Alright, alright. Let me have it. I've been terrible to you guys. My remaining 2 followers might be excited to see a new chapter... the rest of you notsomuch! Anyway I hope you can find it in your hearts to forgive me! My lame excuse is writer's block to the extreme.

Okay, I'm not yet positive if this is the direction I want to take with the story, but we'll see how it goes... I hope you enjoy this two-for-one upload deal... :)

One day the letter from my mother came.

She and my dad had been living in British Columbia for almost a year now; since JT and I moved in to their house.

Her note was not urgent, nor did it sound worrisome. It seemed more like a simple statement of fact.

Liberty-

Daddy is sick. It's not serious, but he will be in the hospital for a while. The doctors mentioned something about lymphoma; I don't know how bad it is. Please don't worry. He'll be fine. I just thought you should know.

-Mom

And, to state it literally, that's all she wrote.

I read it the moment I entered the kitchen; JT had handed it to me. My hand flew to my heart as I dropped the letter and grasped for something to hold on to that would keep me steady. Daddy, sick? How was this possible?

He had never been there for me. All he'd ever wanted was a son. I was named Liberty in memoriam of Martin Luther King, Jr., because he provided freedom for all people of color. If I had been a boy, however, my father would have named me exactly after his hero. (Of course, by the time Danny was born, Grandpa had just passed, and my mother had insisted he be named after her father.)

I was never really loved, it felt; my raising depended on rules and strict standards. Never was I permitted to go out to birthday parties and such; schoolwork was always more important to my parents. Eventually my friends stopped inviting me to their parties because I never came. Because of all these regulations which had been set out for me, I became a loner.

They hated JT. A tiny part of me had always figured it was probably because they hated the fact that someone could actually love me; but I knew the truth. They hated him because he brought me to life like no one else could. He had been there for me in all my ups and downs; he'd been there for me when they weren't. Perhaps it was out of guilt that they hadn't raised me well that they gave us their house when we married.

Although this "act of kindness" might have accounted for something, it didn't. I never heard from them again after that. Not one email wondering how I was, or how JT was, or if my life was going well. They had no idea I was a mother again, nor did they know about the Smiths' return and death, and least of all that I was not in college.

And now, for the first time in nearly a year, my mother was making efforts to communicate with me. I was bewildered, for the most part. Though she sounded so heartless in the note, could it have been that she was beside herself with grief at the news of Daddy's illness, so much so that she wanted me to come there and help out? But she couldn't say it for fear of letting down her façade, that she might seem vulnerable. So she was discreet about her request.

But all that was left for me to wonder was why. Why did she want me down there? I was sure Danny would be going too; they'd always loved him more. They didn't need me with them. Not now.

At the same time, how could I say no? It was my family. I loved them, or at least I should have, I assumed. No matter what.

I looked up from my daze. JT was staring at me worriedly. "Are you okay?" He asked tentatively.

I took a breath, and pointed to the note on the table. He picked it up and read quickly, his brow gradually furrowing as he got to the end. He put it down and looked at me.

"You should go." He muttered, walking towards the counter and placing his hands on the cold stone granite.

"I should?"

He nodded at the window, not looking at me.

I hesitated. "Why?"

He turned to me. "Liberty, they're your parents. If you don't go now, you'll regret it. I know you will. You love them. They need you."

I frowned. "They don't― they don't know about James." I whispered.

He nodded. "You should bring him."

I shook my head. "I should bring you."

His expression was hard and firm. "No, Lib. You need to do what's right. Your parents don't want to deal with me right now. They want you. And your baby. Imagine how they'll feel when they see what an amazing mother you've been? You need to do this."

I closed my eyes. "What if… What if they don't love him like I do? What if they're not proud of him like I am? How can I ever… I don't even know how they could ever love a child of mine." Tears came out of the corners of my eyes and I quickly wiped them away.

I felt cool hands on my wet cheeks and looked up. JT was looking determinedly into my eyes. "They will love him, because of the fact that he's yours, not despite. Liberty," his thumbs rubbed my cheeks gently. "You might not know this, but you've made them so proud. Do you hear me?" I nodded, more tears flowing. "Just by being you, beautiful, intelligent, and an all-around good person, you have made them happy. Maybe they don't show it so well, because they're afraid. They're afraid to let you know just how much they love you for fear that they might push you away. They figure it's easier to simply turn away from you; not to show their faces. They think that's the best thing to do. Don't hold their wrong decisions against them."

My face scrunched in a sob as I wrapped my arms around him. "How did I get such a damn perfect husband?"

He smiled into my hair. "Because you're too damn perfect to have anyone else."

After that speech, I just couldn't say no. The next day I was boarding the plane to Victoria, bags in one hand, son in the other.