

"Kabuo! We don't want to scare this one off. Don't pressure her." Sandra squeezed Allison's hand and interlocked their fingers. "Now, do you want children?"

"Yes, definitely."

Sandra threw her hands up. "I have hope after all!"

Kabuo imitated his wife. "Don't pressure her? What do you call this?" He shouted for Helen to join them.

Sandra seized Helen’s arm and forced her down on the couch. "Helen, this girl has some sense. Listen to her." Sandra turned to Allison. "We're going to have so much fun tonight! Let me tell you a story from when Helen was a child. Kabuo brought some slides too. Helen, where's that slide projector Dad and I got you for Christmas last year? Get it out. That's something to do while the turkey's in the oven. You did remember a tofurkey for me? I can't eat that turkey meat. No siree, only tofu for me!" Sandra settled back into the couch. "Ooh, those cushions are so comfortable! I keep telling your father we should steal your furniture. There's so many stories I can tell. Allison, did you know Helen was the Dogwood Festival Queen? She entered on a dare."

"I didn't know that, Mrs. Vierow."

Sandra cocked her head and harrumphed. "Mrs. Vierow. What am I, old? Tsk. Call me Mama! Any girlfriend of my daughter's is family. Not that she has had any lately. I'm never going to be a grandmother at this rate." She glared at Helen. "You going to make a honest woman of this one? I like her. She's cute!" Sandra got to her feet and held out a hand to Allison. "Darling, let's go in the kitchen and scare up some goodies. We gotta fatten you up. You're just a toothpick! No more birdseed for you."

Allison grinned. She had taken an instant liking to this woman, although her chances of getting a word in with Sandra were probably next to nil. Sandra was warm, friendly, funny—so different from Allison's own mother.

*****

"They're a handful." Allison hugged Helen after Kabuo and Sandra left. "They're wonderful. You're lucky."

Helen laughed richly. "What did I tell ya, baby? They love you. Oh, God, they really do. My mama's probably going to start a fan club in your honor. She's never seen anyone eat that much."

"I gotta remember to start locking the door, though."

Helen shook her head, and a blush filled her cheeks. "That was embarrassing!"

"That was sweet of them to get me presents." Allison fingered her new bath and body set and the racy piece of red lingerie.

"I have the best parents in the world. The best girlfriend, too."

"Do you really like what I got you?" Allison asked apprehensively. She had worked overtime and cut a few classes to afford the diamond bracelet for Helen, who was, of course, worth every cent. But Helen had gotten Allison two times as much, plus the yet-to-come surprise.

"I love it, baby." Helen's dark eyes twinkled. "You could give me a plastic bag, and I'd worship it. Okay, ready for your surprise?" Helen reached into her purse and extracted a small box covered in silvery wrapping paper.

Allison drew in a sharp breath. The box looked suspiciously like a ring case.

"I'll let you tear this open in a minute. I need to say a few things first."

The walls of the condo closed in on Allison. Helen was going to ask Allison to marry her. Marry her, after a couple of short months together. She's going to! No, she isn't! It's too soon. Probably just a pair of nice earrings or...but what if she is? Hell, we haven't said we love each other!

Helen kissed the tip of Allison's nose. "You make me feel whole again. I cherish every moment we spend together, even if that means I gain a few pounds. I want you to know that. I hope you enjoy this gift. I better just shut up and let you open it, huh?" She handed the box to Allison. "I love you, Allison," Helen said quietly.

Tears sprang to Allison's eyes, and she embraced Helen. "I love you too," Allison whispered. Yes. It's a ring. Helen's asking me to marry her. With shaky hands, Allison unwrapped her gift. Before she saw what was inside, she blurted out: "Oh, it's beautiful!"

A gleaming silver key lay amid cottony packaging.

Helen laughed. "That key isn't for looks, baby. It's for the condo. My home is your home. Let yourself in anytime."

"Wow. Wow." Allison stared at the key. Helen was serious about her. This relationship was for real. "Hey, uh, Helen?" Allison had to admit something Sandra said was bothering her. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"Your mother implied you don't want children."

Helen made an annoyed sound. "I've always said I don't feel the need to have children. But I love you, and you want children." Helen flashed a wide, genuine smile. "So, that's all there is to it."

Helen's response did not ease Allison's apprehension. She did not want force anyone into parenthood. Heck, she herself had been forced into it, and Barry had kind of been forced into it with Beau.

This is different. Helen is different. Why are we talking about kids, anyway? We barely just started dating. Yeah, and you have a key to her place.

Allison remembered the three children she was supposed to have with Sam, the first a boy with black hair and green eyes. Sam had suggested the name Brian for him. The memory caused Allison to cringe inwardly. She and Sam had really been immature. Romantics, yes, but immature.

Nevertheless, Allison felt a pang for Brian, a child who would never be.

*****

The rest of the winter holidays dragged by, especially after Christmas Eve. Allison and Helen made love for hours. Allison would never recover after experiencing the sensations of Helen's skilled tongue and nimble fingers inside her.

The highlights of the holidays were seeing Helen and having no classes. Helen took longer lunch breaks to visit Allison at Starbucks, and Allison contrived lie after lie to explain the increasing amounts of time she spent away from home. Sam’s ghost retreated. Being with Helen was so easy. The lawyer was secure, wealthy, mature, intelligent, gorgeous, a tremendous lover, with great parents. Allison easily envisioned herself having a prosperous future with Helen. This was what a real relationship felt like, what true love felt like. The extra flood of emotions Allison had felt during her relationship with Sam was simple teenage immaturity, teenage hormones. Allison squirmed thinking about how childish she had been with Sam.

Allison began to think that maybe Helen, not Sam, was the love of her life.

Chapter Eighteen

Barry's briefcase landed on the hardwood floor in his office with a dull thud. The Jacksons's settlement meeting had not gone well, and he had wasted the past three hours of his life. He had a phone call to make, and he had put it off long enough. He picked up the phone. After a few rings, the line connected.

"Barry?" Julia answered. "Is that you?"

"Yep." Barry's relationship with his former sister-in-law since Sam left had been shaky. Julia was the only family member Sam regularly kept in touch with. Barry had been angry at Julia for not telling Sam to come home. Julia had said she would not be a middleman, period.

Barry heaved a breath. "I missed Sam so much on Christmas morning. Like every Christmas, holiday, anniversaries, her birthday, whenever I watch Beau grow."

"I can imagine."

"Susan and I have been enrolled in a sign language class. We want to fly up soon and surprise Sam."

"A class?"

"Yep."

"Sam would like that," Julia said, but her voice left room for doubt. "How's everybody else doing?"

"Susan's doing okay, but she got this dumb cat named Priscilla. Beau’s a natural with the football. Allison is doing great. I'm proud of her. Oh, and between you and me, I believe she has herself a new boyfriend. She's almost never home, and she has this glow. It’s scary." Barry chuckled. "Allen's pretty good too. He asked about Sam the other day. He misses her."

"Sounds like everyone's happy."

"When would be a good time to visit her?"

"You have her email address, Barry. Email her and ask."

Barry stared at the ceiling. "She might say no. You know she and Susan never got along. This needs to be a surprise."

"Maybe you should go without Susan."

"Hey! I'll take Beau. He doesn't know Sam, can you believe that? He doesn't know his own sister."

"Does Beau know sign?"

"I'll teach him."

"Sounds good, you and Beau. Email her and ask when's good for her, okay?"

"Sure. Thanks." Barry hesitated a moment. "I can't thank you enough for watching over our little girl. I know I screwed up. Sam's right. She was never fully part of the family. Anyway. I gotta go. Goodbye, Jul. Talk with you soon." Barry set the phone down softly. He was afraid, deathly afraid, that his daughter was lost to him forever, that she would never again be more than a superficial presence in his life, someone he saw no more than one or two times a year. And it was his fault. He had no one to blame but himself. He should have kept up his sign skills. Should have insisted from the beginning that Susan learn sign language. He had been in love, blindly in love.

*****

Candles cast a surreal glow on the walls. Allison and Helen were bathing each other at a leisurely pace in the laywer's Jacuzzi. Helen was sitting behind Allison and stroking the damp curls of her pussy.

"Do you still love Sam?" Helen asked.

Allison blinked at the unexpected question. "I love you, not Sam." The lie came much easier than Allison expected.

"And Sam. You love Sam, too."

"Maybe." Allison admitted the truth in a little voice. "But Sam's gone. She and I are over for good. I love being with you, Helen. I love you. I'm so happy with you. Please believe me."

"I believe you."

"I'm bringing a lot of baggage into this relationship."

"Like I'm not. Look, I love you no matter what. Okay? We'll get through it. But what are you going to do about Barry? He is Sam's father. He loves her, he's hurting, and he deserves to know the truth about why Sam really left. Sometimes I walk by his office. He keeps the door open, and there's a picture of Sam on his desk. I often catch him studying that picture with this sad, amazingly sad, expression. You're going to have to tell him. Not just about Sam, but about you and me, too."

"I figured I would have to tell him about us," Allison said with a chuckle. "Considering how I'm moving in with you." Last week, Helen had asked Allison to move in.

Helen gave Allison a fluttery kiss. "I’ve thought about nothing else than having you here."

"I'll miss living with Allen, but it's time for me to let go."

"I think you're right."

Allison sighed. "Telling Barry why Sam left. I don't know. Shouldn't it be up to Sam to tell him?"

"Allison."

Switch topics. "It'll be great sleeping with you every night and waking up in your arms in the mornings. However, I do insist on paying my share. I know you offered, but I'd feel like I was taking advantage of your kindness."

Helen kissed Allison's neck and found her sweet spot, causing Allison's hips to arch. "We'll discuss it later, hon."

After the bath, Allison surveyed the condo. She had been right to say yes to moving in. Why shouldn't she move in? The condo was a great place, and Helen had made it clear that Allen was welcome to visit anytime.

Allison wandered into the guest bedroom. Helen had said it could be Allen's room, and Allison had decorated it in her mind. However, she would wait and let Allen do it. He would have no shortage of suggestions from her.

Warmth filled Allison's body. Life was good. At long last, life was good. She had stopped drinking and had come to terms with the fact she was not Allen's mother.

Allison hoped Sam was happy, too.

Chapter Nineteen

Sam had a job interview today. Not a real-real interview. For one thing, the job interview was many states over from New York. She had supplied a fake name. And her resume was bogus. Her qualifications were basically bogus. She knew just enough to bullshit her way into an interview, thanks to her dad teaching her to fix cars. Getting an interview had been easy. After all, no one wanted to live in Bumfuck, Arkansas.

Sam hated that she was here, and she hated even more that she had no freaking idea why she was here. Strike that. She knew. No shitty closure. Hung up on Allison, never mind that Sam had a great fuck mate named Kendra. Kendra was deaf too, smart, great in bed, great everything.

But Kendra was not the one, and the letter from Allison had reopened Sam's wounds. Okay, not that the wounds had been completely closed. What right did Allison have sending that letter, professing to miss Sam and claiming to have made a mistake? The bottom line was that Allison had not changed. If she had changed, she would have come to Sam in person instead of hiding behind words, instead of hiding behind a measly wishy-washy letter. How many mornings were there when Sam couldn't get out of bed? She just lay there all day, depressed. Allison. Allison. Allison. Allison. Allison. Allison. That single word ran through Sam's brain for weeks at a time.

You're one to talk about hiding behind words. You ran away. You're hiding, too. Many days, Sam wondered what would have happened if she stayed, if she had not been impulsive. She probably could have sweet-talked Allison in getting back with her, but they would have likely broken up again.

Yes, it was for the best Sam had left. She had no need for mama's girls and for on/off relationship cycles.

The police believed that Sam's mother, brother and grandparents died after Sam's grandfather swerved his car off the Blue Ridge Parkway to avoid a deer. The car had gone over a railing and plummeted. A deer. A cute, cuddly deer. Or a family of deer, mom, dad, kids. Sam had no drunk driver, no one to confront, no one to gnash her teeth at and wail at for killing her family.

Bambi killed her family.

But she could see someone else.

Hey. Here he comes.

Sam's interviewer entered the interview room, which was really the break room. A crappy break room, come to that. He gave Sam a shy smile and sat. He had paper and two pens with him.

Escuse my handriting, he wrote. I'm Bob.

Sam added mentally: And excuse your spelling, too.

Bob wrote: Tell me a little about yourself. Why do you want to work here? Bob's fingernails were dirty, no surprise given his profession.

Sam had come down five months ago for a brief glimpse of him at work, this Robert Joseph Kinner. His dad ran a car repair shop, and Bob had worked there before going to jail. So of course, upon his release, Sonny Boy rejoined the shop. This information had not taken much sleuthing on Sam's part. From her time with Allison, Sam knew Allison kept track of Bob through the online Arkansas Crime Information Center.

So Sam had begun doing the same, and when Bob was released last year, putting the pieces together had been easy. Five months ago, Sam had studied how he moved. His smile. His way of talking. She saw lots of Allen in him, and she had planned to never be back.

For some reason, Allison's letter had sent Sam back. Sam wanted to confront him. Ask him why he did what he did. She wanted to make sure he never hurt a child again.

Sam was also aware what she was doing was below her potential. And that she needed to snap out of her haze and grow the fuck up. She had been admitted to law school. Yep, law school. Maybe she was her father's daughter, after all. Going into her last year at Gallaudet, she'd had no idea what she wanted to do career-wise. She was majoring in English because...well, English was easy. generic.

Lawyer, lawyer, lawyer had been drilled into her head by Barry. So Sam had registered for LSATs, applied to a few law schools. And gotten in. However, she had decided to defer enrollment. Columbia University was expecting her next school year, but for now she lived with Kendra in a Brooklyn apartment tinier than her old bedroom at the Cannizarro house. Sam passed her time working as a jack of all trades for a New York City deaf aid group.

I'm ready for a change, for new challenges, Sam wrote, and Bob smiled in approval. Sam hurt all over. Bob's smile was Allen's, and Sam missed the kid. He was a good kid, a great kid.

New challenges are good, Bob wrote. So are second chances.

Shit. Sam felt sick. Bob was out, he had his second chance. And why the hell was Sam with him? Why was she here?

She wanted to write: I know what you did to that twelve-year-old girl. It's because of you she gets a haunted look in her eyes sometimes.

Sam would write nothing of the sort. She did not want Bob getting the urge to track anyone down.

Sorry, she wrote. I changed my mind. She got up and left.

*****

Sam stopped at a McDonald's a few miles from the car repair shop. She pulled out the last page of Allison's letter. It was so worn it was falling apart. And falling apart was not something Sam wanted for herself. She wanted to erase Allison from her life once and for all. People could usually do that with exes. But damn. Her ex was her stepsister.

If I could do things all over again, I would never have broken up with you. We were so great together. We were perfect. I was eighteen years old and scared. My love for you scared me. I felt like there had to be a catch. I know I really screwed up, Sam. This letter doesn't even go halfway, but I really miss you. So do a lot of other people. Please, come back. At least for your father. He needs you.

Always,

Allison

Conspicuously missing were three words: I love you. Sam went into the McDonald's and got heart-attack chow in honor of Susan. She sat in a booth, held up her Coke in toast to Her Evil Highness, ate, and drafted her reply. Sam had received Allison's letter several months ago, but oh well. Better to reply late than never, as the saying went. Except Sam was not sure she should be replying. She would have to, though, to end her and Allison for once and all.

Sam went through several drafts, and the one she settled on went thus:

Allison,

I got your letter. No need to beat yourself up. You were right. We wouldn't have worked out. This way we were able to find ourselves. And you know that me leaving wasn't just because of you. Anyway, take care. Maybe see you around.

-Sam

Sam threw away her trash and folded her letter. She would mail it once she was back in New York. Maybe you should go to her. "Nope," Sam muttered. She and Allison were in separate places now, completely separate places. Once fooled, shame on you. Twice fooled, shame on me. Sam was not putting her heart out for Allison to crush again. Besides, Allison had been right. Sam had been a fool in love. People who got together in high school had no idea who they were. Allison had been right to set Sam free.

Chapter Twenty

"Helen Vierow? You're moving in with Helen Vierow?" Susan tightened her grip on the purring Priscilla. Allison supposed the cat was okay, but like with Beau, Susan spoiled it rotten.

"Helen, huh?" Barry furrowed his brows. "Didn't realize you two had gotten that close."

The three of them were in the Cannizarro living room, and the kids had gone to bed. Allison had put off the news as long as she could, and so here it was. "Barry, Helen and I are close. We're actually together. Dating."

Barry's mouth formed an "o."

"I'm gay," Allison said, and she looked at both her mother and stepfather. Susan's gaze was angry, while Barry's was shocked.

"Never mind that Heather woman," Susan said. "I'll help you find a nice cute place near the hospital. You'll meet a handsome doctor. A male doctor."

"Jesus, Momma. Her name is Helen." Susan had never liked Helen. First, when Helen was her boss, Helen had actually made Susan do work. And then later, Susan had suspected an affair between Helen and Barry.

"Wow," Barry said. "Wow. Well." A weak grin.

"I love her," Allison said. "I love her very much, and she loves me."

*****

Barry got into bed and slung an arm across Susan's midsection. "How about that," he said. The couple of hours that had passed since Allison's big revelation had done little to dull his shock.

Allison, gay.

Allison, moving in with Helen, a woman whom, Barry admitted, he had lusted a bit after. Helen was how old again? Barry thought thirty-three, thirty-four, maybe. Kind of a big age difference between her and Allison. Not bigger than the age difference between him and Helen, though.

"I don't like it," Susan said.

"I'm sure you don't."

Susan sat up. "Allison isn't gay. She hasn't found the right man yet, that's all. I keep trying to set her up on dates, but she doesn't do anything."

"Do, uh, do you think it's because of what happened when she was twelve? With Bob? Is she afraid to be with a man?"

Susan studied her nails. "Could be."

Barry reached for his wife's shoulder. "One thing I can say. Helen's a good person. People don't come better than her. Allison's in good hands." Oh, God. Helen might be my daughter-in-law one day.

Susan flopped back down. "Hannah Vierow! Honestly, Beauregard. Allison needs to find a handsome young doctor. I tell you something. Allison and Hannah better not get married."

Barry could practically see his wife's thoughts. Thought balloon one: What will Mama and Daddy think? Never mind that Susan's parents continued to cut her out of their lives. Susan still sought their approval, and much of what she did was geared toward gaining that approval. Thought balloon two: The Bible says being gay is wrong.

"Susan," Barry said gently.

"What?"

"Helen is a friend of mine. And she's someone Allison loves. So, please, no more Hannah, no more Heather. Her name is Helen. Okay?"

"Fine," Susan grumbled. She rolled over, her back facing Barry. He clasped his hands behind his head and thought. He thought a long time.

*****

The letter from Sam arrived the week before Allison moved in with Helen. Allison took a deep breath and tore the envelope open.

A few lines.

That was all the letter was. A few lines. A brush off.

Allison,

I got your letter. No need to beat yourself up. You were right. We wouldn't have worked out. This way we were able to find ourselves. And you know that me leaving wasn't just because of you. Anyway, take care. Maybe see you around.

-Sam

"Shit," Allison muttered. That was that, then. She and Sam were done. Irreparably done.

*****

Another summer passed. In the fall, Allison started a job that she genuinely enjoyed, teaching a class of seven first- and second-graders. She loved working with deaf children, even though the job was difficult, and at times, heartbreaking. Some families refused to learn sign, and the children suffered. Also, the range of language aptitude in the group varied wildly. Some kids did not know their abc's when they came to her, while others were already reading at the fourth-grade level. Regardless, Allison loved each child.

The students, in turn, adored their bubbly young teacher. She was so much better than the stern Miss Mildred Whipside, the other teacher of the deaf at the school. Miss Whipside was sixty years old, with prim spectacles perched on the edge of her beaky nose. She wore the same kind of shapeless dress every day to school. Allison hated how Miss Whipside frowned upon what came to the students naturally—sign language. Instead, she emphasized auditory and speech training, which was fine, but sign language could fill precious gaps.

A few weeks after the school year started, Allison found herself unprepared for her first anniversary with Helen. The date had sneaked up; her life had been a whirlwind since school started. One year. As of tomorrow, we’ll have been together one year. Allison shook her head in amazement as she pulled into a parking space at the mall. Time to find a present. She wandered in and out of store after store; nothing was quite fitting for Helen. Allison headed to a rack of women’s clothes and held up a business suit.

"Hey. That doesn't look like something you'd wear." The voice caused Allison to jump.

"Julia! Hey! It's for my...for my...It's our one-year anniversary, and I can’t find anything for her."

"Ah."

Allison slid the pantsuit back on the rack. "You know Helen Vierow? She's one of the lawyers at Barry's firm. That's who I'm dating. I can't get her anything because she has everything."

"I've met Helen a few times. She’s really nice. Hey, how about one of those tabletop water fountains? Better than a suit, certainly. It’d look great in her office."

Allison considered. "She has two. So how's Sam?"

Julia scratched her nose. "Come on." She snaked an arm around Allison's waist. "I'll help you find something for Helen."

An hour later, Julia and Allison, their arms laden with purchases, emerged laughing from a specialty shop. "Thanks, Julia. Helen will love these antiques."

"Just give them to me if she doesn't. I had fun. Thank you, young lady." Julia straightened and looked Allison in the eyes. "I wish Sam would get over this. I like you. I used to be angry at you, but I realize that you both were, still are, young, and relationships don't always last forever. People make mistakes, and that's what you did. Sam needs to understand that and move on. Running away is a part of Sam's life. Always has been. She has so much anger bottled up inside."

"Have you—" Allison faltered. She had no idea what to say. Barry and Beau had gone up for a few visits with Sam in the past year, and one time, Allen had gone with them. The visits had been decent. But visits were all they had been, and if Sam had told her dad she was gay, Barry made no mention of it to Allison. "I don't know what I was going to ask."

Julia's responding smile was gentle. "I better go. Take care, Allison."

"Wait." Allison set down her purchases. "I have something to tell you. I think Helen's going to ask me to marry her." Funny to think about. This time last year, Allison had barely known Helen Vierow. And now, they were about to be engaged. Freaking engaged to be married.

Julia gave a smile, but dismay was evident in her gaze. "Well, congratulations. You're going to say yes, I presume."

"I think so, yep."

"Why do you think she's gearing up to ask you?"

"It's a gut feeling. And she was looking at my rings the other day. Sizing them up."

"Hmm. Well, congratulations again. When would the big date be?"

Allison laughed. "I have no idea. But maybe sometime in the spring, maybe March, when I'm on break from school. We could have a wedding here and have our honeymoon in a state where we can get legally married. Maybe Massachusetts."

"That's about the same time your mother and Barry got married."

"Yep. Sure is." With a pang in her heart, Allison thought of her spring break with Sam while their parents were honeymooning. Chuck E. Cheese. The purple ring.

"You're being pretty specific for someone who said she had no idea," Julia pointed out.

Allison ran her tongue over her teeth. "Well, I suppose I've been thinking about it. Thinking about my answer. We could do a long engagement, but sometimes I would just like to throw off my shackles and be wild. You know what I mean? So if we get married next spring, I'm fine with that. I messed up with Sam. I froze when she asked me to marry her. I mean, I just totally, totally froze. My heart said yes, yes, yes, yes. My brain said no freaking way. And I let my brain beat my heart. I'm tired of being cautious. I want to live, you know? I want to live for once. Like you said, I gotta act for myself. I gotta be true to myself."

"Sam asked you to marry her?"

Allison shifted uncomfortably. "Yes, she did. While I was breaking up with her. So, it wasn't genuine, really. It was a desperate act."

"Sam asked you to marry her," Julia said softly. "Wow."

"It wouldn't have worked out."

"And you think you and Helen will."

Allison's defenses kicked in. "Why wouldn't we? I'm a bit older now. I'm more secure. I can support myself."

"Well, good luck, Allison."

"Remember the letter I asked you to send? Sam replied. She basically told me to chill and that breaking up had been the right thing."

Julia tilted her head to one side. "I see."

"Hey, Julia. Does Sam talk about me?"

"No. You're a forbidden topic."

"Should I send her a wedding invitation?"

Julia chuckled. "Sam would rather throw herself in front of a train than go to the wedding."

"So that's a no. Can you at least tell me how she's doing? You know, how she's doing in school, dating anyone?"

"Can't. Sorry. Sam doesn't want me to. But, yes, you should send her a wedding invitation. She's family. She's your stepsister. Absolutely, yes, invite her."

"Okay," Allison said slowly.

"Allison." Julia put down her purchases. She took Allison by the shoulders and looked her in the eyes. "Think about your answer to Helen carefully, please. Very carefully. Because Sam just might surprise us all and show up to the wedding. And what happens then?"

"I love Helen," Allison said. "I wouldn't say yes if I didn't want to marry her."

*****

Helen was at the offices late that night, and Allison found herself digging through a box for the folder that held her rough-draft letters to Sam. She should have thrown the letters out before moving in with Helen, and she would now. The folder was yellow and labeled SL, for Sam Letters. Allison plucked a letter at random from the middle.

Hey Sam.

So, I had a date tonight. You'll love this. Remember Joey? He was the guy I broke up with to be with you. He called last week to see how I was doing, and we got to talking. I mentioned I had just broken up with Darryl, and lo and behold, Joey asks me out. I said yes. We went putt-putting, and you were all I could think about. Not that that's new. Joey asked how Allen was, and I told him the truth.

That Allen wasn't doing too hot because he had upset me and that I wasn't doing too hot, because he couldn't call me 'Mom.' I told Joey about Bob, about Allen being mine, all that.

Yeah. Pretty safe to say Joey won't be calling for another date. His expression was...yeah. Anyway.

I'm on my third shot now. Some cheap vodka brand. It'll do.

I miss you, Sam. Sorry I'm an idiot.

- Allison

Allison replaced the paper and got another. This letter was ripped in half, and Allison remembered which one it was.

Sam,

Bob got out last week. I could really use you right now. You'd hold me, and you'd tell me it was okay, that he wouldn't dare come here. He wouldn't dare see Allen. You'd kiss me all over, you'd nuzzle my stomach, my breasts, my butt, and I'd forget about him.

Come home. Please come home. You weren't supposed to leave. You were supposed to stay, we'd be mad at each other a few days maybe, but I'd come to my senses and kiss you. And the world would be right again.

You left, Sam. I never expected that. I thought you'd fight for me instead of cut and leave.

"Geez," Allison muttered. She shoved the letter back in and replaced the folder. She re-sealed the box. She would toss the letters out another day.

Chapter Twenty-One

For their one-year anniversary, Helen and Allison set up a living room picnic, complete with a red checkered blanket, candles and apple juice in wineglasses. Helen shut Cat in Allen's bedroom.

Helen was nervous. Oh, on a superficial level, she seemed fine, but Allison knew her lover. She could tell Helen was anxious. The way she kept playing with her silver bracelet, for example, and her sometimes scattered replies.

Yep. Helen was, tonight, going to ask Allison to marry her, and two questions remained: (1) Exactly when would Helen ask? and (2) Would Allison's answer still be yes? Allison had been confident, well, fairly confident, of a yes answer during her conversation with Julia. However, the diary-entry letters to Sam weighed on Allison's mind, and sometimes her brain did odd things.

Dinner was Chinese from the same place Allison and Helen ordered from one year earlier. They ordered from the place about once a month, but hey. First-date memories, right?

Allison tried to keep up her usual robust appetite but could not. Good God, waiting for the proposal was agonizing. Julia's words rang through Allison's mind. What happens then? What if Sam showed up to the wedding? Well, nothing would happen, of course. Julia had been implying Allison would leave Helen at the altar. Thing was, Julia didn't realize that Allison was happy, truly happy, with Helen. Allison was dreadfully tired of being a good girl. Yes, she was still young. She had been eighteen with Sam, and now she was twenty-three. How many twenty-three-year-olds who got engaged were still with the same people twenty years later? Well, Julia was with Gerald. And Norene, Sam's mother, was twenty-five. She and Barry had been the real deal.

Allison would not make the same mistake with Helen that she had with Sam by listening to her brain and saying no. Allison wanted to throw caution to the wind and dive headfirst into life. She was secure enough in herself that she could withstand her mother's withering glares at the engagement ring, her mother's disappointment that she was marrying a woman.

What better person to start a life with than Helen?

Allison slurped up the last of the lo mein. She was, somehow, managing to make a decent show of eating and enjoying her food.

"Let's see what my fortune cookie says," Helen remarked after the main dishes were finished. She snapped the cookie open. "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you."

"In bed," Allison added with a giggle. One game with fortune cookies was to add the phrase "in bed" to the end of each message.

Helen rolled her eyes. "Would you do unto me as I would unto you in bed?"

"Hells bells, yeah."

"Fortunes aren't fortunes anymore," Helen grumbled. "They're just silly sayings. We're lucky if they make sense."

"You say that every time we get Chinese."

"Not true."

Allison's smile broadened. "It's true. We have this conversation every time. One of the things I love about you."

Helen shot Allison a mock scowl. "Be nice and open your cookie."

Allison saluted. "Yes, sir." She tore the plastic covering and broke her cookie in half.

ALLISON, WILL YOU MARRY ME?

Allison blinked. Oh, wow. She reread the message, and her first thought was that Helen deserved capital points, because Allison had not seen this method of proposing coming. ALLISON, WILL YOU MARRY ME? Allison's hands became thick and unsteady. Her entire body did, and for a brief second, Sam was before her, Sam on one knee, Sam, her gaze pained, signing the same exact message: "Allison, will you marry me?"

"Allison," Helen said in a husky whisper. "I love you. Very much. This past year with you has been..." Helen shook her head. "It's been ridiculously perfect. Ridiculously happy. We're right for each other. We fit." And then Helen was on one knee too, and holding out a ring, and a nervous smile played on her lips.

"Oh, wow," Allison breathed. The ring was gorgeous. Perfectly understated, emerald on silver. It was different from other engagement rings Allison had seen, and she loved it instantly.

Yet, Allison hesitated. Sam on her knee, Sam asking: "Allison, will you marry me?"

Don't make the same mistake you did then.

"Yes," Allison said, and she threw her arms around Helen for a giddy hug. "Yes, Helen, I will marry you."

*****

Susan examined the ring on her daughter's finger. "It's pretty," Susan allowed.

Allison's beam could not be wider, and like when Allison had been making love with Sam, Susan felt old, very old. "It's gorgeous, isn't it? I love it. Helen has one like it for herself. And the cool thing is, together they only cost like five hundred dollars. Which is still a lot, but..." Allison shrugged. "I gave Helen two hundred and fifty to pay her back for her ring. It could have been a lot pricier."

Allison and money. Allison and money, always. Susan proffered a tight smile and glanced at her own ring, a proper, traditional diamond. "You gave the person you're engaged to money for a ring she already had?"

"Yes. I had to, Momma. I want to be equals, you know?"

"Are you insinuating I'm not equal in my marriage?"

Allison's eyes widened. "No. Gosh, no. I just meant...never mind."

Susan sighed. "Okay." She thought of her own parents. She had been two months pregnant with Allison, and Phillip got on his knee and asked her to marry him.

"I ain't got nothing," he said. "No ring. Just my love for you."

Susan had gotten on her knees and hugged him. "That's all we need."

Her parents, of course, had not seen it that way. And now here was Susan's daughter, her beam getting smaller and smaller, Allison desperately hoping for a kind word from Susan.

Yep, sure Susan wanted to slide the ring off Allison's finger and fling it over the back porch. Yep, sure Susan wanted to smack that Heather Voo-doo woman. Yep, sure Susan wanted to vomit on both Allison and Voo-doo woman.

She had to think of Beauregard. He approved of Allison's match. The engagement would no doubt thrill him.

Susan forced a stiff smile. "Congratulations, darling."

Tears sprang to Allison's eyes. "Oh, Momma. Thank you."

Chapter Twenty-Two

Susan half-heartedly helped with wedding preparations, but at least she was helping. At any rate, Allison found lots of pros to Susan doing it half-heartedly. This way, Allison had more control over the wedding. She and Helen wanted something fairly small and personal, both for the wedding and reception. And fairly small and personal was what they were getting.

"I still think you need to try again with a man," Susan told Allison when they were shopping for the wedding dress. Allison was looking for a simple dress, nothing frilly, nothing with a train. Helen would be wearing a dress too, but not a white color.

"Complaint registered."

"Honestly, Allison. How hard can it be to find a man? Plenty of men have long hair. Soft skin. And—"

"Momma."

Susan sighed. She motioned Allison to a chair away from the main part of the bridal shop. "I didn't want to bring this up. But is it because of what Bob did to you? Are you scared to be with a man?"

Allison had asked herself this quite a few times. And in the end, she had but one conclusion. "No. I'm gay. It has nothing to do with Bob. Remember, he did what he did to me because he caught me reading a lesbian magazine."

"Fine. Fine. Goodness, Allison. A March wedding? I can't lose a hundred pounds by then."

"Oh, Momma. You'll be beautiful. You always are."

"I sent Mama and Daddy an invitation."

Allison blinked. "You did?"

Susan shrugged. "I'm sure they'll tear it up like they did with mine. Won't give it a second look. But you never know."

Allison forced herself to grin. "That's right. You never know." Wow. Wow! Her mother had invited her own parents to her daughter's lesbian wedding. Wonders would never cease. Happiness scampered over Allison, and she squeezed her mother to her. "Oh, Momma. I hope your parents come. I really do. It means a lot to me you invited them."

*****

Susan had to admit that her daughter was gorgeous in her final selection. Yes, it was true Susan preferred another dress for Allison, something more traditional, but Allison would not budge. The dress Allison wanted was low cut, strapless, with a slit in the front for the right leg. Plus, it was cheap. Allison did not want, absolutely did not want, Barry paying more than three thousand dollars for the wedding. This dress cost a shade over one hundred dollars, and that was before the twenty percent off.

Allison twirled around again, and her eyes shone. "This is the one for sure."

Susan's chest squeezed, and emotions—jealousy, love, sadness—nearly overwhelmed her. "You're beautiful."

Allison gave Susan a wide-eyed look. "I am?"

"Of course you are."

"I don't need a haircut? I don't need to diet?"

Susan sighed. "I'm going to look over there while you change back into your clothes." She headed to the section for bridesmaids' dresses. These would be picked out next, Susan supposed. She was the matron of honor, and that was it. Yep. Small wedding, indeed. Helen's mother, Sandra, would be Helen's matron. Best man. Best woman. Whatever.

Susan fingered an especially attractive pink dress. It had a bow in the back. Susan liked bows. She'd thought Allison's dress needed one, but she had not said so. Time to suggest it. Anyway, having an openly gay child had not proved so bad. In many ways, Susan's standing in the community had increased. Being the mother of a gay child was kind of "cool" these days. People asked her how wedding preparations were going and told her how awesome the wedding concept was.

Susan went to a nearby mirror and held the pink dress in front of her. Her reflection stared back. She had become ugly, and it was time to face facts. She was ugly, ugly, ugly. Jacqueline, her sister, had inherited their mother's Miss America flawless skin and flawless, slim body. Susan never had a chance.

Face lift, Susan decided. A face lift would help. It would peel ten years off her face.

"Hey, Momma. Ready to go?"

Susan displayed the pink dress. "What do you think? For me and Sandra?"

"Uh." Allison smiled gamely. "You always did like pink. I'm not so sure Sandra does."

"Pshaw. She'll love it when she sees it." Susan replaced the dress. "Oh! Look at this bow. It's the final touch your wedding dress needs. The bow on your dress wouldn't be pink, of course."

*****

Kendra fell asleep quickly, as she always did after fucking. Sam stayed awake, wide awake. The introductory course she was taking in criminal law had given rise to a thought.

Only a thought. An intriguing, disturbing thought that would travel no farther than Sam's mind. Sam had been planning a perfect murder. She would not commit it, of course. Would not take any steps to do so. Anyone would have to admit, however, that Bob was an ideal victim. Ex-con, pedophile, not many people would miss him.

Sam shivered. She hated when her darkness scared herself. No use trying to sleep. She tumbled out of bed and went into the kitchen. She had gotten a fancy schmancy letter from her dad's address earlier that day. It was the sort of envelope graduation announcements came in. Maybe Allen was graduating from elementary school or something, but this was November. Too early for that sort of stuff.

Aha. Susan's having a big Christmas party.

Yeah, right. Like Sam would go. She had seen her stepmother here and there in the past five years, maybe three times altogether, and that was absolutely enough.

Sam opened the envelope.

Mr. and Mrs. Beauregard Bartholomew Cannizarro

and

Mr. and Mrs. Kabuo Akamatsu Vierow

request the honor of your presence
at the marriage of their daughters
Allison Alexandra Albrecht and Helen Elena Vierow

Sam's breath cut off. Numbly, she read the rest of the invitation and the assorted papers: wedding shower invitation, an invitation for the rehearsal dinner and reception. Allison. Allison. Her Allison, her Allison had fucking come out of the closet and was getting married. And to Helen, of all people. That bitch. Sam had confided in Helen, asked Helen's advice on how to tell her dad she was gay, and what had Helen done? Gone running to Allison! How long had they waited before getting together? Had that been their plan all along? Had they been fucking before the breakup?

Sam gritted her teeth. Doesn't matter. You should've moved on ages ago.

"The fuck," Sam muttered. She marched to the shredder and ran the invitation and all related materials through it.

The perfect murder. Not Robert Joseph Kinner. Helen Elena Vierow.

Sam got back into bed. Kendra was still asleep, and Sam studied her. She looked kind of like Allison: blond hair, light-colored eyes, but Kendra's hair was short. Kendra was on the butch side. After the breakup with Allison, Sam had spent a semester licking her wounds. Then that summer and into the next two years, she had gone out and fucked as many women as she could. Yes, Allison had been right to let her go. They had wild oats that needed sowing.

But Sam was done with that. She had been done with that when she got Allison's letter. So why in fuck had Sam answered like she had, affirming Allison's decision? Why in fuck hadn't Sam replied and said: "Hey, let's get together. Let's see where we stand with each other. You never know what might happen."

Her stupid, stubborn pride. She did not want to admit she might be hurting or whatever, that the time she had spent persuading herself she was fine had been time fruitlessly spent.

Allison's getting married. No way would Sam go to the wedding. If she went, she might regress into a baby. Punch Helen. Or something. Allison's getting married, and it's my fault.

Sam should have replied differently to the letter. She really should have.

*****

I need to shoot Beau right now, Allen thought. Serves him right. Beau kept making fun of Allen's new glasses. Allen hated the glasses too, but yeah, he could see lots better with them. Like he could see the TV now, could see the robots shooting one another. Before, they had been shadowy, hazy masses.

Allen and Beau sat sullenly on the couch, and Priscilla napped in Beau's lap. Allen did not like the Ragdoll cat. Allen had wanted a dog, but Beau saw a cat on TV and exclaimed: "Want that!"

So, of course, he got one, same breed, same coloring.

Beau tugged on Allen’s shirtsleeve. "Get me drink," he commanded.

"No."

Beau set Priscilla aside and studied his own arm. He bit himself and collapsed to the floor. He clutched his arm and hollered: "Momma! Allen bit me. It hurts! Momma!"

Priscilla scowled at Allen.

"Beauie!" Susan dashed into the living room. She gathered Beau into her arms and cradled him. "Oh, baby. Shh. Momma's here." Susan kissed his forehead and swatted Allen's arm. "You are ten years old! Stop picking on your brother! Act your age!"

"I didn't touch him!" Allen protested.

"Momma, look! His teeth in my arm!"

"Go to your room and think about what you've done. Go!"

Allen stomped up the stairs and slammed his bedroom door behind him. He flopped onto his bed and stared daggers into the ceiling. Beau was such a spoiled brat and got away with everything. Their mother doted on him. So did Barry. Barry had taken Allen and Beau fishing for a week a few months ago, and most of Barry's focus had been on Beau. Barry had brought a football too, and Beau could throw it better than Allen could.

Allen was sure Barry was ashamed of him. Allen wished Barry would spend more time with him, but he was hesitant to ask. Allen sucked at sports, and Barry was not his real father.

Allen hauled himself off the bed. He studied the rest of his room—typical preadolescent fare. Posters of baseball and basketball stars crammed the walls, and a soccer beanbag chair decorated one corner. Pricey clothes sat neatly folded in his drawers and hung from the rack in his closet, but Allen did not want any of that. He would give everything up—the video games, the swimming pool, his expensive private school for gifted children—if only he could go back in time. He wouldn't have let himself be born. He would have stopped his father from touching Al.

Allen went to his bottom desk drawer and got the handgun. He pretended it was Richie's Smith and Wesson double action revolver, but of course the gun was fake. From Richie, though. Richie had let Allen have it, and Allen liked playing with the gun, liked playing shoot ‘em. Barry went hunting sometimes and had a long ugly shotgun. Allen hated the thought of shooting animals, but he could ask Barry to put up a target in the back yard for practice. Maybe not gun practice, but archery practice.

Allen whirled and imagined a picture of Beau on a far wall. "Die!" he yelled, pulling the trigger. "Die!"

Serves him right, that snivelly little brat.

Allen aimed for the imaginary picture several more times. "Die! Die!"

Playing shoot ‘em usually relieved Allen's tension, but not this time. He slouched to the floor and stared at the gun. Did he really want to shoot his little brother? Of course not.

It was not Beau’s fault that Allen was not their mother's biological son.

Allen had to go to the bathroom, and he opened his door. Beau was at the head of the staircase, playing with blocks. He stuck his tongue out. "You suck," Beau proclaimed.

"Screw you," Allen retorted. He kicked down his brother's tower of blocks.

*****

Allison, Helen and Allen were watching a movie in Helen's living room. The three of them were spending the weekend together, and Allison was glad. She saw Allen practically every other day, but she missed him tremendously, missed the little things that came with living together.

Allen yawned widely. "Can I go to bed now?"

Allison paused the movie. "Sure."

"Hey, Al."

"Yeah?"

"You think Sammy's coming to the wedding?"

"I don't know."

"Hey, buddy," Helen said with a grin. "Allison told me y'all got your tux. You'll be the handsomest guy there."

Allen was slated to be the ring bearer. Ten was verging on too old, but so what? Allen had agreed.

Allen looked squarely at Allison. "I remember Sammy used to make you really happy."

"Sweetie, Helen makes me very happy. I love her." Allison touched her lips to Helen's to prove the point.

Allen's eyes flew shut. "Ew! Gross! Don't be like Momma and Barry."

*****

Allison stayed with Allen while he brushed his teeth. "I remember when I used to have to brush your teeth," she said.

"I'm way too big for that now."

"I can't believe you're ten."

"I feel older."

"But you're happy, right?"

Allen shrugged and squeezed toothpaste onto his brush. "I dunno."

"You dunno why?"

"How come you never wanna talk about Sam?" Allen asked.

Oh boy. "Did you decide if you want to play baseball this year?"

"Every time we talk about Sam, you get upset."

"Allen!" Allison snapped. "Stop it! You're being rude. I'm with Helen, and she has been nice enough to let you into her home."

"No one wants to talk about anything!" Allen cried.

Allison took a deep breath. "Allen. Allen, okay. Let's talk." She pictured Sam, the Sam who played with Allen. Her long black hair, her blue eyes, sometimes serious, sometimes mischievous. Her unrestrained laugh. The copter rides she gave him. The junk food she let him eat. Helen was great with Allen; she did good magic tricks. She wasn't Sam, though. Allen did not smile and laugh the same way around Helen that he had with Sam.

"Never mind," Allen muttered. "Hey, Al. Could I come live with you and Helen?"

Allen’s question was a stab in Allison's heart, but part of her—okay, all of her—glowed. "Why? You have a big house, a nice room, things to play with, clothes and food. A brother to hang out with when he isn't being an urchin. Everything I can't give you. You have so much."

"You ask me how I'm doing and stuff. You take me places. Momma and Barry don't care about me anymore. They have Beau." Allen brought his toothbrush to his mouth and got to work.

Allison lowered her eyes. You ask me how I’m doing and stuff.

Allen rinsed his mouth. "So can I come live with you and Helen?"

"That would be great if you could. I need to talk to Momma and Barry about it. Helen too, but that won't be a problem. Do you think you can wait until after the wedding to move in? That's not too far off."

"Can't you talk to them tomorrow? I want to move in tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? It's that bad?"

"Beau sucks. Please, Al. He bit himself and lied to Momma that I did it!"

Allison scratched her nose. "Brothers don't always get along. What you and Beau are going through, it's normal."

Red mottled Allen's face. "You're like them! You don't care."

"Allen, hon. No. Look, I'll talk to Helen tonight, see what she says."

"Talk to Momma and Barry tomorrow, okay? Please."

"I will."

Allen mumbled something Allison had no hope of understanding. "What, hon?"

"Stilldon'twannacallyouMom."

"That's okay. That's fine." Allison's heart surged with an aching, deep love for this child who was not her brother, but not her son, not yet. She doubted if they could ever truly be mother and son, or if they wanted to be. That did not matter, though. They had each other. Labels were immaterial. Brother, son, whatever. They loved each other. Allison flexed her hands and tried to steady her nerves. Allen living with her. Allen wanting to be with her. Yes, yes, yes!

Chapter Twenty-Three

Allen had trouble concentrating in his classes Monday; his sister and Helen were having dinner at the house tonight, and they were going to talk to Susan and Barry about Allen moving out. No more mean Susan, no more stupid Beau. Maybe Susan would fight for him. That would be nice, Allen mused. He did love his mother; maybe what Susan needed was a jolt. She would fight for him. She would not let Allison take him. She would promise to do better. She would say she loved him. She would shove Beau aside.

After school ended, Allen went to find Allison, who was picking him up. He went to a private school that didn't have buses, and so Al picked him up Mondays and Thursdays, Susan on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, and Barry on Fridays. Al was a little late; her own school got out only fifteen minutes before his did. She pulled up in the Lumina, and Allen scrambled over to the car. He jammed his book bag in the back seat. He hardly recognized his sister. Allison was pale, and there were bluish bags under her eyes.

"Hi, sweetie." She leaned over to kiss him. Even her touch was gaunt. "How was school?"

"You’re talking to Momma and Barry today, right?"

"Yes." The car started smoothly. "How was school? Buckle up."

"You look like you didn't sleep good."

"I'm nervous."

Allen sat back and watched trees roll by. "Me too." A red Bronco cut in front of them. "Dino!"

"Stop calling every red Bronco Dino. God, Allen. That's annoying."

"Ex-squeeze me."

"Are you positive this is what you want, to live with me and Helen? I need to make sure."

"Yes." Allen did not dare tell his sister he hoped their mother would fight for him and not let him go.

"I love him!" he imagined Susan screaming. "Why, he's my boy! I didn't realize he was unhappy. We'll go shopping right now, just him and me!"

"All right," Allison said. "All right."

*****

After dinner, Allison set up Allen and Beau with a DVD. "We're going to talk in the dining room," Allison said.

Allen waited a couple of minutes and then pretended he was a mouse. A little, quiet mouse. He got on all fours, scurried into the kitchen and paused right before the dining room.

"What you doing?" Beau was behind him.

"Shh! Get down," Allen hissed.

"What they talking about?"

"Shh! Get down."

"Okay!" Beau got on all fours and positioned himself to listen.

Allen risked a quick look-in. Barry and Susan were on the far side of the room, while he could only see Helen's and Allison's backs.

He settled back into position.

"Momma," Allison began. "You know I am deeply, deeply grateful to you for all you've done for Allen and me. You too, Barry. Thing is, Allen's not happy here. He wants to live with me and Helen."

Nothing for a few moments. A stunned silence. Then a meek: "What?" from Barry.

"Allen feels he doesn't get enough attention from you two."

"But...but." Barry again. When would Susan say something?

"Allen thinks you two favor Beau. And maybe you do. I don't know. I'm not making judgments. I'm just conveying he's unhappy, very unhappy. You two are great parents. Awesome parents. I'm not disputing that. I'm just saying we both feel like we belong together."

"Imagine what the town would think! My son going to live with my daughter? I'll be the talk of the garden club, the country club, the sailing club. Goodness no! They'll think I can't provide for my boy."

Allen flinched from his hiding place. His mother was fighting for him to stay—for the wrong reasons. There wasn't even a sailing club. He sometimes liked his mother's dramatics. She was funny, and he intuited that her theatrics were skin deep, a weapon for Susan to use to cover a much deeper pain. His mother liked to pull out a photo album sometimes from the bottom shelf in the living room. She would sit with him, and Beau too, and they'd go through pictures together.

"This is me and Phillip at junior prom," Susan would say wistfully. "This is me and my dad. He would love both you boys." Stuff like that. Susan missed her parents very much.

"You care too much about what other people think!" Allison retorted. "This is about Allen and his happiness. Helen and I have more than enough room. I have a great job. This is what Allen and I both want. He's ten years old and able to make educated decisions on his own behalf. He really wants this."

"Absolutely not!"

Allen hazarded another glance. Allison had gotten up and was sitting next to Susan. Allen's throat went dry. His sister was intense and serious; he had never seen her like this. "Allen is coming with me, Momma."

"Absolutely not!"

Allison touched Susan's shoulder lightly. Her next words were quiet and choked with pain. Allen had to strain to hear. "Momma, Allen is my son. He’s my son. And he’s so unhappy. Please. Allen's hurting. Can't we just try this for a month? Or a week or two? A little experiment? He's my son."

"He is mine too, Allison Alexandra. Mine and Beauregard's." Susan started crying, and crying, and crying. "I didn't want to hold him, you know that? After he was born, you held him out to me. I didn't want to take him. But I did. And." Another sob. "He's mine too, Allison."

Barry cleared his throat. "Allison, honey, I see where you're coming from. But I'm that boy's father. I didn't realize..." He rubbed his forehead. "I didn't realize he was unhappy. We'll work on it, won't we, Susie?"

"Absolutely," Susan said.

"I gave up Sam for him, and now I can't..." Allison stifled a sob. "Momma, I just want him to be happy. Maybe we can try a joint custody thing."

Barry stiffened. "What do you mean, you gave up Sam for him?"

Allen stared, unblinking. Allison continued talking in her low voice, but Allen did not try to make out her words this time. Allison broke up with Sammy for him? Why? That made no sense. He must have heard wrong. Did Sammy not like him or something? He had heard wrong. Allison had been talking so quietly, and he hadn't gotten all of her words.

"What!" A cry from Barry. Certainly no lowered voice. "You and Sam?"

Allen's stomach hurt. He crawled out of the kitchen and back into the living room. Beau followed him.

"Allen," Beau said, "you can't go. You don't suck too bad."

*****

Helen knew from the start this meeting would not go well, and now that Allison had brought Sam into it...pffffft.

Big ol' downward pfffft.

Allison was trying to explain and botching the job. "We were together for about a year and half before she left," Allison said. "Momma caught us in...in a very compromising position, and I was young. I was insecure. I wanted to make Momma happy, and what she wanted was for me to be straight and with a successful man. I thought if I could do that, she might let Allen live with me. I was stupid. I was eighteen years old and scared. I wasn't sure what else to do. Suffice it to say, Sam didn't take the breakup well. We were so much in love." Allison sighed, letting her gaze slide to the floor. "She trusted me. She allowed herself to love me, and I destroyed that."

Barry's expression was confused. "Sam and you were lovers? Was it a one-time thing for Sam? Or is she gay?"

"She's gay, like I am."

Unwelcome tension stretched over the room. "Well," Barry said at last. He shot Susan a piercing glare. "Thank you, darling wife, for sharing this information with me."

"Beauregard, don't."

Barry moved his gaze to Helen. "A joint custody thing would probably work."

"I believe so." Helen's specialty was custody issues.

"Draw something up," Barry said. "Now, ladies, please excuse me." He pushed back his chair and walked out of the room. Helen had never seen Barry work this hard to keep his anger under control. Susan was not going to have a happy time of it.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Helen had a calendar at work—several, really—but her favorite was the desk calendar. She had scribbled into each square how many days remained until the wedding. She Xed out each passing day, and today she got out her black Sharpie to make another X. Now the number of days left was twelve.

Helen could not believe it. Twelve days until she would be married. Well, technically, sixteen or seventeen, because the Virginia wedding was not legal. That wedding was on a Saturday, and she and Allison were leaving Sunday morning for their honeymoon in Boston. On Monday, they'd apply for a Massachusetts license and go to Provincetown during the three-day waiting period. If all went well, they would be legally married Wednesday or Thursday.

Semantics, maybe, but Helen would feel a lot better after they had the Saturday wedding, and doubly better after they were legally married. The reason was simple. Allison loved Sam. Still. Allison loved Helen too, but Helen was afraid she was first prize, while Sam was best in show. Allison was nothing but affectionate toward Helen, and Allison's eyes displayed nothing but love. However, one look at Allison's face whenever someone mentioned Sam was all Helen needed to know that Allison was in love, head over heels in love, with Sam still, even if Allison did not realize it or could not admit it.

Sometimes Helen thought she would have a panic attack. She had a history of sabotaging relationships, of going out with women who were not a hundred percent emotionally available. She should never have asked Allison to move in with her, much less marry her, but damn. She loved Allison, and they felt exactly right together. Late last night, Helen had watched Allison sleep, and Helen had felt dead inside. Only for a second, but it had been the most horrible second of Helen's life, and she felt worse than she did after Joanne. Helen should not have gotten involved with Allison, Allison so clearly on the rebound. Allison, then twenty-two years old and visibly in love with someone else.

Hope... just a little hope that Allison would get over Sam and find true love with me.

Funny thing, that. Helen and Allison had found true love with each other. Helen had no doubt she and Allison would be deliriously happy together. Problem for Helen was, she was afraid Allison and Sam existed on another plane altogether.

Helen replaced her black Sharpie. Twelve days. They would be okay as long as Sam stayed away. Out of mind, out of heart. If Sam decided to show up for the wedding, though, Helen was screwed. Old feelings would flood back for Allison, and she would realize she was with the second-best.

Shit. Stupid calendar. Stupid Xs. Helen tore off the month of March and crumpled it. Why was she relegating herself to second-best? Hope, yes. Stupid hope. Allison was her best, her best in show. And maybe Helen was overthinking. Maybe she was Allison's best in show, too.

Was it odd she had kept the conversation with Sam? Maybe, maybe not. It had touched her in some queer way, so she'd kept it. Helen got a little key and unlocked her bottom desk drawer. She kept important, official papers there, and in the file marked MISC, she drew out the conversation.

You seem to know my dad pretty well. Could I get your opinion on something?

Sure.

If I told my dad I was gay, and that Allison and I were together, what would he do?

Wow. Well. He'd probably need time to adjust.

Do you think he'd get, like, mad and throw us out? Stop paying for our college?

I can't imagine he would. He's probably cooler than you think.

What about Susan?

Maybe not so cool. Who knows with her?

I'm tired of keeping secret about me and Allison. Allison says we can't tell and that it's easy for me to want to be in the open because I don't have to live with them all the time.

Do you think she has a point?

I guess. I'd do anything for her, anyway. Keep quiet forever, whatever. We're the ones for each other. I love her so much. The sneaking around just gets a little draining.

Helen did not have the heart to read the rest of the conversation, and she replaced the paper. Drained was certainly the word of the day. Helen was, for sure, drained with worry. She remembered Sam's gaze, Sam's eyes as she wrote she loved Allison: intense, passionate. Impossible to resist.

*****

The Monday before Allison's wedding, Sam began feeling physically ill. On Tuesday, her condition worsened somewhat. On Friday morning, the day before the wedding, she knew what she had to do.

Go to the damn wedding.

Get closure.

Rejoin the family.

For the past five years, Sam had been acting like an immature, spoiled child. One year, okay. But five years? Allison was right. They would have broken up eventually, like Sam wrote in her letter reply to Allison. Time to suck her shit up. Her dad had been trying to meet her halfway, learning sign better and teaching little Beau sign. Hell, even Susan had taken a sign class.

On Fridays, Sam had only one law school class, in the morning. She checked flight schedules before leaving for class. If she so desired, she could make the rehearsal dinner. The time and place of the rehearsal dinner and the wedding were seared into her mind. She had not sent RSVPs, but so what? She was family.

After class, Sam reserved a flight that would put her in Roanoke at six-fifteen. The rehearsal dinner started at six. Airline rules would not allow her to bring a wrapped gift aboard, so Sam would get a gift before the dinner. She would show up fashionably late.

Yup. I'm gonna go. Go and do what?

Hell if she knew.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Allison walked through the condo before leaving for the wedding rehearsal. Helen was stuck in a meeting and would meet Allison at the rehearsal.

Five minutes. I have time. Allison got her SL folder. Maybe now she would throw the letters out. Or maybe she ought to add to the pile. Allison checked the time again and wrote quickly:

Sam,

I get married tomorrow. I'm very happy with Helen, and I hope you are happy, too. Maybe someday we can be friends. I will always love you, and I regret every day that I hurt you. I will always wonder what our children would have been like, but I guess life works out somehow.

I have to go. I'll be late.

I love you,

Allison

Allison put the note at the top of the pile, and her heart was heavy. "I'm marrying the right person," she muttered. She got her purse, her keys, and left the building. She walked to the dumpster behind the condo building and brought her lips to the yellow folder for a kiss. "Goodbye, Sam."

*****

Julia leaned against the brick wall of the restaurant and grinned at her co-smoker. A cigarette dangled from Barry’s mouth, and he inhaled deeply. His eyes rolled back into his head. "Ahh. That's nice. Sweet stuff." He chuckled. "Remember? Norene was after us for years to quit smoking. And here we are."

Julia took a deep puff from her own cigarette, her lungs filling with comforting warmth. "She was the one who started the craze."

"She was something else, that Norene."

Julia gazed into the distance and thought about her long-dead sister and the man who continued to mourn her. "Yes. She was."

She and Barry stood in silence for a few minutes, trying to enjoy their cigarettes, trying not to think about Norene. Dusk was falling, and medium-heavy traffic traveled down both lanes of the boulevard in front of the restaurant. The rehearsal dinner was nearly over. The dinner had been nice, and Julia had enjoyed meeting Helen's family. Weird situation, this, Julia being at Allison's rehearsal dinner. However, Allison had invited her and Gerald, and Julia figured they should go.

Julia studied Barry’s face. He was the kind of man who shaved often or risked an overrun of unruly hair. His cheeks were already fuzzy with rough, bristly hair. This was Barry. Barry who spent early mornings playing with Sam and Lucas. Barry who rushed to help her and Gerald whenever they needed him. A vulnerable and completely human man. The man her sister had been madly in love with. The man who had no freaking idea why Sam had really left, and after five years, Julia was way past tired of keeping Sam's secret.

Julia and Barry snuffed out their cigarettes, and then Julia took the big man’s hands into hers. "I need to tell you something. Sam was—she and Allison were very close."

Barry's gaze was dark. "They were together. I know."

"You do?"

Barry went on to explain quite a few things, including something Julia had not known. Susan had caught Sam and Allison having sex. "I've barely talked to Susan. She had no right to keep this secret from me," Barry finished.

"I wanted to tell you. Many times. I was afraid if I did, Sam would cut me out of her life. And she needed me. She needs me. All the anger inside her..."

Barry's responding expression was so intense, Julia had to look away.

"Jul," Barry said.

She returned her gaze to him. "What?"

Barry was suddenly an old, sad man. "Was it true love? Sam and Allison?"

"Probably."

"And Allison and Helen?"

"Probably. You can have more than one, ah, great love. You know that. You had Norene, and now Susan."

"Yeah." Barry clenched his jaw. "I don't know what to do. I have a draft email to Sam."

"What does it say?"

"Hello. That's it. I can't type more. I don't know what to say to her."

"Tell Sam you know about her and Allison and that you love her no matter what."

Barry grunted. "Allison being gay, okay. But Sam? I always imagined giving her away at her wedding. To a man."

Julia squeezed his hand. "It'll take time, but you'll adjust."

"I shouldn't have brought her up like I did. All that masculine stuff."

"Cut it out." Julia made sure her voice was firm and no-nonsense. "Sam is who she is, and she was going to be who she was no matter what you did."

"I guess," Barry mumbled.

A cab parallel parked at the curb, and Julia recognized the woman inside the taxi. It can't be. Is it? Yes. Julia's heart caught in her throat. "Speak of the devil."

Barry took a tiny, tremulous step forward. "Is...is that..."

A long leg encased in a black boot and tight blue jeans snaked out of the cab and planted itself firmly on the ground. Gracefully, the remainder of the body pulled itself out of the taxi.

Julia’s hand fluttered to the base of her throat. Yes. Yes. Her eyes were not deceiving her. The new arrival was none other than her niece. Sam, who supposedly couldn't be bothered to come.

Sam threw some dollar bills at the driver and hauled a medium-sized duffel bag out of the cab. The taxi drove away. Sam flipped back her long, silky black hair and looked right at Barry and Julia.

Julia could not help but stare at her niece. Julia saw Sam several times a year, but each time, Sam took her breath away. Sam, even though her face had acquired a hardness, was more beautiful than ever. Sam, only twenty-five feet away. Tall, slender, muscular. Oozing sexiness. She wore a tight white T-shirt and a beat-up leather jacket. She would be perfect for the cover of a motorcycle magazine.

They stepped toward her, and Barry threw his arms around his daughter. Sam hugged Barry and Julia both. She drew back. "Hey. I decided to come visit you guys."

"And for the wedding," Barry pointed out.

"Yes. That, too."

Julia squeezed Sam close. "You look great."

"Come on," Barry enthused. "Let's go in."

Julia steadied him. "Wait." She looked Sam in the eyes. "He knows about you and Allison."

Sam shot Barry a nervous look.

"And..." Julia sighed. "Sam, why are you here?"

Sam laughed. "My stepsister is getting married. We're family!"

A relieved grin broke out across Barry's face. He was probably thinking Sam was over Allison and that no scenes would ensue. No Sam punching out Helen. The poor, clueless man. He had not held Sam in his arms for three days in a row after the breakup. Sam had truly been inconsolable. Miserable. She had never cried like that, and Julia hoped she would never again. Julia had not been kidding when she told Allison she'd had to drag Sam out of bed and back to classes. That had been literal.

Barry clasped a hand to Sam's shoulder. "Let's go in. I can't wait for everyone to see you." To his credit, he remembered to sign.

"Am I dressed okay?" Sam asked.

Barry waved away the question. "You're great. Sam, I'm glad you're trying to be Allison's friend."

Anger flashed in Sam's eyes but was gone as quickly as it appeared. "I've never been here. New restaurant?"

*****

Sam struggled to rein in her emotions as her father and aunt led her to the banquet room. She would not allow herself to think about Allison. Allison, the mama's girl, in another woman's arms. And not just any woman. Helen Vierow. Stop. On the flight over, Sam had emphasized to herself that she was to act cold and distant with Allison. Just like with Susan.

Piece of cake. Piece of rehearsal dinner cake. Wedding cake.

Not.

Since she got the invitation, Sam had punched Helen again and again. In her mind, of course. The entire flight over, Sam had thought about Allison. Practiced her approach. Go up. Smile. Hand gift over. Say: "Congratulations. Hope you'll be happy." Smile again. Walk away.

Seeing Allison in Helen's arms would break Sam's heart, but hell. Why not torture herself? After all, she seemed to get some perverse pleasure from it.

"Here we are," Julia said, and she gave Sam a significant look. "Are you ready?"

"Yes." But before Julia could open the door, Sam saw an all-too-familiar figure approaching from an alcove. Bathrooms, maybe.

Helen.

No denying the lawyer was beautiful. Never had been any denying it, and God. Sam had forgotten just how beautiful Helen was, and it made her want to pummel the living daylights out of the woman.

Helen swallowed hard. She lifted her chin, boldly met Sam's gaze, and Sam found pleasure in the fear in Helen's eyes. Helen need not worry. She could have the mama's girl all to herself.

Barry's beam was megawatt. "Helen! Look who's here."

A crisp smile. Helen held her hand out. "Sam. Hello."

Sam took the hand, and she looked for the engagement ring on Helen's other hand. The ring had an emerald stone and a silver band. Pretty. Too pretty. Sam hated it.

Helen said something, and Julia interpreted. "Thank you for coming."

Sam remembered what she had practiced on the plane. She reached into her duffel bag and got the gift. She handed it over. "Congratulations. I hope you will be happy."

Helen looked to Julia for her to voice. "Thank you," Helen replied, but she was stiff, unsmiling. She looked like someone had just died, and Sam was sure she did too. "Thank you very much, Sam. Did you drive here?" How polite they were being, like they were reading off script cards.

A fight in the back in the parking lot was how they ought to settle this.

Sam smiled agreeably. "I flew."

"How was the flight?" Helen asked just as agreeably, but her eyes had gone hard. Very hard. Sam bet Helen could brawl decently.

"I got high," Sam said.

Julia coughed. Helen, too. "Samantha!" Julia exclaimed. "You got high?"

"Hey! High in the sky. Planes go high. Chill. Can't I joke?"

Barry laughed. Threw his arms around Sam again. "I missed you. Come on, lots of good desserts in there."

*****

Allison was pleased at how the rehearsal dinner was going. Everyone was getting along, and Susan had not scowled once. At the moment, Allison was in a conversation with Sandra about the benefits of going vegetarian. A one-sided, vigorous conversation, Sandra's side. Allison doubted Sandra had noticed when Helen left for the bathroom.

Ah, thank goodness. Helen was back. She walked in with Barry and Julia.

And then Sam.

Sam.

Sam.

Oh shit.

Allison wanted to look away, had never wanted anything more. But she stared, and her eyes connected with a pained blue she knew all too well. Allison's throat clenched, and her heart sank to the pits of her stomach. Memories of a love affair came flooding back, and Allison and Sam held each other's gazes for what seemed an eternity. Allison saw everything there. Pain, love, hate, the sting of betrayal.

Then Sam looked away.

Sam came. Sam came. Why?

Allison became aware that she was not breathing. And that Helen had come up to her, that Helen's fingers were pressing into her flesh. "Excuse me," Allison said, and she went to the punch bowl. She ladled punch into her cup as if nothing had happened. She closed her eyes, and her heart beat euphorically, guiltily, as she replayed Sam's entrance. Sam’s blue eyes had raged with unparalleled ferocity, but something else lurked in those swirling depths. Pain and bitterness, hate perhaps, and maybe some sort of love. If only…

"Allison?" Helen again.

"What, hon?"

Helen held out a gift and gave a helpless laugh. "This is from Sam. She says congratulations and she hopes we will be happy."

Chapter Twenty-Six

The first person Sam saw in the banquet room was Allison. Of course it would have to be Allison, and Sam shifted her gaze to a group of black people. She refused to let any details about Allison sink in, even as pain surged through her. Lots of pain. God. She loved Allison, always had, and always would. No way could Sam stay for the wedding. Or this damn dinner. She would leave in two minutes and book a flight out. Tomorrow morning, she would be high again.

The second person Sam recognized was Allen. She had seen him about seven months ago, when Barry visited with Beau, but she had a hard time coming to terms with the fact he was no longer the mischievous, lively five-year-old who threw snowballs at her. A thin, blond ten-year-old had replaced the five-year-old. Allen's hair was lighter, and his baby fat was gone.

Sam waved hello.

A huge grin took over Allen's face. "Sammy!" He ran to her, and she hugged him.

"You're looking good," Sam said.

Beau ran up. "Copter," he signed, and he held his arms up like Allen used to.

Sam took her half-brother for a ride. Damn, the kid was heavy. Sam had always felt uneasy around Beau. It was not because she saw Allison in him, but because she saw Susan in him. Beau sometimes had a sullen air, and there was no mistaking his frothing gray eyes. Her Evil Highness's eyes. Beau's Susan parts aside, he was an adorable kid who seemed to like Sam, so she liked him back.

*****

The next fifteen minutes were torture for Sam. Her Evil Highness came up, hugged Sam, attempted sign, and it was obvious Susan had not been paying attention in her sign class and practicing.

But whatever.

Sam did not go up to Allison, nor did Allison go up to her. It was like the few times they had crossed paths since the breakup. They stayed far, far from each other. Sam spent her time with the boys and with Barry, Gerald and Julia. Susan was off schmoozing various people. Remember you're much better off without Allison.

"Who are they sitting with?" Sam indicated Allison and Helen.

"That’s Helen’s mother, a cousin, I’m not sure who that person is, and then that’s Helen’s father and his sister," Barry replied.

"Maybe you should say hi to Allison," Julia suggested.

"I will soon."

"I’ll get dessert with you and we can sit with them," Julia continued.

"You don’t think I can do it myself?"

"Hey, slow down. Y’all signing too fast," Barry said.

Sam sighed, and Julia voiced the gist of the conversation.

"Sammy?" Allen motioned Sam aside to a corner. "Did you make Al break up because you didn’t like me?"

"No way. Why would you think that?"

"Al said she gave you up because of me."

Huh. Sam was not sure how to react. "In her mind, it probably made sense. I don’t know. It’s done with, and Al and I are fine. We’re happy. Hey." Sam mussed Allen’s hair. "People break up. It happens." Wow. Good going. I'm being nice, calm, rational and mature.

"Can I come live with you?"

"Live with me?"

"Yeah." Allen nodded solemnly. "Momma and Barry and Al and Helen got some joint custody thing, but they’re not cool like you. I could come live with you in New York. We’d have fun."

"We would have fun," Sam agreed. "But I have no claim to you. Their claim is stronger."

"But I’m old enough to decide for myself!"

"Maybe in three years, a court would think so."

Allen’s mouth twisted. "Whatever."

Shit, Sam thought. What a freaking mess. She shot a glance at the head table, where Allison, Helen and the other people were. Just in time to catch Allison touch her nose to Helen’s and laugh.

Jesus. How nauseating.

Allen tapped Sam on the shoulder. "What did my father do to Al?"

Sam blinked at the shift in conversation. Now, of all times, Allen had to bring this up? Poor kid. He must have no one to confide in. "What do you mean?"

"My real father. Robert."

"He, well, he, do you know how people have sex?"

"Yeah. Did it hurt?"

"Yeah, it hurt," Sam replied, and Allen's face scrunched up. Sam's heart went out to her stepsister and to the son she had borne at thirteen, while still a child herself. Sam studied Allen with new, awed eyes. Allison's child. This is Allison's son.

"I don't like him," Allen signed small.

"Me either."

"Do you like me?"

"What? Do I like you? I love you."

"Don't go away again."

Sam hated Allen's pained expression, but she had no choice but to disappoint him. "My life's not here. At least right now, it isn't."

"Can I visit you? Maybe for a long time this summer? I don't need to go with Barry and Beau. I can fly by myself."

Sam reached over and hugged Allen. After she let go, she said: "I'll talk to your parents. We'll work something out." She glanced again at Allison and Helen, and thought she caught Allison looking away. Busted?

"Are you gonna say hi?" Allen asked.

"Sure. But I gotta pee. The last time I peed was like three years ago in New York."

Allen laughed. "The last time I peed was five years ago!"

"Nice bladder. Be right back."

Sam headed for Julia's car, not for the bathrooms.

Are you gonna say hi?

Allen's question had caused Sam to clamp up, had caused Sam to realize she had no business being anywhere near Allison. Hi. Two-letter word. Hi, hi, hi! Hi, you, Allison, and bunch of people I don't know and who can't understand me. No way could Sam face Allison with all these people around. Helen's freaking family.

Shit, it was cold out. Sam sat on an illuminated bench near the car and thumbed a text to her aunt. I can't stay. Can we go home? Get my jacket and bag, plz I'm @ ur car. Hey maybe bring a few cookies.

"I suck," Sam muttered. Why was she not over Allison? Five years was a long time. If only Allison had not sent that damn letter. Sam stood and stretched. It took all of her strength to not flee right then. She could hail a cab back to the airport. Why was she here? Why was she torturing herself like this? After all Allison had done, here Sam was, practically begging for more torture. How was she going to get through seeing Allison and Helen together?

*****

Allison saw Sam leave, and after a few minutes, Sam had not returned. "Excuse me," Allison murmured to Helen and the assorted people at the table. Allison checked the bathrooms and the rest of the restaurant. No Sam. She headed out, and Sam, rubbing her arms, was sitting near Julia's car.

Allison had left her coat in the restaurant too, but there was no going back for it. Her heart was hammering. Her body was weird and emotional and twisty. Part of her was mad at Sam, furious at Sam for showing up. The other part of her was...well. Allison would not let herself go there.

Allison sat at the other end of the bench. She and Sam were alone together, completely alone, for the first time in five years.

Sam did not acknowledge her, but Sam knew she was there, oh yes. Sam kept her gaze straight down, on a white stripe designating one boundary of a parking spot. Her jaw was tight. "Hi, Sam," Allison murmured, although Sam would not hear. Better to say something than be a statue.

An ocean might as well be separating them, or Sam might as well be back in New York. Allison was too scared to tap Sam's shoulder and start a conversation. So you’re in law school, Allison wanted to broach. What might you specialize in? She said nothing. She had no right to be talking with Sam, to be doing this.

She imagined Sam's response. Cradle robbing, probably. A jab at the age difference between Allison and Helen. Sam would continue: Yeah, I guess I’m as surprised as anyone I went into law. I guess we all become our parents, don’t we? Like mother, like daughter.

Sam continued looking down.

Social-climbing gold digger. Like mother, like daughter. What's Helen's net worth? She buy you cars and a nice house, clothes?

Can we talk for a minute?

No need. I'm leaving.

Please. I can explain. I never wanted to hurt you. Let me explain. Please.

Don't bother explaining, Sam would retort. Breaking up with me was the best thing you ever did for me. Thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Whoo! You were holding me back. I finally got to see the world. Got to travel, have fun. I've met many exciting women, if you get my drift. It's true what they say about older women. As I'm sure you know, from your own senior citizen.

"Shit," Allison muttered, and she rubbed Sam's shoulder. Time for a real conversation.

Sam looked up, and her gaze was dark. Intense. Wounded. Passionate. Sexual. Allison pretended her heart was fine. Paper, Allison thought. Pretend she's paper. Boring. Plain. Lined. Easy to wrinkle.

"Helen told your joke," Allison said. "About you getting high."

Sam dropped her gaze to the ring. "Wasn't my joke. I stole it from a friend."

"Ah. Okay."

"It's nice." Sam indicated the ring. "Bet it isn't from Chuck E. Cheese."

Allison inched toward Sam. "Can we—"

"I went to see Bob twice. He’s back at his dad’s shop. The second time I pretended to apply for a job. He interviewed me."

Bob. Bob. Bob's grin, Bob's smile, Bob urging her to touch his penis. The first time she and Sam made love, their conversation about wanting Bob dead. "I...wow." Allison had no idea what to say. "You did?"

"Yes. I used a fake name. Don't worry."

"What did you think of him?"

A helpless laugh. "He didn’t seem to mind writing with me. I didn't tell him I knew you. I wanted to see what he was like, that's all."

"Did you feel better after?"

"No. I went to McDonald's and replied to your letter."

My letter. Allison could say so many things. Things such as: "What I said in the letter stands. I made a mistake. I love you."

Allison had tried all her life to do the right thing, to be a good girl, a good person, and where had her efforts gotten her? In this fucking mess, a mess in which she was engaged to one woman but in which the sight of another woman caused blood to pound in Allison's brain and to leap from her heart. Seeing Sam again...

She loved Sam, and Sam loved her.

And Allison was getting married tomorrow.

They sat a few more minutes. Cold minutes. At last, Sam stood. "I don't think Julia is checking her phone. I'm going back in."

Allison scrambled for something to prolong the conversation. Something. Anything. "What fake name did you use?"

"Janelle Johnson."

Janelle Johnson. Nice flow. "How did you come up with that?"

Sam grinned. "I was looking at sample resumes for car technicians. One of the names was James Johnson."

"It's a nice name," Allison said. "Janelle Johnson."

"Thanks."

"Do you think I should see him?"

Sam cocked an eyebrow. "Bob?"

Allison got to her feet. "Yes."

"If you want."

"I wouldn't want to go alone."

"Don't blame you," Sam said. "You'll be fine. Your wife will go with you."

Allison saw herself going to Sam, hugging her, but she was paralyzed. She was getting married tomorrow. There would be no hugging Sam. "Why are you here?" Allison asked.

Sam's responding gaze was as dark and powerful as she was. "Is that the question?"

"What?"

"Maybe the question is, why are you here? Why are you here and not inside with Helen?"

"You're...fine. Fine." Allison was suddenly anxious for Sam to leave.

Sam said: "Congratulations. I hope you will be happy."

She went back inside, and Allison whispered: "I love you. I love you very much."

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Helen and Allison sat in uncomfortable silence on the way home. Allison's mind retreated to the past for an unpleasant slideshow of images: Bob's smile, Sam's pained expression five years ago, Allen's grimace when he said he could not call her "Mom," Barry's anger when he found out Allison and Sam had been involved. The slideshow movie ran through Allison's mind, a bleeding morass of faces and a jumble of voices and screeches. Finally, Allison and Helen were home, and Allison forced herself from the BMW.

In the condo, Helen set down her keys and turned to Allison. Helen's eyes held a lethal calmness, and Allison fiddled with her engagement ring. She loved the ring. She had spent many a night, many a break at school, gazing at it, letting love for Helen fill her.

"I love you," Allison ventured.

"Why are you with me?"

"Because I love you." Allison reached to touch Helen, but she drew back.

"Don't touch me. Don't."

"I won't."

"She loves you," Helen said. "You're the light of her life. You're her soul mate."

"What? No, Sam doesn't believe in that stuff. Neither do you."

"Whatever, whatever. Let me ask this again. Why are you with me? Or, let me rephrase, why are you with me and not her?"

"We were young. Teenagers grow. Teenagers change."

"You aren't teenagers anymore."

"No. But." Allison reached for Helen, and Helen drew back again. "But I love you. Very much. You asked me to marry you, and I meant my yes."

"But then she came back. I don't want to be second best, second choice. Your heart belongs to her. Do you know—" Helen's voice rose— "Do you know how you look at her? Do you know how you looked at her just now?"

"I guess not."

"You look at her like she's the only person in the room. In the world. I hoped...I don't know." Helen wiped at her eyes. "You love Sam more. I've always known it. Shit. I hoped. I really hoped you'd come to love me like you love her."

"Helen."

Helen shook her head. "Excuse me. Be back soon."

*****

Helen drove to the law offices, got what she had come for, and returned to the condo. Helen tried not to entertain the possibility that stared her in the face, but in the end, she was left with no choice. She's with Sam in her heart. I'm a fool.

They were over. Over. Just like that. Over. Five minutes of Sam, and they were over. Helen really had thought Allison could be the one. Strong now. Cry later. Of course, the thing of it was, she'd known it was coming. Had known it all along. Maybe that was why she was numb, calm and accepting. Relatively speaking, anyway.

When Helen entered the condo, she looked away. At anything but Allison. "Don't touch me," Helen repeated.

"I...I..." Allison sounded desperate, but Helen could not muster any sympathy for her. Not now. Helen struggled to hold tears at bay. How was she doing this, how was she being so civil to Allison when she wanted to scream and rage at the person she was supposed to spend her life with? Time to get out of town. She would be okay. Eventually.

Helen handed Allison the conversation with Sam. "Please go somewhere. Anywhere. A hotel. Whatever. Read this. I can't be with you tonight."

"Helen, what are you doing?"

"Do what you have to. Read this, fuck Sam's brains out, get her out of your system, whatever. If you still want to marry me, show up tomorrow at four. Simple as that. Go. Now. Please." Helen practically shoved Allison out of the condo and got to packing. No use waiting for Allison. Allison would not, absolutely would not be showing up to marry Helen. First thing in the morning, Helen would flee somewhere warm, somewhere tropical, and hole up.

*****

Allison checked into a Holiday Inn, the first hotel she came across, and unfolded the sheet Helen had given her. Sheets, plural. The handwriting was Helen's and Sam's.

You seem to know my dad pretty well. Could I get your opinion on something?

Sure.

If I told my dad I was gay, and that Allison and I were together, what would he do?

Wow. Well. He'd probably need time to adjust.

Do you think he'd get, like, mad and throw us out? Stop paying for our college?

I can't imagine he would. He's probably cooler than you think.

What about Susan?

Maybe not so cool. Who knows with her?

I'm tired of keeping secret about me and Allison. Allison says we can't tell and that it's easy for me to want to be in the open because I don't have to live with them all the time.

Do you think she has a point?

I guess. I'd do anything for her, anyway. Keep quiet forever, whatever. We're the ones for each other. I love her so much. The sneaking around just gets a little draining.

I can imagine. It's an unusual situation.

I feel better already. Having told you.

Good. So, any questions about what I do at my job or...?

Do you believe in soulmates?

Well, no.

Why?

The world has billions and billions of people. Many millions of people could be compatible with any one person, make any one person very happy. And who is right for one person at a certain stage in their lives might not be right at a different stage.

I understand. I used to think all that too, until I met Allison.

Then you're very lucky.

I imagine us married someday. Happy, with kids. Twenty years from now, we're...I don't know. Hard to explain. But I love her. I want to ask her to marry me. How long should I wait?

Probably until you're finished with college.

Sometimes I get the feeling she doesn't believe in us, that she's scared to.

Then go ahead, ask her sooner to marry you if you think that's right. Do I think you should? Well, no. I remember my first love. There's a depth of feeling you get that's incomparable. But I also know there's no use with words, because the heart feels what it wants to feel.

I'll ask her over summer break. That'll give me time to find a job at Gally, save for a decent ring, or a decent something, and come up with a really cool proposal.

Sounds good. Hey, your dad just knocked on the door.

Allison read the conversation ten, twenty, a hundred, whatever times, until she glanced at the clock. Ten p.m. How was that possible? Her chest was heavy, and she pictured Sam and Helen writing the conversation in Helen's office. Sam, earnest and in love. Helen, humoring her superior's daughter.

Allison kept replaying Sam on her knee, Sam's: "Allison, will you marry me?" Allison had frozen, had hesitated, yes. But she had been careful to not say no. She had said it would be crazy to get married. But she had not said no. Her mind had implored her: Whatever you do, don't say no.

Allison rubbed her eyes. Semantics. She wished she could cry, but she was too numb, too drained. This was not a time to cry, anyway, because if she was marrying Helen, she had vows to write. They had agreed on personalized vows, and Allison had tossed possibilities around in her mind for weeks and had tried to write a few. Each time, though, writer's block seized her. Allison got a hotel pen and hotel stationery from the desk. Maybe the reason she had been unable to write vows for Helen was because deep down inside, she knew Helen was the wrong person. But she would try again. Using her phone, she looked up sample vows online. Nothing wrong with combining template vows with some personalized stuff, right? Not all people were meant to be writers.

Allison started: Helen, I love you. On paper, we look like we wouldn't work, but we do. You came to me one autumn day and let me into your heart, into your life.

Nothing. The block again.

Allison sighed. "Damn." She scanned a few template vows and chose one: I consider it an honor and a privilege to be the one you have chosen as your life's mate. I promise to be a true and faithful wife, to love you, respect you and be honest with you always. I promise to be supportive of your goals and as you grow intellectually, emotionally and spiritually, I will be by your side rooting for you all the way. Never be afraid to confide in me. I promise to be a good listener and a safe confidant. You are always welcome in my innermost world, and I promise to share my goals and ideas with you. As we grow together throughout our marriage, there are no limitations on the possibilities of our relationship, and I hope we never realize just how high our high can be. I believe in you, and I will be there for you always.

"Well," Allison muttered as she finished writing. The vow was nice, but...okay, no but. That template vow was more than nice. Allison loved it. But she wanted it for Sam more than for Helen.

Allison felt light-headed. Faint. More than five thousand dollars. That was how much had gone into the wedding, from her, Helen, Barry and Susan, Kabuo and Sandra. And plenty of relatives had traveled. Allison would be very happy with Helen, no doubt. But Helen was not Sam. Try to write vows for Sam. See how that goes.

*****

"What did you and Allison talk about?" Julia asked Sam after they got ready for bed.

"Nothing."

"Were you nice?"

Indignation welled in Sam. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"You're head over heels in love with her. You might have a problem being civil to her."

"I was nice," Sam snapped. "I congratulated her and all that shit. Helen can have her. Who would want to be with her? Not me. She's exactly like her mother! She'll fuck anything that has money."

"Stop," Julia said warningly. "Stop right there, Samantha."

Sam raised a protesting hand, but Julia flung it away. "No! She loves you too. She always did. She made a mistake. I don't know why exactly, but give her a chance to explain. Go to her and work things out. At least do something for the family's sake. She's with Helen, yes, but only because you're too stubborn and prideful to come back! Look, go to Allison. Go to her, please. Let her explain why she did what she did."

"Why would I? She's better off without me. Helen has money. Nice place, probably. What do I have? Nothing except a shitload of student loans."

"Samantha."

"She's getting married tomorrow. No thanks."

"Sam."

"How much money went into this? Four, five digits? She isn't canceling this wedding."

"She would. She definitely would, for you. She'd gladly work her ass off for the rest of her life to pay people back for the wedding."

Sam glared daggers at her aunt. "You don't know shit! Stop telling me what to do. Stop acting like you're my mother."

Julia gulped, visibly stung, and Sam regretted her outburst. But before she could apologize, a lethal calmness entered Julia’s dark eyes. "Who took care of you when Norene and Lucas died, when your father couldn't? Huh? Who explained to you about the monthly curse? Who took you in when you came crying your broken heart out one January day five years ago? Who took care of you then? Who learned sign language for you? Who loves you no matter what? Gay or straight, troublemaker or not? I have respected your unreasonable, ridiculous wishes against my better judgment for the past five years. Let me tell you something. I may not have given birth to you, and I may not have fully raised you, but I love you, and I worry about you constantly like you were my own child. How dare you say I'm not your mother. I love you. I love you so much. And someone needs to knock some sense into that head of yours! If you don't work through your anger, you're going nowhere in life. You will die lonely and bitter! You don't deserve that. No one does." A resigned expression crossed Julia’s face. "I love you. I only want the best for you. Please know that. I hate to see you miserable. You are a beautiful, wonderful young woman. Please let everyone see that."

Sam could not meet her aunt’s eyes. She wanted to tell Julia that Julia had never been more wrong in her life. Sam was happy, very happy, and much better off without Allison. But Sam could not sign the words. Instead, her shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry. I’m sorry." Her breaths came in quick gasps. "We hadn't talked in five years. And the first word she said to me was: 'Helen.' As in Helen repeated my joke about being high or something lame like that." Sam blinked back a tear. She steeled her jaw and wiped at her eyes. I’m stronger than this. "You're wrong. I'm not miserable. I'm happy."

"So why are you crying?"

Sam cocked her head to the right, just a bit, to look at Julia a little differently. My mother. This is my mother. Sam's stomach knotted. "I'll be fine. She'll get married, and I'll move on. Finally."

Chapter Twenty-Eight

At five a.m., Sam woke up completely exhausted. Sleep had not rejuvenated her one bit. She peeked into her aunt and uncle's bedroom. Julia and Gerald were sound asleep, and by the looks of them, would not be up for a while yet. Sam plodded to the bathroom and washed up. Her eyes were not red anymore, although they were slightly puffy.

After a small breakfast, Sam felt more energetic. She would not run. She would stick around, be genuinely happy for Allison and Helen, applaud at the wedding. Maybe look away when they kissed, but hey. Sam was not perfect. The wedding was at four p.m., and Sam wanted to buy another wedding gift to make up for the earlier gift, which had been a crappy five-dollar candle set. Allison deserved better, and Sam would hand this present to Allison, not Helen. Sam would try her best to remain civil. Perhaps she and Allison could come to some sort of understanding, at least for Allen's sake. He did not need any more grief.

Sam left a note for her uncle and aunt on the kitchen counter. Took the old car-I'll be careful. See you.

Fifteen minutes later, Sam pulled into the mall parking lot. Shit. Closed. Too early. Go to Wal-Mart? No. She really was not thinking right. She could not go to the wedding. She had been on a fool’s errand. All Sam wanted to do was hold Allison and make things right. That was what she still yearned to do. The harder she tried to ignore the truth, the more it persisted.

Sam used her phone to book an early-afternoon flight to New York. When Helen and Allison said their "I dos," Sam would safely be high.

*****

As soon as was reasonable in the morning, Allison went to Julia’s house. Maybe Sam was not staying there, but at the very least, Julia should know where Sam was staying.

Julia and Gerald were having coffee. "I don't know where Sam is," Julia said. "She left a note saying she was taking the old car."

Allison had a cup of coffee with them. "I need to talk to her."

"Yes. Definitely. When Sam gets back, we'll make ourselves scarce."

"No, no. This is your house." Allison wrote where she was staying and her room number. "Please have Sam come here as soon as possible."

"You're not wearing your ring," Julia observed.

"It's at the hotel."

"Sam doesn't like Columbia much. Or New York City," Julia said. "Oh, it's okay, but you know Sam. She's picky. She's a home girl at heart. She got into Washington and Lee law. She could transfer there, I bet."

"Mmm," Allison said. Washington and Lee was about fifty miles away, the closest law school in the area.

"She misses her dad. She misses Allen. She misses you."

"I miss her too," Allison mumbled.

"Allison." Julia entwined their hands. "Are you going to marry Helen? Because if you are, I think you need to leave right now. Sam can't get her heart broken again."

Allison's body squeezed in anguish, and she met Julia's eyes. "I'm not marrying Helen. I don't think I ever was going to. We probably would've been at the altar, and I'd look into her face and all of a sudden, I'd realize she wasn't the one." Allison chuckled wryly. "Better this way."

Sam arrived five minutes later, and Julia and Gerald edged out of the kitchen. Allison took a small step, then another, in Sam's direction. She acknowledged her stepsister with a little nod and a little smile. Sam looked awful. Puffy eyes.

"I apologize for my behavior yesterday," Sam said. "I hope you and Helen will be happy. Congratulations."

"What behavior?"

Sam rubbed her forehead. "I don't know. The gift. I gave you and Helen something shitty. A five-dollar thing. I went out to get something better, but the mall's closed."

"Can we go somewhere and talk?"

"No need. FYI, I bought a plane ticket for this afternoon. I won’t be at the wedding. You’re safe."

"I missed you," Allison said. She wanted to take Sam's hand in hers, but that would have to wait until they were in the hotel room. "Please let me explain why I broke up with you."

"I know why you broke up with me."

"Yes, okay. But..." But what? Was Allison sure of what she was doing? Yes. You're sure.

"Where's your ring?" Sam asked, and she changed. A teeny bit. But she changed. Something hopeful, something slight, but something there, definitely there, entered her expression.

"We need to talk. Please."

*****

Sam drove to the Holiday Inn slower than was necessary. No ring. No ring. Why was Allison not wearing her ring? She had not called off the engagement, had she? Helen had everything. Sam had very little. She had maybe a hundred dollars in the bank, and lots of student loan debt. Yes, the truth was, Allison was very lucky to have Helen, and Sam might have ruined a perfectly good match for her stepsister.

Sam refused to allow herself to hope that maybe, just maybe, she and Allison could be together again.

In the hotel room, Allison asked why Sam went to see Bob.

"I don't know. Maybe because I'm pathetic."

"You're not pathetic."

"I am." Sam checked the clock. "I should go."

"We just got here."

"I should say goodbye to Allen before I fly out. Dad, too. And you better get ready to be married. There's no point in us being here. I'm cool. You're cool. I need to grow up. I need to grow the fuck up. You can do better than me. And you have with Helen. Congratulations, Allison. I really hope you and Helen will be happy."

"I never said no."

"What?"

"When you asked me to marry you. I never said no."

"You did."

"I said that us getting married would be crazy. But I didn’t say no."

"You didn’t say yes."

"I’m saying yes now. I love you. You've always been the one. My heart, my soul, will always belong to you. And it’s not polite to take back a proposal."

Sam stared, and her heart felt like it would implode.

Allison went on: "My mother got home early the day before we broke up. She saw us having sex, and she wasn't happy I was with you. Obviously. The next day, we got into a discussion about what might happen with Allen when I moved out. I wanted Allen to come with me, and I thought chances for that would be a lot better if I was the person my mother wanted me to be. Dumbass plan. Didn't work. I guess deep down inside, I figured you and I would work out. I didn't expect you to leave. And to pretty much never come back. You didn't fight for me. I didn't fight for you. What we had felt good. Too good. There had to be a catch, and when it appeared in the form of my mother, I gave in too easily."

Sam looked away. Crossed her arms. Allowed herself to breathe. Allison was right. If Sam had not run away, she and Allison would have worked things out. Sam realized that she, also, had been too happy with Allison, subconsciously waiting for the other shoe to drop. When it did, they both accepted it with barely a whimper.

What Sam wanted to do was go to the bathroom, sit on the edge of the tub, bury her face in her hands. Her heart refused to believe what her mind told her. She needed to get the hell away from Allison. The room had become hot and claustrophobic.

What Sam did was look back at Allison, and Allison searched her face. Sam wondered what Allison saw. Happiness? Some sort of piercing fear, maybe, or doubt, incredulity, something. Did Allison see nothingness, seemingly cool indifference?

"We're not the same people we are today as we were then," Allison continued. "We've changed. But I'm saying yes because I know who you are inside. We belong together. I'll do what I have to. Move to New York. Whatever. Anything for you."

The pain in Sam's heart was suddenly unbearable. What if Allison had not changed, what if she was being wishy-washy? "How do I know you won't want to marry Helen when you see her again?" Sam could not get back with Allison. They would only break up again eventually.

"I won't," Allison said. "I love her, yes, I do. But you're..." Allison gestured helplessly. "Don't you feel it? Don't you feel us?"

"I always have. You haven't," Sam snapped. "You wrote a shitty letter instead of coming to me in person!"

"What? I...I didn't think to go in person. Sam, Sam. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."

"You crushed me," Sam said. "I don't know how to explain it, but before you came into my life, it was like I didn't exist. And after we were over, I'd had a taste of heaven and I couldn't go back to nothingness. I wanted to make you happy. I wanted the world for you and for us. I thought maybe I hadn't made it clear to you how much I loved you and appreciated you. I thought of so many possible reasons why you broke up with me, why you let your mother do it, but I couldn't come up with anything. After a while, I stuck all my anger somewhere and buried it, letting it simmer. I thought I hated you. What you said was right. I was too happy with you and subconsciously waiting for the other shoe to drop. You know, but this isn't what I'm trying to say. I thought I'd moved on, but it's clear I haven't. I love you, Allison. I will always love you, no matter what. But you're with Helen. You love Helen. And that's okay. Please don't let me keep you from marrying her or keep you from being happy. Helen is great. If she makes you happy, then marry her."

Allison's eyes were wide and dismayed. "Sam, I love you. My future is with you."

Sam surveyed the room. Above the bed was a picture of the Mill Mountain Star. The star overlooked Roanoke, and Sam and Allison had gone up there a few times in Dino. "Do you remember when we went to the star?"

"Which time?"

"Any."

"I remember every time. Look, Sam, Helen and I were supposed to write our own vows," Allison said. "I tried to write mine last night. I couldn't, but you know what I was able to do? I wrote my vows for you. For us. You know what? We could do it now. Get married now. We don't need an official or witnesses or rings. Just you and me. "

Sam moistened her suddenly dry mouth. Those three words, those pained, truly sorrowful green eyes. I love you. Allison's pain was raw and naked. Sam thought about her life in New York, pretending she was happy with Kendra as a fuck mate, denying the obvious. Was that living? Allison was saying yes. Yes to marrying Sam. Marrying her today. It was too incredible, too farfetched. "I can't offer you much. I have student loans. That's it. Maybe a hundred dollars in the bank."

"You have you. And for once—" Allison chuckled—"I can take care of myself. I can afford an apartment and other stuff and...anyway. I can take care of you too. I'm serious, Sam. You see I'm serious."

Sam's hands trembled with eagerness, but she restrained herself. It could not be this easy, not after five long years. Her heartbeat throbbed in her ears, and she realized she and Allison had not touched each other, save for Allison patting Sam's shoulder last night to get Sam's attention.

Allison went to her, wrapped her arms around Sam. It was like they never had been apart. They were two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle reunited, and Sam loved the feel of Allison's body with hers again, loved Allison's smell. Allison kissed her, a trembling kiss, and buried her face in Sam's neck. Sam kept Allison in her arms a long time, a long, long time, because she never wanted to let go and because she was crying. Allison had seen Sam cry only that one time after Corny died, and that had mortified Sam. Now...well. Crying again.

Sam drew back, dried her tears, and felt a tiny smile poke through. "Really? You're serious?"

"Yes. Us getting married would be the craziest thing in the world, so let's do it. Let's get married."

Sam almost lost her nerve looking into Allison's beautiful face, into the depths of these green eyes. Sam's parents had gotten married without discussing the basics such as where they would live, and here Allison was, suggesting she and Sam marry after five years apart, with no discussion about...well, about whatever. About how they had changed, that sort of shit.

Jesus Christ, Sam. Just say yes already. Butterflies in Sam's stomach struggled to break free, and so did her tiny grin. With Sam's next words, she would seal her future, her fate, the rest of her life. "Okay," Sam said, and she grinned so broadly her face hurt. "Let's do it."

*****

So, Sam and Allison were married, in Room 204 of a Holiday Inn. Sam felt hazy, as if this really could not be happening, but at the same time, she knew it was, it was happening, and that this was the best day of her life. She tried to capture every moment in her mind so she would have them to tell Allen and her children with Allison.

Allison wore jeans and a green polo shirt that brought out her eyes. Sam wore sweat pants and an old T-shirt. Not the best wedding outfit, but so be it.

Sam had no idea what to say with her vows, but it turned out not to be a problem because Allison had researched all sorts of vows for her wedding with Helen. Allison brought up on her phone what Sam needed to say.

I consider it an honor and a privilege to be the one you have chosen as your life's mate. I promise to be a true and faithful wife, to love you, respect you and be honest with you always. I promise to be supportive of your goals and as you grow intellectually, emotionally and spiritually, I will be by your side rooting for you all the way. Never be afraid to confide in me. I promise to be a good listener and a safe confidant. You are always welcome in my innermost world, and I promise to share my goals and ideas with you. As we grow together throughout our marriage, there are no limitations on the possibilities of our relationship, and I hope we never realize just how high our high can be. I believe in you, and I will be there for you always.

"Wow," Sam commented. "This has enough cheese to cover four pizzas."

Allison laughed. "Delicious pizzas, I hope."

"The best. Are your vows cheesy?"

Allison indicated a space between her thumb and pointer finger. "Tiny bit." She grinned.

Sam returned the contagious grin. "My vows might be jealous if yours are cheesier."

"How jealous?"

"Oh my God. So jealous. You have no idea. They'd attack your vows in bed. Your vows wouldn't know what hit them."

Allison laughed and kissed Sam. Again and again and again. "I love you. I missed you so much."

"Do we get a honeymoon? A little one at least?"

"We're in a hotel room. In case you hadn't noticed."

"I need to shower first. I haven't showered since yesterday morning."

"Maybe we could together."

Sam's heart leaped at the prospect, and she grinned. "Great." She and Allison had never showered together, and Sam wondered what kind of lover Helen was and how Allison's lovemaking had changed. Had Helen and Allison showered together? Probably. However, Sam's jealousy was minimal. Allison was hers. Allison was going to be her wife.

Allison was smiling and radiant as she set a piece of paper on the bed. "I'll go first." She read: "My life changed when I met you. I was an intruder in your house, some strange person, but you welcomed me. You were patient with me as I learned sign. You challenged me, you tested me, you gave your heart over to me, and life became different. Deeper, richer. For the first time, I knew what love was, unconditional love. You accepted me, pros, cons, flaws and all. I didn't know what to do with that love. I'd never been loved like that, and I wasn't sure I deserved it. I wanted to be worthy of you, and today I hope I am. I give myself to you. We're going places. Great places." A nervous smile. "Okay, damn, that isn't too good after all. Your vows are better."

Sam's heart melted. I love you, Allison. "Hey. No frowny." Sam stroked Allison's cheek with her thumb. "Don't dis your vows. I love them. And I love you."

*****

Sam was as nervous as she could remember being. Possibly more nervous than the first time she and Allison made love. She tested the temperature of the shower water and adjusted it. Then she swallowed and turned back to Allison. Allison, naked. Allison, Sam's wife. Allison, her body simply...amazing. Stunning. As always. This was a sight Sam had missed desperately, and the puddle between her legs was evidence.

"Let me feel the water," Allison said. She brushed past Sam, her touch sending tremors through Sam's body.

"Water's fine," Allison declared.

They stepped in, got their hair wet, entwined their bodies. Sam kissed the tip of Allison's nose, then her eyes, her chin, her cheeks, and her mouth. Allison responded with a kiss, a slow, thoughtful kiss that became less slow and less thoughtful as their hips, their need, pressed into each other.

This. Yes. Sam could not believe she had actually been encouraging Allison to marry Helen.

Allison sucked one of Sam's nipples with a tantalizing possessiveness, and Sam moaned. She guided Allison's hand to her pussy, and Allison entered her.

Jesus. Jesus. Sam's knees were wobbly. She was going to be like an old person and break her hip in the shower. Oh well. If she was going to break every bone in her body, she might as well do it in style. Allison kept herself inside Sam, and they moved together. My wife, Sam thought. This is my wife.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

"Like it?" Allison surveyed Allen as he took in the five-story apartment building.

Allen smiled. "It looks good so far." On the drive over, Allison had described the interior of the place, the measurements of what would be Allen's bedroom, the perks of the facility: swimming pool, laundry inside the unit and so forth. "They even allow pets under twenty pounds," Allison had added proudly.

"This is cool," Allen murmured as they entered the lobby. It was spacious and tastefully decorated. They stopped in the front office and got a key.

"The view is great," Allison said. "Did I tell you there's a park a few blocks down? It has a basketball court, baseball field, all kinds of stuff. Swings, too. I really hope you like your room. Decorate it any way you want."

They walked to the fourth floor. "It's 410." Allison led Allen to the apartment. "Open up."

Allen unlocked the door and stepped inside. He whistled in approval. "Cool."

Allison grabbed his hand for the grand tour. The last stop was his room, and he surveyed it with a critical eye.

"Well?" Allison ventured a nervous glance.

"Oh, Al. Don't worry. It's awesome."

Allison exhaled a jittery breath. "Just want you to be happy. Okay, so this is the place? I can sign the lease?"

Allen's gaze dropped to the new ring on Allison's finger. "Yep. I'm happy for you and Sam."

Allison laughed. "I need your help though. We need to get on Sam's case about moving in next month. I'm afraid we'll have to drag her out kicking and screaming. She and Beau are having too much fun playing pranks on Barry."

Allison had gotten a temporary apartment and had taken a few weeks to find a good, more-permanent place for her, Sam and Allen. The joint custody arrangement with Allen would continue. Sam had moved back to the area in May right when her law school classes ended, but she wanted to work on her relationship with her father and give Allison time to live alone. So they'd agreed Sam would move in with Allison at the end of July. This apartment complex was about halfway between Washington and Lee and Allison's work. They'd have a thirty-minute to forty-minute drive one way. Tolerable, and it would only have to be for about a year.

"Let's play a prank on Sam," Allen suggested. "Her and Beau. We can get Barry to help us. I bet he has a lot of ideas."

Allison grinned. "I like that thought."

*****

The next week, Allison knocked on the Cannizarro door and waited for someone to answer. She had not rung the doorbell because she wanted to sneak up on Sam, if possible. Flashing lights would give her away.

Allison waited. No answer. She tried the doorknob, but it was locked. Her key, of course, was at the apartment. No biggie. She was in a good mood with her surprise for Sam.

Allison spied a pair of gray eyes staring at her through one of the windows next to the door. She smiled at Beau. "Let me in, please?"

The boy shook his head and stuck his tongue out. Allison groaned and knocked once more.

A few seconds later, Barry answered. "Come on in." He turned to his son. "Beau! Why didn't you open the door for your sister?"

"I ain't supposa let strangers in."

"She's not a stranger. She's your sister! Apologize."

"No." Beau crossed his arms.

Barry crouched to Beau's eye level. "You will apologize. Now. Say I'm sorry."

"No."

"Okay, fine. Be that way. No TV for you tonight."

"Don't care."

"No dessert after dinner either. No bedtime story. You'll go straight to bed after supper."

"Don't care. Don't wanna."

"I'll tell Sammy no more copter rides for you."

Beau's eyes widened. He thought. And thought. Finally: "She give them to me anyway!"

Barry squeezed his son's shoulder. "How difficult can it be to say sorry?"

Beau plopped onto the floor and balled his hands into fists. "No. You can't make me."

"Let's go to your room right now." Barry picked up the boy and started for the second floor. Beau grabbed hold of the banister and kicked and screamed.

Allison studied the scene in amusement. Barry made unsuccessful attempts to disentangle his rebellious child from the railing. Finally, Barry pried Beau's fingers off and held him tightly for the trip up. Barry returned in a moment, sighing.

Allison giggled. "Stubborn little one, isn't he."

"Impossible is more like it. But you think that's bad, you should've seen Sam sometimes as a kid. Makes Beau seem like an angel. Anyhow, I guess you're here to see Sam? She's in the basement working out." Barry inclined his head toward the door that led to the basement. "I'm going to make dinner if you're interested."

"Sam and I have plans, but thanks."

"What y'all going to do?"

"Just dinner and hang out at the apartment. She'll probably sleep over again."

A small smile tugged at the corners of Barry’s mouth. "I've never seen her happier. Never seen you happier either, sweetie."

Allison hugged the big man. She made her way downstairs. Sam was in the middle of a marital arts workout, and Allison paused to watch. Sam was as graceful as a panther, moving through the basement with feline grace and skill. She stopped when she detected her visitor, and her stern face turned into a smile. "Hey!"

Allison jumped into Sam's arms. They held each other for a few moments, savoring each other's essence.

"I love sweaty women," Allison said.

"Women? In the plural? I gotta beat them up."

"There's something we have to do before that." Allison grinned self-consciously. Time for the surprise. A trench coat would have been ideal, except for the July heat. However, Allison had found a perfect sundress. She pulled her dress over her head and let it fall to the floor.

Sam's eyes widened, and an appreciative smile, almost a leer, crossed her features.

"Let's play a little." Allison wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. She gazed over her own body. No underwear, no bra, no nothing. But swollen, erect nipples. Flat stomach. A pussy ready for the taking.

"Hell, yeah," Sam said. "I wanna tap that."

"Your words make me swoon."

Sam carried Allison to the couch, and Allison felt her wetness beginning. She breathed lightly between parted lips as Sam explored her body. Please. Don't be in a teasing mood.

Sam looked up. She grinned. "Is there a fire?"

Allison swatted her. "You bet there's a fire."

Epilogue: One Year Later

Sam could not believe it. Her father and Her Evil Highness had renewed their wedding vows. Barry and Susan had been on a good path lately. They'd patched things up. So, yet another wedding. The wedding had been tiny—Sam, Allison, Allen and Beau were the only witnesses.

Sam was happy for her father and stepmother, although she doubted she and Susan would ever get along completely. And Sam would never be comfortable seeing her father and Susan hug and kiss each other. However, Barry and Susan would never be comfortable seeing her and Allison hugging and kissing each other. Fair was fair. Ah well.

Right now, the family was at a restaurant, and it was about an hour after the wedding. Barry was sharp in a dark double-breasted suit and polished wingtips. He kept sneaking Susan proud beams, and Sam had to admit her father was cute, absolutely adorable. Susan, not so much. She'd had a facelift, and it made Susan look unnatural. Susan loved it, though, and Allison told Sam that, yes, the facelift was good.

Things were great between Barry and Sam. He had relearned sign industriously and was almost as good as Allison and Julia. Susan was, well, she had her way of mouthing and doing Susan-signs. The good thing was, more often than not, the Susan-signs were the right signs.

"So," Barry asked Sam, "When will your legal wedding be?"

"Aw, no. Do I have to make an honest woman out of her?"

Allison laughed and squeezed Sam's knee. "Soon, soon."

THE END

CHECK OUT Q. KELLY'S OTHER BOOKS,

AVAILABLE IN E-BOOK AND PAPERBACK

Waiting: Caris Ismay, 30, is falling in love with a woman she dares not pursue, and at exactly the wrong time. Caris knew that life after having her baby would be different, especially since her wife did not love her anymore. But Caris never expected post-baby life to be this difficult. Dale, her wife of three years, is in a coma that turns into a vegetative state. Lena, Dale's 29-year-old daughter, is put in the awkward position of revealing Dale's secrets to Caris.

Caris and Lena share a perfect, passionate kiss that they cannot stop thinking about. Plus, they can help each other in ways no one else can. They try to build a friendship, but their growing attraction gets in the way. Can Caris and Lena move past the taboo of their attraction and find their path together?

*****

Strange Bedfellows: What happens when the queen of the ex-gay movement decides to come out of the closet? The person who helps Frances Dourne with this enormous task is a call girl Frances hires. A call girl with a secret of her own. Can they learn to trust each other enough to find the love they seek in each other's arms?

Frances is grappling with something else, too. Her daughter, Marissa, has been gone 11 years. She was kidnapped by her father on her third birthday. Frances hopes her coming out will ease the way for Marissa's return.

*****

The Odd Couple: Morrisey Hawthorne and her four-year-old son, Gareth, have a pretty good life. Then one day they meet Charlene Sudsbury, who is trying to move on from the suicide of her son, JP, three years before. Gareth is nearly the mirror image of JP, and Charlene connects instantly with him. Not quite so with Morrisey, who can't escape fast enough after Charlene shows her a picture of JP. Charlene is convinced Morrisey is hiding something and sets out in search of the truth.

Despite the circumstances, the two women form an unusual bond and end up with a lot more than they bargained for. But when an old friend of JP's resurfaces, he challenges the fragile trust Morrisey and Charlene have been building.

Can these two women overcome the obstacles that separate them from the happiness they seek?

*****

The Old Woman and Other Lesbian Stories: Nine short stories are in this compilation. The lead story is "The Old Woman."

The Old Woman: Jessica is a pretty good best friend, but she goes too far when she dares Rachel to ask an old woman on a date. Rachel has no choice; otherwise Jessica will do the asking, and Rachel has no intention of humiliating the old woman. Turns out maybe Jessica's idea was not so bad after all. There is a lot more to Ada than her age.

Funeral: Olivia takes a drastic step to combat lesbian bed death.

The Lesbian Curse: Becky and Katy are in middle school and tussling over a boy. Becky curses Katy, saying Katy will become a lesbian.

Polly Wanna Cracker: Polly is a bird. A parrot, to be exact. She follows the goings-on of her human family, especially Faye, the daughter, and Glenda, the mother. Polly knows their secrets too. Will Polly spill the beans when she finds herself able to talk after bonking her head against a window?

What Girlfriend?: Bobbie hopes her one-night stand won't pull the U-Haul trick.

Haunted: Haunted people? Sure, they're everywhere. Haunted houses? Oooh, spooky. Good movie fodder. Excellent for campfire scares. Haunted cars? They’re not unheard of. But haunted pens? Yep, they exist, as Linda and Victoria find out when such a pen brings them together.

Fortune: Best friends Jackie and Emma go to a fortune teller. Emma is shocked when the teller reveals to Jackie that Emma is her secret admirer.

Lili from the Future: It's a dream many people have; your future self visits you and fucks you.

Lizzie: Twelve-year-old Shel is not sure if her best friend means it when he says he's going to kill a person.

*****

Miss Lucy Parker and Other Short Stories: Seven short stories are in this compilation. The lead story is "Miss Lucy Parker."

"Miss Lucy Parker" Miss Lucy Parker is a prim, proper elderly lady. When a Volkswagen Beetle—the new kind, and pink—PINK!—turns onto the winding road that leads to Lucy's farmhouse, Lucy is sure the car's occupants are lost. And that the car contains hippies, because hippies drive Volkswagen Beetles. Lucy plans to tell the hippies to get lost. She has no need for their odd speech, beads and marijuana aroma. Except hippies are not in the car. A woman is, a woman wearing a short, blood-red dress that hugs her body. Thus begins Lucy Parker's great adventure.

"A Weird Situation" Karen does not believe her boyfriend when he tells her that he turns into a woman for seven hours every day.

"The Interview" The person interviewing Debby has a giant booger. Should she tell him and risk not getting the job?

"First Day at Work" A security guard's first day at a bank has repercussions for him and three workers.

"Every Day" A man struggles every day to follow through on a promise to himself.

"The Doctor" A doctor salivates at the prospect of delivering bad news to a twelve-year-old girl and her mother.

"Guardian Angel" Gabriel fancies himself a guardian angel. But is he really?

Check Q. Kelly out at http://qkelly.blogspot.com

and at http://qkelly.wordpress.com

Email her at yllek_q@yahoo.com