Warnings/Spoilers: Modern AU.
Disclaimer: No, don't own Lancer.

~#~#~#~

Standing inside the workshop door, Theresa watched Murdoch pound his frustrations out on whatever it was he was making or fixing. She wouldn't have bet on the project's survival given the way the hammer was slamming down. "Murdoch, it'll be okay."

He continued to work, not even looking up at her. "Sorry?"

She stepped inside. "Scott's grandfather visiting."

Setting the tools down, Murdoch faced her. "I'm not worried about the visit."

Snorting, she walked over to lean against the workbench. "That's probably true, but you are worried. It'll be hard to see the man who kept Scott from you." A startled look was thrown her way. "You think I don't know if there was a way that you wouldn't have had Scott with you?"

Murdoch returned to his mangled project.

Theresa had questions – lots of them. She knew Scott and Johnny had some of their own. Maybe this afternoon, they would have some answers.

~#~#~#~

In spite of the questions and doubts that plagued him some nights, Scott looked forward to his grandfather's visit. And there was some guilt. He had done a better job of staying in touch with Harlan when he was in the service than he had since arriving at Lancer.

"You miss him?"

Scott turned to Johnny, who didn't look away from the heavy morning traffic. "Yes, I do."

"But you have questions."

And Scott needed the answers. "As do you."

"I'm making a list. Starting off with Gabriel and then it's Murdoch's turn."

"Mind if I share that approach?"

"Go ahead." Johnny drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "We sharing what we find out?"

"I hadn't thought that far ahead." Scott couldn't get past what Harlan's possible reasons were for not telling him about Johnny. "Yeah, I think I'd like to compare notes." He couldn't help but wonder how different—or close—their situations really were.

~#~#~#~

Johnny had an idea in his head what Harlan Garrett would look like. With the label of grandfather, he associated white or gray hair, small stature, and a welcoming grin. But then the only grandfather he had ever known was Gabriel's father.

"Grandfather!"

Scott pulled away from him and headed towards a tall man, almost as tall as Murdoch, who turned at the call. Johnny would never admit it, but his first impression of Harlan Garrett said this was a calculating, shrewd man.

"Scotty." Harlan Garrett reached out a hand to shake his grandson's.

Scotty? That was prime teasing material even if the word did grate on Johnny's ears. And he couldn't imagine his abuelo letting him off with a simple handshake. The old man squeezed the stuffing out of him whenever he could, and Johnny loved it and him.

There was affection there, on both sides. Harlan looked Scott over. "You've been touched by the sun, I see."

"There's a little more of it here than in Boston. I like it."

"Yes, I assumed that since you failed to return home."

Johnny wouldn't have noticed that slight tension in Scott a couple of months ago.

"It'll be awhile before I return to Boston. There's a lot for me to do here."

And back was the calculating, shrewd man. "Well, we'll see."

Scott turned towards Johnny as he walked up. "Johnny."

"Well, this must be Scotty's half brother, Johnny Madrid."

What the hell?

Johnny shook Harlan's hand. "I use Madrid for my professional name. For my personal life, Lancer."

"Forgive me, of course."

Of course.

"Now, your mother, she was a foreigner, wasn't she?"

Old man knew what things to say to get him on edge. What had Scott told him?

"She was from Mexico."

"Yes, I understand she was a very lovely woman."

How had he come to that understanding? Scott wore an odd expression; one that Johnny liked to think meant that his brother didn't have any idea of where Garrett was coming up with Johnny's history.

"I think we better be going, sir. Where is your luggage coming in?"

"Yes, we should. However, I have more than luggage with me."

Johnny couldn't wait to see what was next.

~#~#~#~

Scott's hands froze, body braced. Tilting his head, he tried to find the source of the sound. To weed it out from the echo of people and luggage. And now he heard laughter, female and seductive.

His eyes turned to service counter. Most of her body was obscured by the large security warning sign, but he knew what she looked like. Oh, did he remember. A pretty oval face, with an old-fashioned roses and cream complexion, a wide painted mouth, big brown eyes with just a hint of impatience and a swing of coffee-colored hair.

His gaze lowered, scanned, then lifted again. Julie. He expelled a hard breath. Feelings came tumbling back. And all of them wrapped around a five-six package of curves. That particular box had been shoved down so deep it was a mere afterthought these past few years. But maybe not deep enough.

An insistent tap on his elbow brought his thoughts around.

Johnny whispered into his ear. "Who is she?"

Scott shot a look to his grandfather.

"Surprise, Scotty." He wriggled his white eyebrows. "Aren't you going to say hello?"

He took two steps to the counter when she turned, her smile broad.

"Julie, I can't believe it's you."

"It's me."

"Seeing you here, especially after…you didn't answer my calls."

"I wanted to Scott, but…"

"But what?"

She raised a finger to his lips. "Shh, let's not talk about it here." Then her lips replaced the finger.

"Hey. Hello. So, Scott, I'm taking it you know this lady?" Johnny rolled back on his heels, an idiot grin on his face.

He pulled back, but not before feeling her softness against his arm. She felt so good in his arms. Still so damn good.

"Since my brother seems to be—distracted—let me introduce myself. Johnny Lancer."

The curiosity in Julie's eyes deepened. "You never told me you had a brother."

"I didn't know." Scott resisted the urge to look at Grandfather. "There's a lot of things…I didn't know." And this time he sent a glance in the old man's direction.

"Johnny, this is Julie Dennison. A friend from Boston."

Johnny's grin widened. "Yeah, I can see that."

Scott decided then and there days of keeping secrets were over. "We were engaged to be married."

"What? Wow." Johnny recovered faster than Scott gave him credit for. "Now I know why Scott liked Boston so much. It couldn't just be the lousy baseball team."

The feelings that surfaced soured his stomach. Once upon a time he and Julie had been engaged—back when he thought he knew what he wanted. What did he want now?

~#~#~#~

Harlan sat up front with Johnny – had insisted that Scott and Julie sit in the rear seat to reconnect. His grandfather added a word here and there, but seemed content to allow the time for Scott and Julie.

Scott remembered his grandfather was less than happy when he and Julie had announced their engagement, that they were too young. Maybe time had mellowed him.

They covered the safe topics of who was doing what, who was married, and what minor scandals mutual friends had gotten themselves into. No mention of why Julie was with Harlan. Scott would ask that when they had a moment to themselves.

Seeing where they were, Scott leaned towards the front seat. "Johnny, stop up at the curve."

Johnny didn't ask and Scott figured he knew the why behind the request. He pulled off to the side. Scott was out of the car before the car was shut off.

Harlan stepped out of the car looked around at the open vista. "Lancer?"

Scott nodded as he came to stand between Harlan and Julie. "From here all the way to the mountains."

"I've never seen it and yet I know it so well." Harlan's face looked troubled. "It's where a naïve young girl searched for foolish dreams."

Not for the first time, Scott's curiosity turned to Catherine Lancer, wondering what she must have been like. But he was sure of one thing. "She came out because she loved Murdoch and wanted to share her life with him."

"Share in what? What drove him so hard that makes him put ambition above all else – even his family?"

That didn't make sense. From what he and Johnny had learned, Murdoch was making his way in business long before he was married. "Murdoch didn't have a family when he started out here."

"He had to force himself to make the trade."

"What trade?"

"I raised you, Scott. Not Murdoch. I took care of you for over twenty years while he was carving out his little empire."

As a boy, Scott had never forgotten it. Any time there were events for fathers and sons, he was forever reminded that he didn't have a father. "With all due respect, sir. I've tried to show my gratitude."

Harlan's face hardened. "I don't want your gratitude." He shook off the look. "Forgive me. I'm becoming maudlin in my old age. Shall we move on?"

The drive was quiet the rest of the way, but Julie reached out to clasp Scott's hand.

~#~#~#~

"Harlan, welcome to Lancer." Murdoch used the same tone when meeting with a business acquaintance: polite, reserved, and professional. Johnny wasn't sure what he expected, but after that conversation in the car, anything was possible.

Harlan looked around the great room. "I find myself surprised to be here, Murdoch."

"I imagine you do." Murdoch turned to Scott and Julie.

Scott guided Julie closer to Murdoch. "Murdoch, this is Julie Dennison. Julie, this is my father, Murdoch Lancer."

"Scotty's fiancé not so long ago." That shrewd, calculating look was back.

Murdoch's glance to Harlan was sharp, but he smiled as he turned back. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Dennison."

"Julie, please." She shook his hand. "I'm excited to see what has kept Scott out in California. It's so beautiful, Mr. Lancer."

"And it's Murdoch." He nodded towards Scott. "I'm sure my son will be more than happy to show you around. Do you ride, Julie?"

"Yes, I do. It's how Scott and I met as children. We took lessons together."

"I'd like to hear more about that." Murdoch slipped Julie's hand into the crook of his arm in a move so smooth Johnny was awed. "It's a pleasant surprise to have you stay with us. Let me show you to your room and you can settle in before dinner." Murdoch led the way with Scott following, toting Julie's luggage.

Walking behind Harlan's with the old man's suitcases, Johnny felt he had just watched act one of a play. He couldn't wait to see how dinner would play out.

One thing that was easy to see: Scott still had feelings for Julie Dennison.

~#~#~#~

Ten minutes of mindless chatter about the preserve and, God help them, the weather, left Scott feeling antsy. He cocked an eyebrow at his father. Murdoch caught his look and smiled, making a paltry excuse to leave the room.

He fiddled with the expensive luggage tag on Julie's bag. "So why are you here?"

"Can't I visit an old friend?"

His head snapped up. "I've been relegated to the 'old friend' category?"

"Rather cross, aren't we?"

"Anger seems to be warranted in this situation."

Julie's full lips had formed into a pout. "Why?"

"You have got to be kidding. After what happened?"

She rounded on him and he took a step back, feeling the wall against his back. The edge of a picture frame dug into left shoulder blade. "And just what did happen, Scott? A marriage proposal from a man who wasn't home half the time?"

"You knew I had a commitment in the Army."

"We both had other commitments. You of all people should know about such obligations." She ran her hand down his chest, making the old scars under his shirt jump and twitch. "And after that horrible accident in Honduras…you knew I wasn't cut out to be a soldier's wife."

He pushed her hand away. "You ran back to daddy's firm."

She turned and gave a small wave. "Like I said…obligations."

Her eyes closed and Scott thought she looked fragile, not at all like the woman who could elevate verbal sparring to an art. He waited.

"It was a mistake, you know. Giving you up." Her smile was wan. "Because by the time I figured it all out, you were hooking up with other women – a lot of other women. Then gone completely—to here."

Something shifted inside of him. "I would have taken you back, Julie."

"My mantra always seems to be a day late and a dollar short." She pinned him with a stare. "What if I said I'd like to rectify my mistake?"

He looked into her brown eyes, so full of shadows, and surprised them both by tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"I can make it up to you, Scott, if you'll let me."

He bent his head and brushed his lips against hers, testing them both.

~#~#~#~

Act two thrilled and held as much tension as act one. Johnny wasn't the only one to notice it.

Placing her napkin down, Teresa stood up. "Have a wonderful evening everyone. I need to hit the books if I want to pass tomorrow's exam. Good-night."

Johnny couldn't remember a time he felt jealousy over missing the chance to do homework. He was running into a lot of firsts today.

As Teresa passed by, he felt a comforting pat on his shoulder. She walked away to well-wishes and good-nights before the conversation turned back to reminisces of Boston, business, and sheer boredom.

He had to give Scott credit for trying to ease the conversation between Harlan and Murdoch, but a lot of unspoken old history fouled every attempt even if nothing overt was ever said.

Johnny skipped desert and headed to the workout barn, praying the entire way that Gabriel's upcoming visit would be a lot less agonizing. At the rate he was losing his appetite, he was going to starve.

~#~#~#~

The night was clear as crystal. One of the old-time lanterns Murdoch liked to keep around the back veranda was lit, throwing off a muted yellow glow. Scott caught up the handle and turned the wick down even lower.

"It's quiet out here."

He turned and saw Julie, outlined by the light from inside the house. "It takes a while getting used to. At least it did for me."

She had brought out their wine glasses, refilled with Lancer's best burgundy. Offering one to him she raised hers in a mock salute.

"Here's to old friends."

Hesitating, he smiled. "Back to friends?"

She seemed in thought for a moment then sipped from her glass. "Why stay in the middle of nowhere, Scott?"

He checked out her view. The black-looking mountains looming in the distance, the long valley with its firefly lights bobbing to and fro, and the millions of stars winking in the clear sky. It was all good.

"I like it here."

"You liked it in Boston—once."

"I still do, but here is…different, somehow."

He placed his wineglass down and pulled the glass from her hand.

"Julie…"

She turned and her mouth opened to his, hungry. She angled and went deeper, one hand fisted in his hair. She molded to him and he was painfully aware of every curve she possessed.

A man could get lost in those curves—and he had, a long time ago.

~#~#~#~

Absence did not make the heart grow fonder. Murdoch held his tongue until he and Harlan were alone in the great room.

Opening one of the french doors to allow in some fresh air, Murdoch turned back to Harlan. "Let's not waste any more of each other's time, Harlan. What do you hope to accomplish by coming here?"

"That's not very hospitable, Murdoch. You invited me."

"I'm not feeling very hospitable at the moment."

"Surely we can manage a friendly conversation."

"Why? Our last conversation wasn't like that…nor were any of the ones before."

Harlan strolled around the room. "Perhaps you're right, but that was years ago. Any differences between us are finished and done with."

"Are they?"

"There's nothing to be gained by hostility, Murdoch. You have your two sons by your side, successful businesses, well, everything you want." Harlan picked up a book, leafed through it before setting it down again. His attention remained on the other items on the table.

"That takes care of me. Now what about you – what do you want?"

Harlan's hand closed around a framed photo. One that Murdoch had spent hours looking at. "Dear Catherine. I don't remember this picture."

"One of the mementos you left behind along with her luggage and—her."

Harlan brushed his hand over the glass. "She was the only thing of real value in my life."

Anger surged, unchecked. "The only thing? What about Scott - where does he register on that scale?"

"Catherine was my daughter."

"She was my wife and the mother of my son!"

"I did what I thought was best. She was my responsibility."

"To kill her?"

Harlan set down the photo. "You have no right to say that."

"I have every right. At the first sign of her discomfort, you should have taken her to the hospital."

"She was in danger."

"No, she wasn't. That's why I asked you to meet her in Cartersville – to have her father with her. Not to drag her off to the airport to fly back to Boston. If she hadn't been moved."

"Her pregnancy was difficult. She needed the expertise that a Boston physician could provide her."

"She wasn't to fly and I know she told you that."

"Doesn't matter, we didn't make the flight anyway."

Old pain knifed hard in Murdoch's chest. "No, she didn't."

"I only wanted what was best for Catherine."

"You wanted what was best for you."

"That's all in the past."

"Not for me it isn't. It's here, right now. You kept my son away from me for twenty-four years!"

"And what could you have done for Scotty? You didn't have two pennies to rub together."

"He was still my son."

"The law disagreed. I'm the one who raised him. I'm the one he belongs to."

Finally, they were getting down to it. Not that it came as any surprise to Murdoch. "Now it makes sense."

"Really?"

"Yes, you want to take Scott back to Boston with you, don't you? The ex-fiancé – the memories – all very convincing arguments."

"Scotty has a legacy waiting for him in Boston, an estate of considerable worth."

"And he has that here."

"To share with his half -Mexican brother!"

Murdoch crowded into Harlan's personal space. "You did not seriously just say that. Are you stuck in the 1900's?"

"Perhaps, but there's no comparison between what each of us can give Scotty. He belongs in he world he grew up in, with the right people…"

"You are stuck in the 1900's."

"…Where he can make something worthwhile of his life." Harlan stepped away.

No doubt under Harlan's ongoing guidance. "You're forgetting, Harlan. He's not a child anymore. He's a grown man with a will of his own who has spent much of his adult years away from you."

"I believe he can be persuaded."

"I doubt it. He's stubborn as they come and knows his own mind."

"I'm sure, Murdoch, that you could sway Scotty to stay by revealing your own warped version of the past – unless you've already done so."

"I've never thought I had to."

Harlan looked relieved. "Then we can make a bargain. Whether Scotty returns to Boston or not must be his decision without any outside influence – not yours – not mine. Agreed, Murdoch?"

More of Harlan's bargains, but Murdoch didn't want to visit the painful past on his son. There was no point to it. "Agreed."

"Good."

Good? That was debatable.

"I believe I'll turn in. It's been a long day." Harlan took one last glance at Catherine's photo as he left the room.

Murdoch slumped down into the sofa. Not even a day with Harlan Garrett and he was ready to send the man back to Boston.

~#~#~#~

Throwing her hair up into a ponytail, Teresa soft-footed it down the back stairs into the kitchen. She heard bedroom doors closing and the house fall into the quiet it does in the late evening. Hungry now in the way she hadn't been at dinner, she decided that the apple pie she turned down earlier would work fine in relieving that. Turned out she wasn't alone in that thought. Johnny was at the counter cutting out a liberal piece as she entered.

"Cut me one just as big." Teresa headed for the freezer and pulled out the vanilla bean ice cream. "Ice cream?"

"Definitely." Johnny pulled out another clean plate from the dishwasher along with spoons. "Couple of scoops at least."

"At least." She felt the warmth radiating from the pie and grinned. "Yum, warm pie. Good planning."

He smiled over at her and took the scoop from her hand. "Grab some napkins? I'll finish this up."

"You just want to lick the spoon."

"That too."

Teresa met him at the table and sighed when warm apple and cold ice cream melted in her mouth.

"Dinner really sucked."

Johnny swallowed. "Yeah, it really did."

~#~#~#~

Citing business, Harlan borrowed a car to make a trip into town early in the morning – before most had woken.

Approaching the front desk of the hotel, the receptionist met him with a canned smile. "My name is Garrett. Has anyone asked for me?"

"Oh, yes, Mr. Garrett." He stepped out from behind the desk. "Two gentleman are waiting for you in the dining room. This way, please." He pointed out a couple of men seated at a far table.

"Thank you." Harlan watched the receptionist leave the almost empty dining room before making his way to the table. "Gentleman."

"Harlan Garrett?"

"That's correct."

Standing, the taller one held out his hand. "I'm Carl Degan." He gestured to the man still seated, giving him a nudge. "This is my brother, Will."

Will shook his hand. Harlan gestured for them to be seated again as he took a seat himself.

"We're here, as you asked. What now?"

"Nothing at the moment. Stay here until I need you. With any luck, you gentlemen will have a nice stay and that will be the end of it."

"This is an expensive trip for us to do nothing." Carl met Harlan's eyes. "We came on faith, Mr. Garrett."

Harlan pulled out his wallet from his suit coat. "And I appreciate that." He pulled out a few large bills, leaving more cash alone. He held it out to Carl. "This will cover your expenses."

Will looked at the cash. "We were promised more than that."

"I've just said that is for your expenses. You'll receive your payment when you've completed the job I hired you for."

The younger brother had a perpetual scowl on his face. "Don't seem like much after coming all this way."

Having expected this, Harlan was glad to have it out in the open. "The price was agreed upon. It remains as is." Harlan stood up from the table.

Carl stood as well, slapping his hand down on the table. "Mr. Garrett, wouldn't want you to think we was greedy or anything, but testifying against a man on a murder charge ain't something you do everyday, you know."

Harlan wasn't intimidated. Carl Degan had put on a show of civility to start, but showed his true colors. The Degans would do as he asked if they wanted to be paid at all. "Well, perhaps that won't be necessary. However, if I need you, I'll be in touch. Either way you will be well compensated for your time."

As he left, he could hear them counting out the money. Sometimes the people he had to deal with were less than desirable.

Hurrying, he left the hotel. He needed to return to Lancer by breakfast.

~#~#~#~

Johnny rose early unable to sleep. He took his time getting set for the day, and was still ready to go earlier than usual. As he was walking down the hall, his brother's bedroom door swung open and Scott stopped short seeing him there.

"Good morning."

Johnny raised his brows at the very relaxed, very content demeanor that his brother oozed. "I bet it is."

Scott's smile grew and sniffed the air. "Breakfast? I am starving."

"Yeah, I'm sure you are."

"Don't be jealous."

"I'll work on it," Johnny said, laughing. "Where's Julie?"

"Sleeping in." Scott glanced away, tension evident. "Which is good. I'd like to take grandfather out. We need some time to talk."

"He'll probably like that." But Johnny had to wonder given how the old man arranged it so Scott and Julie were together at every opportunity.

~#~#~#~

"Grandfather." It was a soft ode to the elderly man picking about the knick-knacks on the great room shelf. "We need to talk."

Harlan lifted his eyebrow, revealing a flicker of amusement. "About what, my dear boy?"

The look heralded the start of the game—and a role Scott felt entirely too comfortable in playing. Until now. He shook his head. "Not here. Let's go for a drive. Besides I want to show you Lancer."

He was studied by clear grey eyes until it made him uncomfortable—Grandfather always had a way of getting under his skin.

"Yes, I believe I would like that, Scotty."

He reached for the car keys on the table.

~#~#~#~

Murdoch watched as Scott and Harlan made their way to the Jeep. Scott's posture had that stiff, braced look like he was preparing for something. A number of times in the past couple of weeks, his son had looked distracted and troubled, something on his mind. Murdoch had wondered if the questions would start, but Scott had held back.

Now, he thought maybe Scott had waited for Harlan before asking those questions.

Harlan had answers, loads of them, but Murdoch had his doubts that much truth rested in them.

~#~#~#~

Parked on an overlook, the view opened up all the way to the mountains. Harlan listened to him describe the valley and preserve without interruption. Out of conversation, Scott took a deep breath to quiet the ever-increasing thrum located right above his belt buckle. He fidgeted with the steering column feeling the ridged edges at ten and two.

"Murdoch…"

Harlan harrumphed and locked his gaze out the window. "Let's not go down that pathway."

"Now, of all time, is the right time. You're here at Lancer because of him."

"I could have just as easily stayed in town."

"But you didn't."

There was a faint sigh, barely heard over the birds, as Harlan studied his veined hands. "You took off so abruptly, there was no time to think."

"You have my phone number."

Harlan turned in his seat. "You didn't tell me because you didn't think it any of my concern. You didn't want me involved. This was a major decision..."

"I've been making my own choices for a while, first at Harvard then the Army."

"You interrupted me. I was going to say that this was a major decision…in your life. Apparently the man who raised you for the last twenty-five years couldn't be involved."

Scott bristled. Why was it so many of their conversations boiled down to this? "I needed time to work things out."

Harlan shrugged. "Your life…not mine."

"What's the real answer, Grandfather?"

"I wanted to see you. I…miss you."

"I didn't think you'd understand." Scott squirmed in his seat. That wasn't entirely true. He hopped on the plane from Boston to California that night because he just didn't want the drama involved in a confrontation. Would they be here now, if he had stopped to simply talk with his grandfather?

"Ah well, what's done is done, eh?"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"We make out own future, Scotty. Including your father. Why do you think he sent for you? A failing business, two failed marriages, and a host of other questionable situations. And he's dragged you into it."

Scott ignored the heavy-handed jibe. It was pointless to argue, that much he did know. But he needed a guarantee, if not for his sake for his father's. "You'll at least be civil?"

"I'm a smart businessman, Scotty, you should know I never give promises I can't keep." Harlan relaxed back into the seat and closed his eyes. "I'm very tired now. I'd like to go back."

And there went any chance of asking what Harlan had known about Johnny.

~#~#~#~

Relieved for the interruption to his spiraling thoughts, Murdoch opened the front door thinking it would be an employee, but a stranger stood there. A man around his age, with gray edging out the dark hair by his temples and forehead.

"Murdoch Lancer?"

"Yes."

"My name is Gabriel Madrid."

Murdoch's initial response was hysterical laughter. He choked it back only to see the puzzled expression on Gabriel Madrid's face. The second was the overwhelming urge to plant a fist dead center in that puzzled face, but once again a cooler head prevailed.

"Come inside, please." Manners, Murdoch, remember your manners. What was it an Aunt once said? If people would always remain courteous there would be no more wars since there is nothing more discourteous than bombing another country.

She had a point.

And Murdoch had no doubt that Johnny loved the man he called Papa in front of him.

Closing the door, he ushered Madrid, who stood a little shorter than Johnny, into the great room. Madrid turned, meeting him eye to eye.

"Mr. Lancer, I'm sure my arrival is something of a shock."

Murdoch nodded given he couldn't argue with that. "Johnny will be happy you are here."

"You are most likely not and I apologize for that."

"All right." Murdoch didn't know what else to say. What could he say?

"Is Juanito here?"

"He's out in the workout barn."

"If I may, I will see him first and then we will talk, yes?"

Oh, why the hell not?

"Certainly. It's the mid-sized building to the left."

Murdoch pointed him in the right direction and watched as Madrid made his way out to the barn.

"We've been invaded." Teresa came up beside him and folded her hand around as much of his as she could.

"It does feel that way."

"Life just sucks sometimes."

Well, it was a veritable vortex right now.

TBC