I was relieved when it was Mr. Clark who came to get the trailer, and not Reagan. I wasn't sure I would be able to watch my mouth if

she started spouting off.

Once at home again, I carried all my school stuff into the house. I'd brought home a couple

changes from the vet office that I needed to put in the washer downstairs. Instead of doing that right away, I went upstairs to

change my jeans. They were damp on the hems from washing out the trailer.

After I'd done that, I came out of my room, intent on heading down and out to do my chores. The bathroom door was closed,

but I could hear the unmistakable sounds of someone in there, throwing up. Violently vomiting, if that makes sense.

I waited, listening. I knew it had to be Clare. I felt so bad. I waited there, just outside the door, my hand on the door frame.

When there was a brief lull in the sounds inside the bathroom, I tapped just very lightly, and said, "Clare? Do you need anything?"

After a couple of moments, the bathroom door opened, just a bit, and then further, as Clare straightened up, and brushed her

hand over her mouth.

"Hey, toots," she said, barely above a whisper.

"Hey." I regarded her with concern. "What can I do for you?" I asked her.

"Oh, I don't know. Nothing, really, I don't think."

"You wanna lay down for a while?" I asked her. "You should."

"I've been laying down. For the last hour. I really need to get up and get busy doing something."

"It's nothing that won't wait, is it?" I pointed out.

There was a tiny smile at the corner of her mouth, before it faded away.

"I guess."

"You want to lay on my bed?" I offered.

"No. I'll go back up," she said, and headed toward the attic steps.

I followed after her, concerned. "Where's Hannah?"

"She went to the store, I think." She turned to look back at me. "I'll see you later."

I watched her go, concerned. And then, as a thought occurred to me, I went down the stairs, carrying my boots. I went

thru to the kitchen, where I found Guthrie, his hand literally in the cookie jar.

"Hi," I told him.

"Hey." He took a bite out of one of the cookies and watched as I went to put the teakettle on. I got down tea bags, and

pulled the sugar canister out.

"Clare's sick," I told him.

"Again?" Guthrie made it sound as though Clare should be sick once, and then be done with it.

"Yes, again," I said, giving him a perturbed look.

"I thought it was called morning sickness," Guthrie said.

"It is called that. But it can happen anytime of the day, or even all day sometimes," I told him.

Guthrie looked shocked. "No kidding? That sucks."

"I think Clare thinks it sucks, too."

I went on, busily putting a liberal amount of sugar into a cup, and hanging a tea bag in it.

"When is Kenny coming back?" I asked, leaning against the counter to wait until the tea kettle began to whistle.

"Next week," Guthrie said, and I could hear the gladness in his voice.

"I hope none of the kids make it rough for him," I said.

"Trent and Lonnie and I'll make sure they don't," Guthrie said.

I looked at him, concerned. "Adam won't want you fighting."

"Who says I'm gonna need to fight?" Guthrie challenged.

I shrugged. "Hopefully the jackass will keep his mouth shut."

"Yeah."

"I'll bet Kenny's mom is over the moon happy right now."

"She is," Guthrie said. "She's baking stuff and putting it in the freezer so Kenny can have a bunch of desserts."

"I'm gonna head up to help Evan at the cabin," Guthrie said. "You gonna come?"

"I've got chores. Mine and yours, too, remember?" I told him, rolling my eyes.

Guthrie took another cookie from the jar and grinned at me. "Yeah. I could get used to this, not havin' chores to do."

He gave me a wave, and said, "See ya later," as he went out the back door.

The tea kettle began to hiss, and I poured hot water into the cup with the sugar and tea-bag. I stirred it, and dunked the tea bag

a few times. I went up the back stairs, and then up the attic stairs, carrying the hot drink.

At the top of the attic stairs, I didn't see Clare right off. I figured she was in the enclosed part, where the bed is.

"Clare?" I said softly, walking that way.

Clare was curled up on her and Brian's bed, covered with an afghan, and reading some sort of medical book.

"Hey," she greeted me.

"I brought you up some hot tea," I told her.

"Oh. That's really nice," she said, sounding sort of weak.

She half-sat up, reaching out for the cup.

I handed it to her, and sat down on the edge of the bed, as she began sipping at it.

"It's good, thanks," she said.

"It's okay."

Clare took a couple more small sips, and then sat the cup on the night stand, and then laid her head back down.

"I'm sorry you feel so bad," I told her.

"It will pass," she said, and I wondered if she really believed that.

"I'd better get started on chores," I said, and stood up to go.

"See you at supper," she said.

"See you," I echoed, and headed downstairs. Hannah was coming thru the back door at the kitchen, Isaac in one arm, and

a bag of groceries in the other.

"Hi," she said, looking distracted.

"Hi."

"How was your day?" she asked, going to sit the bag on the counter.

"It was okay," I said, thinking that she looked as though her mind was a hundred different places.

"Have you seen Clare?" she asked me, then.

"Yeah. She's resting. She was sick a little while ago."

"Oh, " Hannah said, sounding regretful.

Hannah was looking around, sorting thru the sack of food, and then installed Isaac in his walker.

"Whoo," she said. "I've got to get supper going."

I felt sorry for Hannah. She had so much to do around here.

"I'd help," I told her. "But I've got to do chores-"

"I know, sweetie," she said, patting my arm and still sounding distracted. "You go on."

I went out, going to feed the goats, and thinking about everything that was going on around here. The shower for Nancy was in four days,

and then the wedding was looming on the horizon. All here at the house, with all the work that that entailed. And then the cabin had to

be made livable. And Clare was pregnant, and feeling so lousy. Who knew how long she was going to feel that way? She wouldn't be able to

help much.

When I was done with my chores, I began on Guthrie's. I discovered that he'd already done some. I smiled to myself. That was

like him, to do that before he went to help Evan, and not to tell me.

And that did free up some time. Or so I thought. That was until I heard the Jeep coming, and Crane was driving across the pasture.

He pulled up in front of the barn, and got out, disappearing into one of the sheds.

I was closing the corral gate, where I'd been checking the water in the trough, when Crane came back out of the shed.

I walked over to where he was.

"Hi," I greeted him.

"Hey, kiddo. Have you seen the level?"

I knew what that was. Ever since I was a little girl, I'd found that particular tool sort of interesting.

"No. I haven't seen in it."

"Hmm," he said, looking thoughtful.

"What do you need it for?" I asked.

"At the cabin."

"Oh."

He looked at me, giving me his full attention. "How was the anatomy test?"

"I got a B-," I told him, without fanfare.

He nodded. "Good."

"How is it good?" I protested. "I was going to get an A. Mr. Fornelli said I did well, except I was too vague on the essay

question part."

"Did you do your best?" Crane asked me, pointedly.

"I thought I did."

"Did you do your best?" he repeated, stronger. More insistent.

"Yes," I said, and sighed.

"Alright, then," he said, as if that was the end of it.

"I've got to find that level, and get back up there," he said then. "Are you coming along?"

"I don't know," I said, hesitating. "I need to take care of Pepe, and feed the dogs and cats, and then I think Hannah

could use my help inside. Clare's really feeling sick again."

"A lot going on around here," Crane agreed. "Maybe you had ought to help out inside."

7

And, so, that's what I did. I fed all four of the dogs. The three bigger ones by the barn, and Fat Clarence at the back door. He gets

special treatment from me. I fed the cats, too. They were really growing by now, and I'm not supposed to overfeed them, so that way they

will help with any mice.

After that, I spent a few minutes with Pepe, taking him out of his hutch, and holding him, talking to him. Wearing gloves, per Adam's

order. I noticed that the hole in the roof of the hutch was getting bigger. I gave it a look, wondering if Pepe was making it bigger.

Did skunks do that? Chew at things?

I put him away, thinking I would ask one of the boys to help patch the hole.

I went inside, and pitched in to help Hannah get supper on the table.

7