Chapter Six

As two weeks went by, Reba continued to avoid Brock, and, as often as she could, the rest of her family. They all knew what was going on, she could tell – just by the way they were awkward around her, and it just made her even more ashamed. They could never forgive her for this. She knew she wouldn't. Ever, ever, ever!

Reba did anything and everything to distract herself and stay away from everyone. She found herself constantly asking if she could work late or come in early. Her boss was grateful but had no idea who in their right mind would want to work such long hours for that pay. But no one asked questions – she didn't talk to them unless she had to.

Did she know it wasn't healthy? Well, yes, of course she did. But she was just so angry at herself she didn't care. It wasn't feeling sorry for herself - she was just plain sick of herself for doing this to everyone!

It wasn't long before someone finally forced her to talk. No one in her family could bear to see her being so hard on herself.

Reba was sitting on her bed in her most comfortable pair of sweats, going over bills. It was a few minutes before she realized that she'd finished them the night before and, frustrated, stacked them up in an old binder and dropped them on the floor, stood, and kicked the lot under the bed. She was just hoping that they hadn't spilled out and disorganized themselves when she heard a knock on the door.

She looked warily at the door and sighed, defeated. "Come in," she said, her voice barely over a grumble. It was probably Cheyenne, wanting to lecture, or Kyra to make sure she hadn't snuck around with Brock lately.

In came…Van. He looked as nervous as the butterflies doing the conga in her stomach. He shut the door, casting a glance behind him as though it may be his last of the outside. "Um, hey Mrs. H."

"Hey, Van." Reba responded suspiciously. Van nodded, and leaned against the door, letting out a long breath.

"Um…" he began after a pause. Reba stuffed her hands in her pockets to disguise her shaking hands. "I think we should talk."

"Did they put you up to this?" she accused, jerking her head towards the wall behind her, where Cheyenne, Barbara Jean and Kyra could be listening in. "If so, can you please just-"

"Cool it, Mrs. H, they have no clue. In fact, they've all got this agreement not to talk to you about this and would be coming after me with spears if they knew about this, so…don't tell them, m'kay?"

Reba held back a smile; he was so ridiculous. "Then why are you here?"

Taking another breath, Van shrugged and said. "I figured you should talk about it." Should talk about it, not want. He may not realize it, but he had avoided a great argument by not saying that she wanted to talk about anything. Because she didn't.

Reba let out a sigh, refusing to look touched. "I don't know, Van…" She looked up to see if he had changed his mind, but the firm, caring expression on his face had not changed. The only thing that had changed that he had opened his arms a little, as if he knew what she need the most. She buried her face in her hands and nodded, unable to hold back the tears that were just powerful enough to seep through her fingers like sand.

Reba felt Vans arms around her and his head rest on hers. "I'm sorry…" she mumbled as clearly as she could.

"Don't you dare say that," he said, but he couldn't manage a very stern voice with his chin trembling. He felt horrible for making her show weakness, but he knew this was the only way. He pulled her away to face her, holding her shoulders. "Lets sit down." She obeyed and he asked, "Mrs. H, you want him back." It wasn't a question. She nodded guiltily.

Van took a deep breath, elated with the fact that he could deliver this good news. "Well, I got some good news, Mrs. H…while you've been zombie-ing your way around here, they've been getting a divorce. Kyra's moving back in here, too, as soon as its final."

Rebas head shot up to look into his eyes, and for a moment, he saw, to his relief, the first glint of hope he'd seen in them for awhile. It flickered for a moment, then died. She shrugged. "It doesn't make any difference. I can't have Brock now, not after this. Not after I lied to everyone, how could they accept us now?"

Van scoffed. "Mrs. H, if you haven't noticed, we're all a little stupid!"

"Van-"

"No, listen! We. Are. Nuts! All of us – Cheyenne and I had a baby at 17 – you accepted it! Your husband broke your heart for another woman – you letitgo!"

"I what?" Reba asked dully.

"Letitgo. Kinda catchy, huh?" Van winked, then put his serious face back on and continued, "Mrs. H, after all you've forgiven, how could you think we wouldn't forgive you?"

"What about Kyra? Why would she forgive me, she doesn't owe me anything." Reba was getting a little desperate for an arguement; if anything could happen (but she was flat-out sure that nothing could) she wouldn't have anyone upset.

"Mrs. H, do you have any idea how bad she's felt all this time about moving out? That's why she's coming back, too."

Reba condisered everything. She could somewhat believe that what Van told her had merit. True; she was forgiving of her family's stupidity, but what she had done was…worse! "Its great when you say it like that, Van…and, thanks, but…I just can't believe that they'll all just forgive me like that!" she snapped her fingers for effect.

Van bit his lip. "I think they will, Mrs. H, and I'm gonna prove it."

Reba shook her head tiredly. "Van, please – please don't ask them."

"Leaveitome, and letitgo." Reba managed a weak laugh as he hugged her.

"I guess I can't stop ya…but, Van-"

"Letitgo!"

"Hey, honey, whatcha doin?" Cheyenne asked, coming into their room the next morning in her bathrobe, her hair up in a towel. Van was sitting on their bed, one leg hanging off the bed, and was scratching something down on a piece of paper.

"Something very important – here, sign this!" He handed her the clipboard the paper was on. Holding her robe more securely with one hand, Cheyenne read the title. Her eyes grew huge.

"Van, are you nuts? You can't make a petition like this!" she squealed, looking around for something to hide it in. Her eyes lingered on the pillows.

"Hello, it's America!" Van rolled his eyes. "Anyway, you know you wanna sign it - its for your Mom."

Cheyenne sighed, torn. "Yeah, but, you really think she cares what we think on the matter?"

He scoffed, "Oh, she cares!" and handed her a pen. She cautiously signed it and handed it back to her husband. "Thanks, honey. All right, now for the rest of the family..."

Luckily Kyra had come over and was eating breakfest with. Elizabeth and Henry. She loved children as long as she could give them back when they got fussy. Van walked in on her sitting between them, pouring as much sugar as they wanted onto their cereal.

"Kyra, I need you to sign this petition," he said, holding it up. Kyra smirked. "Van, for the hundredth time, I don't care about free video games for football-playing fathers."

"Ha-ha, very funny!" he scoffed darkly and set the clipboard on the table. Leaning over and reading it, Kyra's eyebrows raised.

"Huh," was her only reaction

"Uh-huh, sign it!" Van pressed.

"You really think she'll listen to this?" Kyra asked suspiciously.

"Why does everyone doubt me – yes, of course she will, sign it!" he repeated impatiently. Shaking her head, she obeyed.

"Thanks Kyra. Hey, Jake!" He beamed at the dark haired boy walking in. "Hey, can I get your autograph?"

Jake grinned. "Sure! Is this about me only scoring three goals for the other team on Saturday?"

Next, Van went to the really hard one: Barbara Jean. He didn't especially want to do this but he knew how important it was to Mr. H. Nervous, he pep talked his way over to her house.

"C'mon, Van…you can do this…it's okay…three houses down…two houses…you can do it….one house…up her walk…What if she's crying? Up her walk again…you'll be okay…"

Next thing he knew, he was knocking on her door. She opened after a few moments. "Van, since when do you knock?" she asked in surprise. "Oh, those are…wow…!" she stared in awe at the roses in his hands.

"Hey, Barbara Jean." Van pushed the roses at her, keeping the hand with the clipboard behind his back. "May I..?"

"Sure, come on in!' she allowed him inside, accepting the roses, but surprised when he did a sharp turn to face her and keep his back away from her view. "What's behind your back?" she asked innocently.

Van laughed nervously and revealed it. "Will you sign this?"

"Um…okay?" Barbara Jean set the roses on the couch and took the petition. Her face formed a very surprised expression – whether or not she was mad was impossible to tell. "Oh.." she shrugged and signed it, handing it back with a smile.

"Really?" Van was suspicious. "Really, you're okay with it?"

"Van, soon Brock won't be that part of my life anymore, of course I'm okay with it. And this is very sweet of you to do for Reba, I hope you realize," she added, touching his shoulder.

Van shrugged, flattered. "Thanks, Barbara Jean." Glancing at his paper, he added, "Well, looks like I got everybody. Now I just gotta talk to Mr. H."

"You're having him sign this…? Van, wouldn't that be, um, strange?"

"No – I'm gonna have him give this to Mrs. H," he corrected.

Barbara Jean took a moment to recover from this news. Her face looked like it would if someone had announced that Reba was joining the Mafia. "Van…" she said, laughing nervously. "You're nuts."

He shrugged again. "Yeah, thats I'll be wearing some kind of armor over the next few days."

Soo sorry for the wait! Its been hectic - I think I live with a circus. Plus my break from purgatory is over and I'm back at school. "Its like work, but without the money".