Prologue:

The rain seemed, as with most people, in accordance to Emily Starr's mood. The very dreary-ness comforted her. It made her feel as if she was not the only one with pain on her conscience. When Emily had been little, she had once told her father that when the rain sounded a certain way, such as it was that night, it was "crying with everyone."

Emily certainly felt like crying. There seemed to be no on in the world left to take care of her. She felt alone, as she never had in her entire life. There was no Father to talk to, no Father to console with her, no Father to love…. to be loved by.

Emily felt very alone without her Father's love to protect her.

But her Fourteen and a half years stopped her from crying the minute Ellen Browne had told her that her Father couldn't live past next Friday. It went too deep for tears.

Emily had always lived alone with her Father. There were few-very few-recollections of a blonde angel hovering above her, and rocking her to sleep. They seemed very remote and unreal now. All she knew now was that her Father was her life.

Her Father, when Emily had been but a "wee kidlet" had rented a small house on the edge of the Wedgwood Golf Estate in a suburb of St. Paul Minnesota. Emily had liked it there. There was a huge backyard, and the little neighborhood kids were kind and friendly. She had never really made any friends with them, of course. Emily was not the type to make friends with her peers. But it was nice.

Then, when Emily had been eight, her Father had bought a house right outside of Northfield. It was a large, old farmhouse and Emily had loved it. The Minnesotan woods and fields surrounding it had always felt akin to her. The rolling hills and delightful country roads! Who needed money for bread when one possessed such beauty?

Her Father had home schooled her, and they had been quite content. Emily had never needed anyone but her Father anyway.

Then Ellen Browne had to go and spoil it all. Rather, actually, her Father's health had to go and spoil it all. Then old life had been destroyed, and Emily's Father was now dead.

The funeral was over. Emily was thankful for that. Rowe Funeral Home had been a rather impersonal place for her Father's funeral service. Most of the people came from curiosity, not liking for her Father, and this made Emily so mad that she didn't even acknowledge her misery.

But perhaps our Emily was mad at life, not just at the unfortunate spectators. We cannot say, for woebegone looks and sulking in outdoor fields cannot tell a person much about another's anger.

One thing was established about Emily's future. She couldn't stay at the farm for long.

*~*~*~*~*

He had told her about them. He had said that they were a wiry old bunch. As they stepped out of the car she felt she could have recognized them a mile away. The Goodletsons. The oldest family of Door County. And they were no to be in custody of a young Priestess to the Goddess of Beauty.

Emily shivered at the thought.

"Well, now child. Let's have a look at you." A face Emily immediately hated. Fat and pudgy, with beetle black eyes and a sagging mouth. A calculated look of criticism. Pure terror filled Emily's heart. Would she have to see that face every day?

"Oh, don't make her feel like a cow being judged at the State Fair, Ruth," said a kindly face with a smattering of dusty gray hair like a dirty broom. Kind moon shaped gray eyes, and a whimsical expression.

"Well Jimmy, I just want to see what has become of Julie's child. Last I heard I had a right to that." The beetle-eyed lady huffed.

"Yes, but not to scare the poor girl out of her mind. Her father's just died, she doesn't need you giving her the once over as well."

"Come now," said thinner, brick woman who reminded Emily of Maggie Smith sans a British accent, "That's just being silly. We have more important matters to settle." Emily groaned. Was she to be treated like a child the rest of her whole life by these people?

A kind looking washed out lady who must have been pretty in her youth, but looked like a Daffodil after it had died gave her shoulders a small hug and gave the only comforting words as of yet, "Don't worry, dear, we will all help you through this difficult time. And if you need a hug or to cry alone just ask me and I'll see what I can do."

Blessed lack of eloquence! Emily would have taken any sympathy at that moment, like a thirsty dog would lap up water.

"Let's all get inside, " the brick woman motioned to all the other relatives popping out from the numerous cars, "We must try to get this over quickly as possible."

Emily felt she would rather die and be with her father than go through this form of the old Elizabethan rack. She would have to leave with one of them.

*~*~*~*~*~*

They set out. The line of cars seemed like the funeral procession, only a few days before. And in a way, Emily felt, this was like going to a funeral. She was leaving behind the old life, the old days, the old memories.

And, setting out to the old family homestead, she knew a new life would be built up.

Eventually.

*~*~*~*~*~*

A/N How was it? Ok? Good? Great? Sucky?

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