Saturday, May 23, 2009

"Lilly? Oliver and Joannie are downstairs," Heather called softly through her daughter's door at eight-thirty the next morning.

"Traitors should just die!" the blonde screamed from within the confines of her sheets and blankets.

Lilly had spent a good part of the night quietly crying - first in her truck on the way home, a trip that she barely remembered and was surprised she'd survived without having an accident - and then in the loving arms of her mother. It was the feeling of the strength and love in those arms that allowed her to scream and cry and let it all out. Her mother didn't judge her nor did she try to comfort her, she was just there for her when she needed her. Just as she always had been. Giving her just exactly what she needed. It gave Lilly the strength to eventually drink a cup of hot chamomile tea and go to bed.

Even there she'd cried, only softly so as not to wake her mother. She'd eventually fallen asleep near two, but had awakened again just after seven. Since then Lilly had been lying in bed listening to her mother getting ready to start her day. The shop didn't open until nine, but that didn't stop Heather Truscott from doing as much as she could around the house before leaving. Just a few minutes earlier Lilly had been informed that there were eggs and bacon staying warm in the oven and that they'd finally have birthday cake and ice cream when her mother got home later that evening.

Lilly heard her bedroom door opening and the next thing she knew she was laying beneath the weight of two not so small bodies and trying to get her breath back.

"We're not traitors," Joannie told her from where her body crossed the blonde's hips and legs.

"I knew it wouldn't work. I even tried to warn her, but she wouldn't listen to me. Miley was so damned determined to tell you she was sorry."

"Yeah, great job she did with that," Joannie snarled. She was still furious with the brunette that had hurt her friend. As soon as she'd figured out who it really was beneath that blonde wig she'd been ready to stand up in the middle of the bar and call her out. Only Oliver's gentle but persistent hand on her shoulder kept her in her seat. Once he'd explained everything to her, including how hurt Lilly would be if Joannie tried to get revenge on Miley by revealing her secret, she'd eventually cooled off. But that didn't mean she'd forgiven the singing pop tart.

"At least she tried," Lilly mumbled from beneath the covers. That is until Oliver, who had been lying across her belly and chest, pulled them off her face.

"What's that?" he smirked, tilting his head and turning those sparkling brown eyes on her. "Did I hear that right? Did you just defend Miley Stewart?"

"I can't believe it. This girl is officially pussy-whipped," Joannie laughed.

"Oh, no, she'd have had to actually get some pussy for that," Oliver grinned evilly. "I happen to know for a fact that not only is she still as pure as a 'virgin' forest, but she hasn't even had her first kiss yet."

"That's not true!" Lilly snapped, before her mouth dropped open, her eyes went wide, and her face turned a bright red as she realized what she'd just confessed to.

"Oh, and which of those two statements isn't true, Lillian Truscott?"

"Oops, forgot the mother unit was still here," Joannie mock whispered, covering her mouth with her hand as her eyes laughed at her best friend's sudden predicament.

"I…I have had my first kiss," Lilly answered in a small voice as her face reddened even further as she turned to look at her mother standing in the doorway with her arms crossed over her chest and a smirk on her face.

"Oh, is that all," Heather said as her lips dropped into a somewhat sad smile. "I already knew that."

"How did you know that and we didn't?" Joannie pouted.

"Yeah, I thought you didn't keep secrets from your friends," Oliver accused the blonde with a slightly hurt expression.

"Some things you can only tell your mother," Lilly replied, still in that small voice, her eyes begging her mother not to elaborate. Heather gave her a slight nod that answered her eyes while at the same time telling her that if she wanted to talk later she'd be there for her.

Both of her friends were quiet as they took in Lilly's pained expression.

"Getting back on topic," Oliver spoke into the silence, not surprised to see the relief on the blonde's face, "why are you being so forgiving of Miley all of a sudden?"

"Because," Lilly said with a small smile, "she wrote a song for me."

"But Hannah…" Joannie started to say, but a quick glance from Lilly shut her up. Some things she didn't even share with her mother.

"I'll leave the three of you alone," Heather said, reading the mood. "Just don't stay in bed all day, Lilly."

"Don't worry. We won't let her," Ollie laughed.

"I've got work this afternoon anyway," Lilly added, so with smile and a wave Heather left to head on in to work.

"To answer your question, I had a lot of time to think last night and this morning," the green-eyed girl explained while Joannie moved to take a seat at the foot of her bed and Oliver sat on the edge of the mattress. When he offered his hand, Lilly took it and gave it a squeeze before continuing. "The first five songs were all Hannah Montana and, frankly, I could have cared less," she took a deep breath and then grinned stupidly, "but that last song, that last song was all Miley."

"Then why did you storm out like you did?" Joannie asked with a confused expression.

"Because I was angry and hurt. As you thought when you first walked in here, and as I was thinking last night, the person sitting up there singing wasn't Miley Stewart. It was Hannah Montana. But the more I thought about it, the more I remembered the words to the song and the look in her eyes, I realized that while she might have still been wearing the clothes and wig, she'd completely dropped her Hannah persona."

"So, are you going to forgive her?" Oliver asked in a quiet voice.

"Not yet," Lilly sighed. "She still needs to learn that not everyone is just out for her fame or her money…and," Lilly's voice dropped so that it was hard to hear the next words.

"And she still needs to remember."

There were no words that her friends could say to that, so they both simply moved to embrace her, giving her the hugs that she needed right then as her eyes threatened to tear up again.

-oo-

Where Lilly had Heather to lean on, Miley used Robbie Ray's shoulder as a crying pad most of the night. She'd eventually fallen asleep on the family room couch with his arm around her shoulders and her head on his chest. When she awoke the next morning it was to find herself in her own bed, still in the clothes she'd worn the previous evening, and Mamaw sitting in a chair not too far away.

"M-Mamaw?" the brunette asked confusedly as she tried to squint past the mid-morning sunlight coming through her large windows. "What are you doing here?"

Her grandmother looked up from whatever she had been doing on her Kindle to take in the befuddled and still somewhat puffy red eyes of her favorite grandchild.

"Your father called me earlier this morning and told me about last night. The two of us talked and we agreed that it was time you and me had a little heart-to-heart," Ruthie Ray Stewart said. The words were not spoken unkindly, but neither were they said in a manner where Miley felt that she would have any chance of refusing. That didn't mean she wasn't still a bit confused…and frightened.

She didn't remember everything she had cried to her father about last night, but she distinctly remembered one thing in particular.

The fear must have shown on her face because Mamaw smiled sympathetically and shook her head.

"I'm not gonna say a word about one girl, even my own grandchild, lovin' another girl, sweetheart. If Lilly makes you happy, then I'll be happy. That's all me and your mom and pa would ever wanted for ya, darlin'. We just want you to be happy."

The relief on her face must have been just as obvious because Mamaw let out a soft laugh.

"And if you had to fall in love with another girl, you couldn't have made a better choice than Lilly Truscott. I love that girl as if she were my own. Even with everything that's been thrown at her, she's always been true to herself. She has more strength than any other person I know. And her heart? Oh, dear lordy, that girl's heart is a mile wide and an eternity deep. Lilly has always been willing to lend a helping hand to anyone that needs her."

The look that then crossed her grandmother's face wasn't one that Miley ever wanted pointed in her direction.

"If anyone in this town deserves to be beloved of God, it's that girl. That damn priest don't know what he's missing."

"You don't need to convince me, Mamaw," Miley smiled at her grandmother. "Lilly deserves so much better than the way that some treat her." The smile faded. "Including me. I just wish I could remember…" she trailed off.

"Well, Miley," Mamaw said as she put her Kindle in her oversized purse and stood up from her chair, "why don't you get up and get dressed. I'll help your pa rustle up some breakfast for you and then you and I are gonna take a little ride back out to my place." She gave the young girl a significant look. "There's something I think you need to do."

"Y-yes'm," Miley replied softly.

Why?

This was Mamaw. The woman that had been by her side since before her mother had died. The woman that had been by her side since her birth.

So why was she suddenly so afraid?

-oo-

After a relatively light breakfast of only toast and tea, the selection and quantity enforced by her grandmother, Miley found herself timidly climbing into the passenger seat of Mamaw's old Ford pickup for a trip that would take them to the other side of town and the farm upon which her father had been born and raised. It was also the place where her entire family had lived until…

Until shortly after her mother died.

Every time she asked her grandmother why they were heading back to her place, the most she'd get out of the older woman was a kind of sad smile and, "Don't worry, darlin'. You'll see."

Miley found her trepidation at this trip growing as the miles between her and the farm fell quickly, and Mamaw's secretiveness wasn't helping in the least to slow her rapidly beating heart.

Miley's grandmother finally broke her relative silence as they pulled off the road onto her dirt driveway borderd by well-maintained white, three-board fencing.

"Miley, hun," the older woman softly asked, "do you remember the last time you came out to visit me?"

"Sure. It was last Christmas. We did Thanksgiving at Grandma Ruby's and the Fourth at our place. That's the way we've always done it."

"That's right, sweetie," the woman smiled lovingly. "So can you remember when the last time was that you came out here when it wasn't Christmas?"

"Oh, sure," Miley grinned, "it was…" her smile faltered as she tried desperately to come up with an instance and her mind left her hanging without any support.

"Don't fret none, puddin', but it was just after your mama died and before you left for California," came the sad answer that Miley couldn't supply. "You faithfully come out to visit every Christmas with Robbie Ray and Jackson, along with the rest of the family like, Earl, Bubba Joe, and Luann, even Ruby. But the rest of the year? You've always got an excuse of one kind or another."

When Miley was about to protest, Mamaw held up her hand. "I don't blame you one bit, Miley, I mean it can't be easy for you. I just wanted to get you thinkin' and to realize the truth of the matter."

"Why are you saying this, Mamaw?" the brunette asked in a decidedly timid voice.

"Cause it's something you need to hear, and…there's something I gotta ask you to do for me," came the soft reply. "First, it might be a good idea for us to be gettin' outta the truck."

With a nod of acknowledgement, Miley slowly opened the door and stepped out onto the dirt track that was her grandmother's drive. She'd been studiously avoiding it, but her heart jumped another twenty beats per minute the moment she took in the sight of the old farmhouse that had been her home for the first ten years of her life.

"Can I offer you another cup of tea, dear?" the still dark haired older woman asked as they walked slowly up the porch steps and into the cozy interior of the large house.

"M-maybe just a glass of water?" Miley replied, her mouth suddenly dry and her eyes taking in everything except the stairs to the second floor; the place where her old bedroom resided…along with that of her parents.

"How about a bottle instead," Mamaw smiled as she walked the both of them into the country kitchen.

"S-sure."

Why isn't my tongue working the way it should, Miley wondered? I've got nothin' to be scared of.

Mamaw pulled a bottle of water from her circa 1970's, avocado colored fridge and handed it to her granddaughter.

"So," Miley took a quick swig of water to wet her dry mouth, "so what is it you n-need me to do?"

Her grandmother put a tender arm across her shoulder and walked her over to the large picture window that looked out over the lower pasture and…

Her barn.

A shiver of unexplained fear went through Miley as she took in the sight of the old, dilapidated structure.

"Miley, hun, I need you to go out into the barn for me." As Miley's head unconsciously started shaking a firm no, Mamaw tightened her grip around the young woman's shoulders. "Yes, hun, I need you to go out into the barn, go up into the loft, and sit or lie down in the hay. Can you do that for me?"

"W-why!" Miley squeaked, not even recognizing her own voice with all of the fear it contained.

"It's impossible for me to say, sweetie," Mamaw looked at her intently, "but I really need you to do this for me…no…not for me." She turned the pale face of her much beloved granddaughter to her and looked at her with a mixture of love, compassion, and steel. "You need to do this for yourself, Miley. Otherwise you'll never move past this. You'll never be able to be truly happy. Not unless you do this one thing." As Miley started shaking her head again, Mamaw shook her roughly until her granddaughter's wide, fear-filled eyes looked up pleadingly into her own. "You need to do this, Miley. Not for me, not for your father, but for yourself. Do you understand me?"

Miley stood there a moment staring into her grandmother's unflinching eyes and knew that she wouldn't be able to argue her way out of this. What's more, she had no idea why she was so upset about the prospect of going up into that loft. All she knew was that it scared her to death, but that Mamaw was right. Something, some small part of her was telling her that she needed to do this! She dropped her eyes and her chin nearly hit her chest before she answered in one of the softest voices she's ever used.

"O-okay, Mamaw."

Before what little shred of strength she had left her completely, Miley turned and walked out the back door onto the rear porch to stare with foreboding at the decrepit old barn.

From here the building looked like it was straight out of a slasher horror flick. Like Jason or Freddy or Mike were just waiting for her to step through those doors.

Marshaling her courage she stepped down the two short steps onto the neatly trimmed back lawn and started walking toward the barn. Even though the morning sun was shining she would have sworn up and down that there were storm clouds hovering over the building just waiting to unleash deadly streaks of lightning. She suppressed the shiver that ran down her back and straightened up.

"One small step for man…" she murmured to herself.

The closer she walked, the more she realized that the barn actually wasn't in as horrible a shape as she'd first thought. Yes, the board siding was weathered, but it looked clean and she could even see brighter colored slabs of redwood where it was obvious older boards had been replaced. The imagined clouds over the barn didn't disperse, but it almost seemed as if the closer she got, the more the sun were trying to break through.

Unfortunately, the clouds in her mind were still there when she stepped up to the tall and wide double doors. She noticed that her hand was shaking as she reached up and undid the simple catch that held the doors closed. Taking one last deep breath, she grasped the handle for the left hand door and pulled it open just enough for her slender body to slip through into the darkened interior.

No characters from horror movies immediately jumped out at her and she loudly let go the breath that she'd been holding.

The inside of the barn was just as neat and clean as she would expect of any place Mamaw kept. All the tools hung in their proper places on the walls while bags of chicken feed and seed corn from the last harvest were laid out in rows on top of wooden pallets. The old but functional, faded green John Deere tractor sat smack dab in the middle of the open space in front of the door, its multiple attachments arranged within easy maneuvering distance against the left wall.

Windows placed high on the side walls let in plenty of light so that there were only a few shaded corners. Listening closely she could hear what sounded like field mice moving around behind and most likely within the bales of hay stored in the back.

All-in-all, it didn't look anything like the fear-ridden place in Miley's mind, but that didn't matter to her shaking limbs.

Summoning every bit of determination she could muster, the blue-eyed brunette strode over to the plain wooden ladder, put her water bottle in her hip pocket, and climbed up into the only slightly darker loft.

It was just as she remembered it. Low piles of fluffy straw filled the open space beginning about four feet from the edge and gradually getting taller the closer they got to the back wall. The air was warm and surprisingly fresh smelling with that scent that you could only get on a working farm. It was nostalgic.

And terrifying.

"I will do this, dammit!" Miley admonished her quaking legs, forcing herself to move further into the bedding and take a seat, pulling the water bottle out of her back pocket and setting it down to her right. Without thought she moved into a more comfortable position, crossing her legs, ankles over her knees.

Glancing around, the loft didn't seem like a place that would or could induce fear. The sun was bright where it angled down from a nearby window, bathing the straw and exposed wood such that she could easily imagine Rumplestiltskin and the miller's daughter spinning the brightly glowing straw into threads of gold. Tiny motes of straw and dust sparkled in the air. Instead of fear, it looked more like the perfect place to relax.

If she wasn't still shivering.

Taking a deep breath, Miley closed her eyes and lay back to try to calm her rapidly beating heart. With her eyes closed she could feel the warmth of the sun on her face and arms, the insides of her eyelids bright pink from its life giving light and heat. Slowly but surely her heart calmed to a more natural pace and the fear drew back. It got to the point where she could feel a smile trying to break free.

Opening her eyes once again she was faced with the specter of a ghost hovering over her. She nearly screamed in terror until she realized that it wasn't actually a ghost. Instead, she felt the beginnings of a raging migraine headache.

The ghost was just there, hovering over her prone body. It was obviously smaller than she was but was like a mirror image of her larger self.

Her headache continued to grow as the image seemed to try to solidify. The pain got so bad that it was nearly impossible for her to keep her eyes open with the sunlight spearing them like red hot pokers. When the image started to lean down toward her, and her up toward it, the ghost firming and taking shape in her mind, the pain grew excruciating until, just as their faces touched, her head exploded in a pain so great she knew she was having a stroke.

As she succumbed to the blackness, one last fleeting, surprising thought flitted through her pain wracked mind.

Lilly?