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Disclaimer: VC Andrews owns this all…

I spent a week of vacation with Daddy before returning to Farthy for Easter. Despite the excitement of driving back home with him, of seeing the familiar houses and trees of the neighborhood I'd grown up in, that first afternoon back was oddly strained. It had been so long since I'd seen Daddy, so very very long. He'd been away much of the winter, spending so time at our ports in the Caribbean that I'd only seen him a few weekends since January. Our conversation felt stilted and formal all that day as I wandered through the house alone, and Daddy caught up on work.

I felt uncomfortable there in my old house, faintly constrained in my old room that felt -after the spaciousness of Farthy- to be smaller and shabbier than I'd ever realized. But all that ended at dinner. Like a dam had burst, Daddy and I talked all through dinner. We still talked every week, but phone conversations are no substitute for a real face-to-face talk, and while happily munching fettuccini alfredo we talked about everything. Daddy told me about work, and how the cabins were being redecorated on one of his biggest ships; and how the staff from last summer still asked about me. Because he had not realized the Longstones moved, I told him about how strange it was to have a single room, and admitted that Jenny and I weren't friends anymore.

"Leigh, I'm so sorry," Daddy said. "I didn't realize that you weren't talking to her, anymore." I wasn't surprised that he didn't know. There were some things it had been fine to share: funny stories about school, the work I was doing, and the books I read. But admitting that Jenny and I no longer talked… that was tantamount to telling him what a social pariah I'd become when my parents' marriage had ended, and I knew that information would hurt him.

"I know," I said simply, wiping away an errant tear. "And I'm alright, honestly. The other girls…" My voice faded out. "They can be very nice," I finished gamely. By that time, we had finished dinner and sat in the living room. Daddy put his arm around my shoulder, and gratefully I nestled against his side.

"It's nice, having you here," Daddy said. I rested my head on his shoulder, feeling the rough tweed of his jacket scratch my cheek. Breathing deeply, my nostrils filled up with Daddy's smell, which had always spelled home, love and comfort.

It is a funny thing about the sense of smell, how certain scents will always trigger memories. Jasmine always reminded me of Mother, just as cinnamon made me think of the Christmas I was four, making decorations of cinnamon dough with Jenny. Despite Mother having never approved of Daddy smoking a pipe, he always smelled of a heady combination of tobacco, and the thick spiciness of his cologne.

"I miss you a lot," I said, giving him a squeeze. Daddy squeezed back. Before us, the fire popped and crackled, shedding a warm glow over the room. In the last year, I had grown so accustomed to Farthy that sometimes it felt like I had lived nowhere else… but the more time I spent here in my childhood home with Daddy, the more this felt real again. I cast my eyes right and left, over the warm honey-hued wood floors and furniture, the creamy cushions covering the sofa and chairs.

Daddy cleared his throat. "How are things out there at Farthinggale Manor?" he asked in a low voice. I could sense what he wasn't saying, beneath his question.

"She's fine. The talk about the baby distracts everyone."

Too late I realized what I'd said. There were some things never to be mentioned, between Daddy and me. Mother. Tony. And the prospect of the new baby.

Daddy's eyes flickered up to the mantelpiece, where he still kept a picture of our family.

"I should have guessed," he whispered. I looked up to see his hazel eyes become dark and shadowed; his lips turn downward in sadness. Then he seemed to shake off his dark mood.

"I wish her luck," Daddy said, head bowed and voice solemn. So solemn, in fact, that despite the fun we had for the rest of the week, I felt something lacking. Like a limb that had been excised, Mother had ripped something from Daddy's heart and soul when she left… and at moments, I could still sense the pain he still carried inside.

A week later saw me back at Farthy. It was a wet spring that year, a messy, dripping affair of melting snow, and squishing mud underfoot. Mindful of my new red satin shoes from Daddy, I walked up the driveway, slipping in the front door before the butler could open it.

"Leigh!" Troy cried as I walked in the foyer, running from the living room to fling his arms around me. "Welcome home!"

"Yes," a deeper voice added, "welcome home." Tony stood at the foot of the stairs, smiling as I swooped Troy up in my arms.

"Hi, Tony," I greeted him. For more than a year, Farthy had been where I lived on the weekends but now that I didn't resent Tony, it had begun to feel like home. I walked over and put one arm around his neck to hug him and was rewarded with a friendly smile.

"You have to see, you have to see!" Troy yelled, rather excitedly into my ear. "There's something new here at the house!"

"Oh," I said, smiling at my little brother. "That sounds great! Do you want to show me?" He nodded vigorously, and Tony laughed, taking my elbow to lead me. Troy refused to move from my arms so together the three of us walked to the East wing and down the back stairwell. Before, there had been a series of storage cellars. But now, the rooms had been demolished to become a delight of serene blue water, and potted ferns in the corners of the room.

"A pool?" I asked, turning to Tony. "You built a pool?

"I'd always planned to. Now that Troy is a little older, I thought it would be nice; plus you like to swim too, right?" I nodded. "Swimming is good exercise," he went on, "and it's wonderful to be able to do it year-round, not just when the weather is nice enough to use the outdoor pool."

I nodded again. Being able to swim before bed, or in the morning before breakfast sounded like fun. And I stood there, swaying slightly on the balls of my feet, watching the serene water before me as smooth as a pane of glass.

"Where is Mother?" I suddenly asked. "Is she home? What is she doing?" It should not have surprised me that I hadn't seen her when I'd arrived; but somehow it still did.

"She's vomming," Troy volunteered helpfully from within my arms. I shifted him slightly on my hip, and with a soft chuckle, Tony reached out to pluck him from me.

"You're getting to be a big boy," he said affectionately. "Leigh can't always carry you around now!" Troy clung to his brother, skinny arms wrapped around his neck.

"Then you carry me!" he demanded, burrowing his head into Tony's collarbones. Tony smiled, but I watched his eyes become suspiciously bright as he patted Troy's back and hoisted him a bit higher on his hip.

"Always," he murmured, before dropping a kiss on his brother's small, pale forehead.

We walked in silence back toward the main part of Farthy. The crimson carpet muffled our footsteps, and the dim glow from the wall sconces reflecting the dark paneling of the walls did little to light our way.

"So Mother is sick?" I asked.

"Vomiting," Tony confirmed. He glanced over at me. His blue eyes were bright, appraising. My gaze fell upon my feet, clad so neatly in my shoes a few shades brighter than the carpet beneath them. Thoughts flew rampant in my mind, keeping pace with my footsteps. Mother, who boasted never being sick… Mother, who was now vomiting in the morning!

"Is she?" The words tumbled from my mouth. I stopped walking and clutched Tony's arm, my head spinning. "Is she?"

Tony ducked his head, blond hair grown surprisingly long in the week I'd been away, falling to slightly obscure his eyes. But head bent, hair in his face, was not enough to hide his smile. His teeth shone diamond bright in the sunlight as we emerged into the foyer.

"Maybe," he said. He could hardly speak for smiling.

Once, I would have been angry with the too-recent memory of Daddy's solemn face of last week. Once, I would have despised Tony the foolish, boyish grin spread across his face. But now, while I didn't share his excitement, I couldn't find it in myself to hate him. I managed a smile as I excused myself and ran upstairs to see Mother.

"Mother?" I burst into her dressing room, to find her dressed in a lilac negligee, sipping tea and gazing out the window.

"Oh Leigh, my sweet dear!" Mother held out her arms and I ran into them eagerly. How long had it been since Mother had hugged me like that? I lay my head on her shoulder, inhaling the sweetness of her jasmine perfume, and feeling her fingers gently stroking my hair.

"Why, Leigh dear, whatever is wrong?" Too late, I realized I had tears in my eyes. Why? I didn't know. I blinked and managed to smile at her.

"I'm just happy to see you," I said, finally. "Are you alright?"

"Oh yes," Mother said. "I've been a little indisposed lately, but now I'm feeling much better." Her fingers trailed over my cheek and she smiled cornflower blue eyes serene and happy.

The days before Easter passed quickly. Although I'd taught Troy to swim last summer, he remained afraid of water and I set myself to coaxing him into the new pool every morning before breakfast. Sometimes Tony came with us, laughing as he gently splashed his little brother, initiating some spectacular water fights. But at night, after Troy went to bed, I'd slip downstairs to swim, properly. Back and forth in the heated water I'd swim laps, feeling the pull of my arms through the water and feeling my legs propel me along. And then after tiring myself out so thoroughly that every muscle hurt, I'd flip onto my back and float; eyes shut tight and hair streaming around me like a halo. My ears below the surface of the water; hearing, rather than really feeling tiny waves lapping against me. I felt I could stay like that forever.

Suddenly, something grabbed my ankle! I stood up in the shallow end of the pool, inadvertently snorting in water. Coughing, tears in my eyes I spun around to see Tony standing next to me, a wide grin across his face.

"Sorry, Leigh" he said, shoulders shaking with merriment. "I just couldn't help it."

Still coughing, I narrowed my eyes at him. Tony only laughed harder.

"My dear girl," he said, voice full of mocking amusement, "how angry you look, when I was just being silly! How about this, Leigh, I'll give you a chance to get back at me." He grinned at me, devilment in every inch of his handsome face and shining in those bright blue eyes.

My coughing had finally subsided enough for me to breathe normally and I tucked wet strands of my hair behind my ears, and crossed my arms.

"You can count on it," I said. Tony's amusement was too much for me, and I felt my lips quirking into a smile, despite myself.

"As you're already in the pool, how about a race," Tony suggested.

I hesitated a moment, then paddled over to the edge where he was. "First one to the other end?"

"Deal. On three, now. One, two… three."

As I heard Tony say three, I launched myself forward, using a powerful kick-off from the wall to help me glide through the water before I began swimming with all my might. My outstretched fingers found the wall and I'd pulled myself half out of the water before Tony arrived and he grinned at me in honest admiration.

"I won," I crowed.

"I can't contest that," Tony said. He closed his eyes, while regaining his breath. Wet lashes cast spiky shadows upon his cheeks and blond hair in sodden waves were plastered down to his head.

"That was fun," he said, finally. "It's so nice to have a partner to do these things with. I'd thought that Jillian-"

Tony stopped talking abruptly. But he didn't have to continue. I knew what he'd say.

"Mother doesn't like exercise," I said.

"I've noticed," Tony mumbled quietly, rather to himself. Then he smiled, full of cheer and light again. "When you're here, Leigh, maybe we could swim together in the evenings? I used to be on the swim team when I was at university, and it's been a long time since I had someone to swim with."

"Me too," I agreed. "So it's a date then?"

Tony nodded, eyes sparkling. "Swimming before bed, whenever you're at Farthy. It's a date."

Easter had never been a much celebrated holiday in my family. God and religion were two things that Mother had only the vaguest of passing interest in, and therefore religious holidays had always ranked low in things we did. But Tony -for all that he seemed to share Mother's lack of religious fervor- evidently had good childhood memories that he wished to share with Troy and with me. Easter Sunday found us in church, clasping hymn books and inhaling the strong overpowering scent of lilies.

"Searching for Easter eggs was always my favorite part of this holiday," Tony said as we stood outside the church, blinking in the bright spring sunshine after the darkness from the inside of the sanctuary. I took a deep breath of the cool air, expelling the last of the pollen-laced lilies aroma from my lungs.

Troy ran ahead of us, clutching a large wicker basket in one hand as he diligently began searching for eggs beneath nearby bushes.

"Come help, Leigh," he pleaded. "Come help!"
"I'm coming," I answered, laughing. Heedless of my new dress, a sweet confection of lavender lace with darker purple ribbon at the hem, I ran around the church grounds with my small brother. When all the eggs had been found, and prizes awarded for the most eggs gathered, Troy and I returned to where Mother and Tony stood conversing with other members of the congregation.

"Tony!" Troy's cheeks were flushed and his hair rumpled, but his grin stretched from ear to ear. "We won the second prize for the most eggs!"
"That's wonderful," Tony said. "Jill, isn't that wonderful?"

Mother pressed her lips together, and gave a small, curt nod. "Yes, yes, Tony darling. That's very nice. But, Leigh! Whatever happened to you?"

Under the directness of her gaze, I realized what I must look like now. Far from the elegant way I'd been dressed for service, I was now even more bedraggled than Troy. My dress was wrinkled from running around and there were grass stains on the knees of my white stockings. My hair, carefully pulled back with jeweled clips earlier in the day was now tangled and hanging into my face, and my cheeks were pink with excitement and exertion.

"I was helping Troy," I explained, self-consciously tugging at my skirt and attempting to tuck the tangles of my hair behind my ears.

"Oh, Jill," Tony said mildly, "leave her alone. She and Troy had a good time."

Mother sniffed. "She looked like a proper young lady this morning, and now she looks like a hooligan."

"I think Leigh looks pretty," Troy piped up, still occupied with his loving gaze at the paper ribbon we'd won.

"I think so too," Tony said. I looked up to see him smiling at me, without a trace of mockery anywhere on his face. "Leigh is beautiful, no matter what she's wearing."

Troy pulled me away at that moment but I caught a glimpse of Mother's face as I turned to pay attention to my little brother. Her lips were pulled back into a smile, but something in her eyes told me that she was angry Tony disagreed with her… that he might find my romping with Troy amusing, but she found nothing funny about the situation.

Later that night, towel beneath my arm, I slipped down the stairs at Farthy toward the pool. It was much later than I was used to having my nighttime swim, but Troy had been so excited that it had been very difficult to get him to sleep. Mother had disappeared with Tony into her rooms shortly after dinner, and now, Farthy was filled with a peaceful calm and quiet.

But when I got to the pool, I realized that all was not as quiet as I'd thought. Tony was not upstairs, as I'd thought, but was in the water, angrily swimming back and forth in one of the lanes. A smile crept over my face as I tiptoed to the edge of the pool, watching him. I hadn't forgotten the dunking he'd given me, nor his rash offer that I could pick a time to reciprocate. Inch by inch, I made my way over to the edge of the pool as Tony stopped rather abruptly, and floated, face down in the water. I slid into the water, moving slowly so I wouldn't alert him to my presence, tiptoed closer… and grabbed his foot.

Just as I'd done, Tony sputtered, inhaling a big mouthful of water. He stood up, coughing angrily and rubbing his eyes.

"What do you think you are doing?"

At the indignant look on his face, I began to laugh.

"I couldn't help it," I said, trying in vain to stifle my laughter. "Dear boy, you just made a wonderful target, lying there! And," I added, "I got you back for dunking me!"

"Don't be such a child," Tony snapped. "I was swimming and you disturbed me."

My laughter stopped as abruptly as though a button had been pushed. Taken aback, I stared at him. I thought we'd been getting along so well!

"I'm not a child," I answered automatically. "I was just doing what you did to me before. Being… silly?" My voice faded as I stared at Tony. His face, set in lines of anger and frustration was terrifying. Unconsciously, I took a step backwards, wanting nothing more than to be away, far away in my rooms and nowhere near this frightening version of Tony Tatterton that I'd never seen.

But in an instant, the extremes of anger and unhappiness washed from his face. He smiled; a small, mocking smile.

"You want to be silly?" he asked. Suddenly, without my even seeing him move, a wave of water hit me in the face.

"You splashed me!" I cried. In a flash, Tony was back to the person I knew. He smiled, suddenly as free as before. I splashed him back and then dashed for the ladder to climb out of the pool. He grabbed my ankle and I fell backwards with a shriek and a splash.

"That was not fair!" I said, laughing up into Tony's face. He was laughing too, his blue eyes alight. And then he reached toward me.

It was one of the moments when time seems to freeze. I couldn't understand what he was doing, even when I looked down and realized my bikini top had flown up when I fell back into the pool, and Tony was reaching over to pull it down. Strange how something so innocent suddenly seemed so wrong… I stared downward in growing horror at the sight of Tony's thumb and forefinger holding the fabric of my top to pull it down. I could feel his fingers against my cleavage, his forefinger tracing down between my breasts as he pulled on the wet blue fabric, the sides of his fingers brushing against me.

I don't know how long the moment lasted. It felt like forever, the burn of Tony's fingers against my breasts even through the cool water. Caught in that second that time forgot, I looked at him. His lips, smooth and sensual were parted slightly; the planes of his face turning slightly saturnine in the shadows of the pool room scared me. But more worrying, more terrifying were his eyes. His gaze was fixed upon my top, and the breasts that he was even now covering. But deep in his eyes I saw something like the flame of a candle: bright, scalding and very, very frightening.

I fled back to my rooms, water dripping from my suit and hair to pool in dark, wet patches on the pale rugs. Wrapped in a towel and staring at my mirror I trembled.

For something which had seemed so innocent at first, it had become something of horror. Caught in shock, I shook with not only the chill of my wet swimsuit, but with fear. Somehow I felt so uncomfortable about what had happened. It was not what exactly had happened, but the feelings I got from it that were filling me with such trepidation.

In another, earlier time, I would have called Jenny to talk. If I were hurt, and needed soothing, I would have crept to Daddy, and to Mother.

But now, who was I to turn to? Jenny and I were no longer friends. Mother was completely absorbed with herself, with her new husband, and her pregnancy. Daddy was far away in Costa Rica… and anyway, what could I say?

In time, I slept fitfully, still in my swimsuit and wrapped in a towel on my bed. Even in my dreams, my mind raced and I woke up pale and disturbed. At the stroke of noon, I let myself into Mother's rooms. Where else could I turn? Even preoccupied with herself as she was, she was still my Mother. She had to listen to me, to sooth away the nebulous worry that the previous night had caused… right?

I was relieved to see that she was already awake, but I still called out to her softly as I walked over to her.

"Oh, Leigh dear, it's you. What is it? I'm busy." But she wasn't. She was walking disconsolately around her dressing room, picking up a brush here, a silver backed hand mirror there, and then suddenly putting them in other places. She wore no eye shadow or mascara, making her appear at once younger and more vulnerable.

"Mother, I had to talk to you. Please." Aware that I sounded as though I were begging for her attention, I found myself adding: "it's about Tony."

A spark of interest. "What about Tony?"

I took a deep breath. It needed to be said, even if I felt so uncomfortable saying it.

"He touched me," I whispered, in a low, shamed voice.

"He - touched you?"

Caught in my own misery, I still had a flash of irritation that Mother wasn't even looking at me. Her fingers trailed over pairs of shoes on a rack, lightly caressing satin slippers and kid pumps.

"We were being silly, and when he pulled me into the pool my top went up. Tony reached over to fix it and he- touched me." My cheeks flamed. "There!" I gestured vaguely toward my chest.

"Your bikini top went up, and Tony fixed it for you?" Mother asked.

I nodded. Once out of my mouth, it sounded so banal, but I wanted her to see… no, I was trusting her to understand how I felt. Frightened, by what had happened. Betrayed, by someone I trusted that I thought had become a friend.

"Really, Leigh," Mother said, now absently shifting powder compacts on her dressing table. "I don't see anything wrong. I thought you and Tony were getting along. He does encourage you to be silly," she added, with a slight sniff that let me know instantly that she did not approve of that.

"We were getting along. It's just…" I fought for words. It didn't seem right. More banal words that stated only the facts, but didn't fully explain how I felt.

"Leigh, dear, don't be such a child. Tony was helping you fix your clothes. Now run along like a sweet dear and let me get ready. I have a bridge party to go to." Mother's dismissive demeanor was back, her smile as sweet and as blank as usual as I ran from the room.

Even though Mother had not been there for me for so long, I'd still hoped that she would understand. That by telling her what had happened, she would instinctively know how upset I felt. But that was foolish. Mother never really listened; certainly, not any more.

It seemed that with each turn of my life, I lost something that I'd loved, and never appreciated fully until it was missing. Daddy was the first to go, followed by my home, my friends… and despite it all, I'd harbored the childish hope that if something was really wrong, that Mother would always be there for me. Now, with her refusal to listen and to understand, it was time to accept that I was truly alone.

Feeling bereft of love and support apparently affected me badly. My anger, which I'd thought had faded when Tony and I became friends came back. I could barely stand to be in the same room with Mother, not now that I felt so betrayed by her. Being around Tony was worse, as he always seemed to be where I was. Previously, that had not felt so oppressive, but now I grew angry and sullen whenever he came around me. Ruthlessly, I squashed down the urge to answer Tony's friendly smiles and greetings, and glared instead. His good humor gradually became replaced with confusion and frank irritation when I didn't answer him.

But that amount of anger was taking its toll on me. I felt nervous and tired all the time whenever I ventured out of my rooms. Perhaps Mother had been right, I mused one afternoon as I was sitting with Troy before he went for a nap. Just perhaps, Tony's action had been innocent. Was I overreacting to something that he hadn't intended? I closed my eyes, remembering that night. I could feel the water against my skin, the exhilaration when Tony's anger seemed to fade and he turned back into the person that I liked. But then… oh, but then I remembered that look in Tony's eyes as he was pulling my top down. That hungry, intense look in his blue, blue eyes. I shivered, involuntarily.

"Leigh?" Troy was already tucked into his bed, and was watching me with troubled eyes. He put one frail arm to clasp me around the neck.

"I'm sorry, Troy," I said, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "I was thinking of something else."

Troy bit his lip, and his arm tightened around my neck.

"Are you mad, Leigh?" he whispered.

"No," I said instantly, melting with the entreaty in his eyes. "I'm not mad, Troy. Why would you think that?"

"Because you seem mad all the time now," Troy insisted as he lay back against his pillows. Dark eyes with long lashes fluttered owlishly as he sleepily whispered, "I liked it better when you and Tony got along. Now you always seem mad when he's around." Within one heartbeat to the next, he was asleep. I sat on the edge of his bed watching his narrow chest moving with his faint breaths, slightly startled to realize that my animosity had reached such proportions that even Troy had noticed.

"He's right, you know," a voice behind me said.

I spun around to find Tony watching me.

"He's right," Tony said again, simply. He stood in the doorway, dressed in a dark suit which served to bring his face even more in the shadows. "You seem mad at me."

"Shouldn't I be?" I hissed. "After what you did?"

"What did I do?" Tony asked. His voice sounded genuinely confused, but all I could wish in that moment was that he would move so that I could see him better.

"In the pool," I said, angrily. "What you did in the pool. You - touched me."

"Oh Leigh," Tony let out a quiet burst of laughter. "You're being so childish. I fixed your top. Nothing more."

"I am not a child," I bit out. "I wish everyone would stop calling me that!"

"If you act like one," Tony said, his voice becoming low and intense, "then that is how we will treat you."

"Do I look like a child?" I demanded. I stood up, spreading my arms out and fixing Tony with a glare. His eyes skimmed over me, over my flushed cheeks and my long, pale blond hair hanging over my shoulders. His eyes narrowed as they traveled down my body, then back up to my face, and he closed his eyes briefly.

"No," he said quietly, in a voice unlike his own. "No, Leigh, you don't look like a child."

"Then don't call me one," I snapped, louder than I intended. On the bed, Troy stirred uncomfortably in his sleep, and I lowered my voice before I continued.

"Am I good with Troy?"

"Yes," Tony agreed immediately. "You're very good with him."

"So we agree. I don't look like a child and I don't act like one. If I was that childish, I wouldn't be so good with Troy. Right?"

Tony sighed. "Being a child, or acting like a child is based on more things than just those two criteria, Leigh. But, yes, you are right. If it is what you want to hear, then I do agree on those two points. You are very good with Troy. You mother him more than…" I felt, rather than saw Tony bite back his words.

"I know," I said, answering what he'd left unsaid. "Don't you wish Mother was more like me?"

Suddenly, Tony stepped into the light of the room and I could feel his eyes boring into me. My cheeks flushed hot and my heart began to beat faster. I lowered my eyes.

"That's the second time you've said that," he murmured, coming closer.

Was it? I couldn't remember, if that was true. Strange, that he did.

Something prompted me to look up, to see his blue eyes smoldering beneath his thick fall of blond hair that gleamed like gold in the afternoon sunlight streaming into the room. His lips quirked into a smile.

"Sometimes, dear girl," he said, rather conversationally, "you look so like Jill, with those clear blue eyes and long blond hair. But you're really so different. When we met, I thought Jill would be like you are," Tony said. The words fell slowly from his lips. "Warm. Caring. And instead-"

Unbidden, the words jumped to my lips. "You married a paper doll," I said, shrugging. I stood up to leave the room, tossing my hair over my shoulder as I walked past him. Behind me I could hear Tony's footsteps, following me. He grabbed my arm, and I spun around to face him. His face was twisted in anger.

"I hate it," he snapped, "when you say that! I thought we were getting along, Leigh, and you'd stopped making such child-" He stopped himself abruptly, taking a deep breath before continuing.

"I thought you'd stopped saying such things. Anyway, it's not true. Jillian is beautiful; wonderful and captivatingly so. But that's not the only reason I married her. I thought she'd be a good mother. I thought we'd all be so happy…"

Anger flared inside me, anger over so many things that I couldn't control how my thoughts raced through my head. Anger over what had happened in the pool. Anger at Mother for not listening, believing or paying attention to me since she had met Tony Tatterton. Anger about the loss of my happy, comfortable life and my best friend. Anger about Daddy's brittle sadness, that led him to be so far away from me.

And in the end, I flung the first, and easiest complaint at Tony that I could.

"Except my father, you mean," I snapped. "You never thought if my father would be happy."

Tony raked a hand through his hair, mussing it into soft golden waves.

"No," he then admitted with a sigh. "I didn't think of your father. I thought of Troy and how he needed someone more than me, how he needed a mother to care about him an older sister to make us seem like a proper family. I thought of myself, how lonely I was all alone with just my little brother to fill this house. I thought of Jill, lonely and wanting company while your father was absorbed in work. I even thought of you, and how much you would like living like a princess with all the things that Farthy and the Tatterton empire could supply. But no, Leigh. I suppose I was selfish, wasn't I? I didn't think of Cleave."

Tony sighed, scrubbing his face with his palms before continuing.

"I thought you'd stopped blaming me for that a long time ago, Leigh."

I shrugged, without saying anything. It was true. Somehow, when Tony and I had begun getting along, I had stopped blaming him.

"What would make you finally hate me less?" Tony crossed his arms, watching my face. "What will make you not glare at me with those big blue eyes of yours?"

Words failed me. If there was something in the world that Tony could buy, or connections he could rely on… why, Tony could do anything. But what I really wanted was something that could not be bought. I wanted my life back, the happy life I'd had before Tony came.

"If Mother came back," I finally said. I thought longingly of my twelfth birthday, of Mother's love and attention during my party and of Daddy's face gazing back at me when I blew out the candles on my cake. "If you let my mother go back to my father, that would make him happy,"

I stared up at Tony, keeping my eyes fixed on his face. "And then you'd be happy that you wouldn't have someone who isn't a mother to Troy, and Daddy would be happy, and I'd be happy with my parents back together."

Silence met my words, silence that went on and on and on.

"And Troy?" Tony finally said. "And me? Who would we have, then?"

Deep down, I knew that this whole conversation was foolish. Tony could not make Mother return to Daddy. My mind racing, I spoke without thinking. "You could have me."

Tony stared at me incredulously. "You?"

"I can come back," I said. "I'd miss Troy too much to leave forever."

"You?" Tony said again, staring at me. "You'd stay here?"

"I could be a good mother to Troy. I already am; you said so yourself. I'm not in love with myself as Mother is," I added bitterly. "I know how to care about other people."

Tony's eyes were shadowed with a thousand unsaid things. "Come with me," he said suddenly, catching my hand and pulling me along with him as he walked to his office. I hurried next to him, our feet barely making a sound through the thick crimson carpeting. We walked into his office, and he abruptly let go of my hand as he closed the door.

It was still light enough outside that he didn't need to turn on a lamp, even with the shades drawn. Sunlight flickered at the edges of the room, faintly brightening the shadows.

"So you'd stay here," Tony said. His voice sounded half strangled. "You'd stay here and be Troy's mother."

"Yes," I said. "I already am like his mother."

"Yes, you are," Tony agreed. He tilted his head to the side, looking at me. I was dressed in a white dress that had a thick border of black around the hem and neckline, with a single thick black stripe going vertically down the center to divide it into two parts. I wore my favorite high black boots underneath with no stockings, and my hair was falling loose onto my shoulders.

"But what about me?" Tony asked. His voice was soft, and slightly menacing. "It's not just Troy to consider. I need a wife, Leigh. Could you be that?" He caught a look at my face and took a single step closer. "Do you know what a wife does?"

"Of course I know." I raised my chin, and met his eyes. "She takes care of the house and the children and her husband."

"That's true," he said, slowly. A smile quirked one side of his mouth. "But that's not all that a wife does, Leigh. I'm not sure you can do the rest…"

Pride slammed into my body, stiffening my spine. "I can do it," I said impetuously. "Why would you think I couldn't?"

"Well, you're such a child." Tony's voice was slightly malicious.

"I am not a child!"

"So you say," Tony drawled. He had a lazy smile over his face as he watched me, judging my every reaction.
"Maybe I should give you a bit of a test. You can show me what a good wife you'd make. Give me a kiss."

A silence followed his words. Give him a kiss? Could he be serious? It was Tony before me. Not Joshua whom I had loved, or even Charity, but Tony Tatterton… my mother's second husband. I gazed up at him, my eyes drinking in his sculpted features, his piercing blue eyes and thick blond hair, smooth skin and soft lips. I remembered last summer when I'd arrived back at Farthy, how I'd suddenly begun to notice just how handsome Tony was, how sensual I thought his lips were. A hint of desire rushed through me at that thought, followed by a near tangible wave of guilt.

I knew right from wrong, and what he'd said was definitely the latter. But out of nowhere, I found myself remembering a hot summer day when I was eight. Mother was napping to combat the weather, Daddy was at work, and I sat inside, hot and uncomfortable, playing with my toys. When I heard the tinkling music outside, followed by the screams of the neighborhood children, I ran to ransack my piggybank for change, suddenly obsessed with the thought of ice cream. But it was empty. Deflated, I put my bank back onto the dresser, when I remembered. Daddy kept nickels in a jar on his desk, downstairs in his office.

I crept through the house, obsessed with the thought of just getting enough for an ice cream. I could almost taste the cold, creamy vanilla melting on my tongue, the crisp cone crunching between my teeth. I expected the door to squeal tellingly when I slipped into his office, quickly grabbed a fistful of change and then ran back out. But the house was silent, and I heard nothing except the racing of my own heart. And in the end, between guilt over my theft, and the anticipation for ice cream, anticipation won out. In the shadows of our back porch, I devoured my treat. And in the end, it was alright. No one ever knew. Mother didn't wake up, and Daddy never noticed that loss of that thirty cents.

Just like that summer day so long ago, guilt over what would certainly be wrong and anticipation of what my body craved warred within me. The right thing to do would be to laugh at Tony's words, to turn and walk out of the room. But I wanted it right then, wanted that feeling of lips pressed beneath mine, the rush of desire and excitement that came with it. The flicker of passion grew within me and I blushed, the blood rushing painfully to my cheeks.

Easy. So easy to reach up, to kiss him. So wrong, but so tempting! It felt a year since we stood there, and I wrestled with my thoughts, the rational guilt and the irrational desire.

Tony gave a short bark of laughter then, half turning away from me. "I knew it," he said quietly, venomously. "Big words and tall tales, like your Mother. You are still such a child, Leigh."

Oh! His taunt goaded me into action. In a second the guilt slid away and I found myself taking one step, and then another until I was right in front of Tony. His eyes were unreadable as I reached up and grabbed his face between my hands and pulled his head down to me. In the second before my lips touched his, I remembered to make my lips soft, to lightly caress his. I let my hand slide over his cheeks, and my arms to twine around his neck as I deepened the pressure of our kiss. My tongue gently touched the opening of his mouth before darting back; and I did that a few times until his mouth opened beneath mine and I could push my tongue gently in to tangle with his.

This is just a kiss, I reminded myself nervously. It's just a kiss. Just like kissing Charity. But that last thought was a mistake, as I remembered that night with her. Desire overwhelmed me in a wave, and I stood on tiptoe, pressing my body against his as we kissed and kissed and kissed; I didn't want to ever stop.

Tony was the one to pull away from me, breathing hard.

"Not so innocent, are you?" he said.

I thought of Charity, of that night in her room.

"No," I answered truthfully, breathing hard myself. "I told you, I'm not a child."

"Silly me," Tony drawled, "for doubting you."

I could hear the faint ticks from the clock on the desk, as I stood there within his arms. My heart still raced, and I almost missed his next words.

"Do you know what is supposed to happen after we kiss?" Tony murmured in a soft voice.

The words fell from my lips, without conscious thought behind them.

"Well," I said slowly, thinking back to that night. "You touch me-"

"Tell me where," Tony whispered. "No, better yet. Show me." He still had a look on his face, his eyes unfathomable in the shadows. A trace of guilt threaded through my mind, but I ruthlessly shoved it down. My heartbeat quickened, thinking of the bliss that could be waiting for me, if I just didn't think…if I just acted upon what my body craved. I took one of his hands and hesitantly brought it up to my breasts.

"Here," I murmured. "And then you would touch me here." I pulled his hand down my stomach, and paused at the sudden electric jolt of desire that made my cheeks glow. Tony pulled up the hem of my dress, and I shivered a little at the feel of his fingers, pulling at the elastic of my panties.

"And do we kiss again?" he whispered into my ear.

"Yes," I answered, already reaching for him.

His lips captured mine in a deep kiss as his hand slid into my underwear and began stroking me. It was different than when Charity did it. His hands were bigger, and he was less tentative with his movements… He picked me up with one arm and sat me on his desk as he kept caressing me, kept kissing me. My breathing turned ragged and I tightened my arms around his neck to pull his closer to me. His lips left mine and traveled over to my ear.

"And then what happens, Leigh?"

I was beyond answering. I was lost, lost in the world of passion his fingers and his kisses had put me into.

He pulled away and I half gasped in surprise.

"Do you know what to do then?" His face was flushed and his breathing uneven. In his eyes, I saw the answering flickers of my own passion, and something else. Something I couldn't name. I blinked at him as Tony grabbed my hand and put it down his already open pants. Beneath my fingers I could feel something thick and hard pushing its way into my hand. I looked down to see his member, ruddy dark against the white of my fingers, and the thatch of dark blond curls at the base.

Suddenly, I was afraid. The guilt, the sense of wrong that I'd ignored reared up. Everything until that moment had seemed almost dreamlike. But at that moment, it felt like I'd woken up… and into a nightmare.

"Yes. I mean, no. Tony, stop! I don't want-" I tried to pull my hand away, but Tony placed his over it to move it slowly.

"This is what happens," he said in a low voice. His eyes were lit from within with a brilliant, scalding flame, just like they'd been that night in the pool. The desire that had been coursing through my body was rapidly being replaced by fear and I tried to pull away from him. I was frightened… so very frightened!

"And then what happens after?" Tony persisted. He pulled my hand off him suddenly, and lightning fast had my skirt yanked up and parted my legs with one hand.

"No," I whispered. This was no game anymore. I fought against Tony's hands holding me tightly, but to no avail. "Stop it," I cried, trying to push him away. "I'll scream!"

Tony chuckled. "Scream away," he said pleasantly. "There's no one here, on this side of the house at this hour of the day."

And scream I did. I yelled until my voice went hoarse and my throat ached. I tried to push Tony away with my hands, with my flailing legs, to turn my head and evade his kisses. But I couldn't. His mouth captured mine as I gasped for breath. He caught my wrists in one hand and twisted my arms behind my back so I couldn't break free. And then he entered me.

Pain! Pain, shooting from inside me at the horrible thing he was doing. In a panic I tried to break free of his hold on my wrists, to draw a breath to scream again. But I couldn't, still couldn't get away.

A few minutes or years later, he gripped my wrists tighter and yanked me close as he stood still, and then finally released me.

Screaming would do no good, anymore. Nothing would. I managed to climb off the desk and caught of glimpse of myself in the mirror. My hair was in a wild tangle around me, and my dress was wrinkled from where it had been forced up above my waist. My lips looked red and bruised and my face was tearstained.

I looked up to see Tony looking at me. Concern was etched in his eyes, in his face. He extended a hand to me and I flinched away from it.

"Leigh," he said softly. "I didn't mean…"

But by that time, I was already running out of the room, tears streaming down my cheeks.