RACHEL

"And time goes by so slowly, and time can do so much. Are you . . . still MIIIIIINNE?"

Rachel, as she will freely admit, has a horrendous singing voice. Bad enough that she restricts her singing to solo car rides. She won't even risk singing in the shower, because there's always someone (a husband, and before that a roommate, and before that a boyfriend, and before that an annoying little brother) who'll inevitably hear you in there.

So, singing is for car rides only, and this? "Unchained Melody" with its ridiculously over-the-top pathos and wailing strings and "Lonely rivers sigh, wait for me, wait for me. I'll be coming home, wait for meeeeee"? Well, it's the best variety of horrible singer car ride solos.

God, she loved this movie. What self-respecting 12 year old didn't? Love violently ended too soon and shirtless Patrick Swayze and aching, tangible grief only partly assuaged through the help of a ghost talker? All that, and pottery, too? Aw, yeah.

Now? Now, OK, it seems a bit much. And that magical, sigh-inducing kiss? Stuff of 12-year-old fantasies? Yeah, that's movie magic, because that grieving not-quite-widow was actually kissing professional seer and scam artist, one Ms. Oda Mae Brown . . .

Aaaaaaaaand . . . CLICK. Another piece of the puzzle fits into place. Dad's inexplicable nickname for Uncle Miles. It made her giggle when Ghost came out. Whoopi Goldberg going by Uncle Miles' nickname, and now she knows what Uncle Miles used to be and, well, huh. Huh. This keeps happening. Guns 'N Roses, and Ghost, and Mom once saying something about Kimberly in a wig on Melrose Place. She's starting to wonder how she could've been so clueless for so long.

She turns down the sun visor to block the blinding morning sun. She sees the Dali exhibit tickets clipped there with a binder clip. She's passing Mom and Dad's neighborhood now. She's got time to make a quick drop off. Do it now before work, actually easier than dropping them off after work, when Mom will probably try to convince her to stay for dinner, and Dad will get all annoying again about Anson being on the road.

She's got the time. She puts on the blinker, turns down their street and into their driveway. Huh. Unfamiliar car here. She wonders if Uncle Miles got a new one. She grabs the tickets, hops down from the Jeep. She tests the front door, and it's unlocked, so she lets herself in.

"Helloooooo?" she calls from the foyer. No answer, but she hears voices in the kitchen, so heads back there.

"Hello?" she tries again as she approaches the kitchen. Walking in, she says, "I'm on my way to work, but thought I'd drop off these tickets. If you come on Tuesday I can show you . . . uh. . ." she stops short. Why, there is Ms. Kate Austen, looking guilty about something. Wonder who she slept with this time, the hussy. Not fair, not fair. She gets it now, how Kate didn't know about Dad and Jimmy, but even so. EWWWWWWWWWWWWW.

She looks over to Dad, but he looks like a whipped puppy, so she tries Mom, who looks suspiciously serene. The kind of calm she looks before she drops the hammer and tells you she knows you really weren't at the movies with Jen like you said you were. Rachel actually gets nervous even though she's 30 and, seriously . . . she can't be in trouble, right? What's going on?

She looks back to Kate. She's not as scary as Mom is. Wait. Someone else here, too. She turns to look at the woman standing across from Dad at the island. This woman's so familiar. Has Rachel met this woman somewhere? Rachel tilts her head, squints. She looks familiar. "What . . .what's going on here?" she asks.

"You must be Sawyer's daughter," the stranger says.

Who's Sawy . . . oh, right, Dad. "Yeah, hi. I'm Rachel, nice to meet you," she says, and reaches out her hand.

The woman shakes her hand and smiles a big Cheshire Cat grin. All she says is, "I'm Cassidy Phillips. So nice to meet you."

Everyone else looks really really awkward. Mom looking scarily serene, Dad looking like he's going to be sick, Kate with her mouth twisted and eyebrows raised. Meanwhile, this lady here looks like Rachel's a Christmas present she can't wait to unwrap.

Well, shit. Shit. "Don't tell me. You slept with Dad, too?" The stranger, Cassidy, nods. Rachel says, "Right, Dad? Huh? You slept with both of them?" She points over at Kate and Cassidy.

"Oh, sweetheart," smarms Cassidy. She clucks her tongue. "Oh, no, no, no. Me and Kate? We're just the tip of the iceberg. There's no telling how many women he's slept with."

GUHHHHHHHROSSSSSS! Who are all these women and what the hell is wrong with them? ? ? ?

Everyone is looking so very uncomfortable, staring at the floor, looking sick, generally the most awkward room ever, and Mom pipes up with. "She's right, but I like to think we're the Board of Directors of that larger group."

Cassidy's mouth drops open, and she turns to stare at Mom. Then she actually laughs. Kate says, "Hear, hear!" and raises a glass as a toast, and except for Dad, who's looking more than a little green around the gills, the tension seems to be draining somewhat.

Mom keeps on, "And as Chairman of the Board, I move that we sit and have breakfast."

Cassidy looks at Mom. "You're . . . funny," she says.

"I've found a sense of humor comes in handy sometimes," Mom says, and sits. She starts piling fruit on her plate. "Rachel, can you stay for breakfast?" she asks. See? Mom's always trying to feed her.

"No. No, I have to get to work, but . . . No. Stop distracting me. You," she turns to Cassidy. "Who are you? I want to know what's going on."

Cassidy looks to Mom, and Mom nods, so Cassidy turns back to Rachel. Before she starts, she digs in her purse and pulls out a school picture of a little girl. "This is my daughter, Clementine." (That's kind of a weird name. And . . . familiar). "She's seven. Her father is . . ."

Rachel snatches the picture from her before she can finish. She knows how it'll end. She looks at the picture. "Dad, is this true?"

He nods, still looking sick.

"Did you know about this?" she asks/accuses Mom.

Mom nods, still looking eerily calm.

She looks back at the picture in her hands. She should probably sit. She should, but . . . "This . . . this happened uhm, . . . before, right? Before you crashed?"

Dad nods. Has he even opened his mouth since she got in here? He looks really sad.

She reaches out to him, and squeezes his shoulder. "Oh, God, Dad, I'm so sorry. I didn't know . . . you must've missed her so much. How old was she when you crashed?"

And why is she just hearing about this now? Wouldn't this be the first thing Dad would do? Look up his daughter? Then again, it wasn't like Mom looked up her sister very first thing.

Cassidy says, "She was three, and I doubt he missed her. He never bothered to meet her."

"That's right," Dad finally speaks. "That's absolutely right."

"I . . ." Rachel looks down at the picture again. She turns it over. "Clementine, 1st grade," it reads. Clementine . . . Clementine. . . . Clementine. "Jesus!" Rachel blurts. "I met you . . . I met you! Mom, we met her" she points at Cassidy. Then she looks at her. "You borrowed my phone. In the prison parking lot. Dad!" she turns on him. "Dad! You were an asshole son of a bitch! How could you? How could you?"

Before Dad can answer, Cassidy says, "I remember you. I remember. What . . . what were you doing there?" Rachel doesn't really know, giving away money she thought at the time. She turns to Mom. Cassidy and Kate do as well.

Mom says, "When we first got sent back in time, I kept hoping there was a way to change things, so that my life wouldn't turn out how it had." Rachel rolls her eyes. Jesus F. Christ, Mom, answer the damn question. Mom keeps going, "But there came a time when I hoped against hope that we couldn't change things, because I didn't want to lose the life I had. And then we started realizing that we needed to engineer things. Things had to happen a certain way. We gave a research grant to, well, me." She stops and looks at Kate. "We, uh, influenced the DA to go easy on your sentence." Kate's mouth drops open, and she looks over to Dad. Rachel sees her mouth the words "thank you," and tears spring to her eyes. Dad nods.

Mom says, "And we set it up so that Sawyer could do that favor for the warden. So he could give money to his daughter. That's why we were at the prison." She looks at Rachel. "You suggested that she show him a baby picture." Yeah, Rachel remembers. Mom says, "That's what always happened. Everything happened the way it always happened."

Dad says, "Rach, I swear to God, I wanted to do right by her. You can ask Mom. You can ask Uncle Miles. That's what we asked Kate to help us with. She and Cass are friends." He goes to sit down next to Cassidy. "I can't never make it right, I know that. You tell me what you want."

Rachel's phone rings. She looks at it. Dammit. Tania at the museum. She's supposed to meet with her in twenty five minutes. Dammit. She punches 'ignore.' "I . . . I have to go to work," she manages to choke out. How is she supposed to work? She has a sister? All her life she wanted a sister, and now she has a seven year old one? The hell?

Actually, you know what? Work. Yes, work. Things are normal there. "I have to go," she says again.

Mom says, "Sweetheart, are you OK?"

"Fine, Mom. I . . . need some time, all right? Just . . . I . . .I need to go to work." She turns on her heel and flees out the front door. She prays none of them are following her. She needs fresh air. She needs to clear her head. She needs to get to work. The UV filters on the Dali exhibit are all wrong. She needs . . . she needs someone to talk to. She needs someone to understand how absolutely off the wall this is.

She gets in the Jeep, fishes her phone out of her purse. Calls Anson. Please answer, please, please. I really need to talk to you.

"Hey, you've reached Anson Mitchell. Sorry I missed you. Leave a message."

Dammit. She slams the phone down on the passenger seat. What sort of fucking message is she supposed to leave? She takes a deep breath, backs out of the driveway.

He's still flying to Scranton, she guesses, and she's not even sure where or when his layover is. God, they'll both be so glad when this is all over. Once he's home for good, no more traveling. Then he can concentrate on what he really wants to do, which is more artsy, less photodocumenting the life of Scranton Joe Biden.

Sure, they've been joking about it for weeks, desperately trying to find the humor, and Anson says he'll be sure to stop by Schrute Farms. He says he hopes it's not too hard in Scranton. Rachel says "that's what she said." Bah dum dum. But The Office humor only goes so far when the truth is, Anson's starting to hate his job, and Rachel's starting to really want him around more. Besides, you ultimately get to joking about tall, goofy, half-charming, half-irritating guys named Jim, and that's what you have little brothers for . . .

That's what you have little brothers for . . .THAT'S who's going to understand how absolutely off the wall this is . . .

She's stopped at a light. She picks the phone up again. Calls Jimmy. Please answer, please, please. I really need to talk to you. God, he's off boarding. Whenever he's off at Tahoe, he's usually on the mountain as soon as the lifts open. He's probably been out there for a few hours at least. He's not going to pick up his phone.

"What?"

He answered! Wonders never cease. Thank you. Thank you. Good morning, little brother, got some news! "Jimmy, I just left Mom and Dad's. There was a woman over there and she has a daughter. And and and and, Dad's that little girl's father! She's seven. Jimmy, we have a little sister, and . . ."

"Wait. . . What?"

"And I have to go to work, but I . . . I don't know what to do or who knows or maybe I should just go try to find Uncle Miles or . . .Maybe turn around and go back to Mom and Dad's. . ."

"No . . . no, just just . .." Oh, hell, Jimmy and his stammering. So, "No?" he thinks she shouldn't go tearing off to Uncle Miles or go back to Mom and Dad's . . no, right. She needs to go to work. She does. She does.

Jimmy says, "Hold on. Don't . . . I'll call you back." He sounds calm and collected. OK, good.

"Yeah, please. Call me. I'm going to work. Call me . . ." but she realizes he's hung up on her already. "At lunchtime," she finishes lamely, talking to the disconnected phone.

OK, good. Good. She'll go to work. Good. Thank you, Jimmy. Thanks for listening . . . and then she laughs, because she realizes that Jimmy didn't say a damn thing except a few "whats" and a "wait" and some good old-fashioned Jimmy stammering.

JIMMY

He paces, chewing his thumbnail, watching Lauren on the phone. He's spilled the beans . . . all of it and there's also the little sister. . . ZOIKES! A little sister? ? ? Just out of the blue? Criminy! But, wait, no, one crisis at a time, please. There's that one, some little sister he's never even met and an adult sister losing her shit over it, and who knows what with Mom and Dad, but they'll get it all sorted out. They will.

So, for now, he'll focus on this other crisis, which is he just told Lauren his parents are time travelers (were? How does that work? It's not like they travel through time anymore. . . Focus, Jimmy). He explained everything, and he's pretty sure she almost, sort of, just about believes him. She's on the phone with Aunt Rachel, getting confirmation, and all Jimmy hears is a lot of "Mmm hmmms," and "uh huhs" and "OK."

He really really wants this to work, and the cross-country bit is enough of a challenge. Why throw in "Jimmy is a deluded lunatic" on top of it? She has to believe him. She has to. He really really likes her.

She hands over the phone. "She wants to talk to you."

Jimmy takes the phone. "Hey."

"OK, I hope you're happy, mister. I just blabbed the whole story, and I swear, if this gets me in trouble with your mother . . ."

"It won't. I promise. It won't. They've got bigger fish to fry anyway."

"What's that supposed mean?" she spits.

"I . . . just . . . you know . . ." Crap. What does Aunt Rachel know? Does she know about this mysterious little sister? Is he supposed to tell. Fuckin' A. All his life wishing he had a bigger family, aunts, uncles, grandparents . . .turns out it's complicated. Who knows what and who told who what and, Jesus, Uncle Miles, you were good enough for us, man. Good enough for us.

Aunt Rachel bails him out. "You know what, Jimmy? Don't worry about it. I'm sorry to take it out on you. It's your goddamn mysterious mother. She's always been so secretive. I'm not sure why I'd expect her to be any different at 67 than 27. I'll give her a call."

"OK, thanks."

"And, Jimmy?"

"Yeah?"

"Lauren's a really good person . . ."

Crap. See? Now he has an aunt to lecture him on proper treatment of women, when he's gotten enough of that from his dad, thank you very much. He cuts her off. "Yeah! I think so too, don't worry, I'm not . . ."

"Let me finish. She's a really good person. Now, I've only just met you, but you're my dear sister's only son. You seem like a great guy, Jimmy, and I'm not just saying that. So, don't . . . tell me I'm not on speaker?"

"You're not on speaker."

"OK, tell her I told you this, and I will fly out to LA and kick your ass personally, but she's been talking a lot about quitting her job and going back for her PhD. Apparently UCLA has a really good program. Just saying."

He grins. "OK, thanks, wow. OK, that's actually really interesting."

Maybe having an aunt isn't such a bad thing after all . . .

He hangs up, and stares at Lauren. "So, you believe me?" he asks.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do. God help me, I do." She laughs. That laugh is awesome. He could make it his ringtone. "So, now what?" she asks.

"Wanna go out for breakfast?" It's closer to lunchtime, but even so . . .

"You don't need to call home or deal with any of that?"

He waves away the suggestion and snorts. "That's all gonna still be going on when we get back from eating."

"Really? Because your sister sounded more than a little bit freaked out."

"That's just the way she is. She tends to over-react sometimes. When the thing to do is just stay calm. Things'll work their way out."


Except his phone rings midway through his stack of pecan pancakes. "Mom Cell." He holds up the screen to Lauren. "This promises to be interesting," he says. "Should I answer?" She nods.

"Hey, Mom. How's it going? Having a nice day?" he coos at the phone.

"By the tone of your voice, I'm guessing you've spoken with your sister."

"I dunno, Mom. I guess you're gonna have to be more specific. Which sister do you mean?"

"I do not need your smart mouth, young man."

"OK, sorry. Why are you calling? Where's Dad?"

"He's walking Kate and Cassidy to the car. He said go ahead and call you. Since Rachel knows, we need to tell you, too. He'll talk to you as soon as he gets back in."

"Sure, OK," so what are he and Mom supposed to talk about in the meantime? "Read any good books lately?" he snarks, wondering how long it's gonna take Dad to walk Kate and . . . and . . . what did Mom say?

"Jimmy, don't . . ."

"What did you say her name was? Dad's uhm . . ." (baby mama? ex-girlfriend? ex-wife?)

"Cassidy."

"I've met her. Holy shit, Mom. I . . . at Kate's. . . twice. . . I. . .I. . .I met, oh, geez, I met her daughter . . . I. . ."

"Here's Dad now!" Mom chirps, and Jimmy can hear the relief in her voice. Leave the dirty work for Dad. Fair enough, Jimmy assumes, it is Dad's dirty work, after all.

"Hey, champ," Dad says. "So, what, we got scooped? Little Ms. Roberta Woodward beat us to the punch?"

Jimmy scoffs. All this to deal with, and Dad's calling Rachel by stupid nicknames. Figures. "Dad, I met her."

"I know you did."

"Oh, OK." So, what now? "She's a really great little kid, Dad. I mean, from what I can tell. God, you must really miss her."

Silence.

"Dad? You still there?"

"Yeah, yeah. Naw, I can't really miss her. I ain't never met her before."

Jimmy puzzles out the math. Dad should've crashed four years ago. That kid is way older than four. "I don't understand."

"He momma was one of them women I conned. Stole her life savings, and when I hit the road, she was already pregnant."

"Oh."

"I didn't know that, but, truth is, it wouldn't a made a difference even if I did."

"Oh." That's a horrible, no-good, shitty, fucked-up thing to do, Dad. Didn't anyone ever tell you about treating women right and not being an asshole and not making promises you can't keep and unintended consequences and . . .

Aaaaaaaaand . . . BLOOP. Another piece of his life slides into place. Like the backwards "L" falling down from the Tetris sky and fitting in the slot left for it. Holy fucking crap. All his life, all this weird talk of "unintended consequences," and Jimmy always thought he was talking about Mom getting pregnant with Rachel. Rachel can be a goddamn pain in the ass sometimes, but for the most part, she's pretty cool, and if by "unintended consequences" Dad meant having stick with Mom for the rest of his life, then why does he seem so happy with her all the time? It never, ever, ever added up.

Never make a promise you can't keep. Never . . .

Jimmy must've been in high school when Dad freaked him out with that. Ten years ago at least, and . . . life kind of makes more sense when you know all the facts.

"Jimmy? You still there?"

"Whenever you talked about 'unintended consequences,' you didn't mean Rachel."

"What I said was, you had to be prepared to deal with unintended consequence. Rachel was one I was prepared to deal with. Plus, you know, just loved your mom so much, couldn't imagine bein' without her."

That's insanely cheesy. "She's right there listening, isn't she? You're trying to brown nose."

"Little bit, yeah."

Jimmy laughs. "What now, Dad?

"Mom and me are goin' to lunch with her tomorrow, and just see how it goes. You and Rach sit tight, let us deal with this, OK? And here's another thing. Cass don't want to explain all the time travel and shit. By 'and shit,' I mean the fact I'm a thievin' bastard who's s'posed to be dead anyway. So, for now I'm a long-lost uncle, got it? That's the cover story."

Jimmy rolls his eyes. Another cover story. Great. Sure, got it, sure. "Yeah, OK, sure, Dad."

"Yeah, ain't you I gotta worry about. It's that effin' unintended consequence of a big sister you got. We'll let you know, Jimmy. When do you get back?"

"Sunday."

Not even forty eight more hours. Screw his crazy, wacked-out, time-traveling loony bin of a family. He and Lauren leave the breakfast joint. He calls Rachel, tells her it's all going to be all right. He turns off his phone, and spends the rest of his time with Lauren in bed.

JULIET

James slept away the afternoon, and good for him. She knows he hasn't slept well in at least a week. This morning with Cassidy, that went . . .OK. It went fine. Not the disaster he feared. Not the glorious flowers and rainbows and "welcome to your daughter's life" that absolutely no one expected. They're going to get to meet Clementine, although Cassidy made it abundantly clear that James isn't supposed to say who he really is. She can tell that hurt him, but he understands.

She spent the afternoon on the phone. Rachel called to say, "Do you know what your son's doing? And who he's doing it with?" Turns out his trip to Tahoe involves Rachel's neighbor who happens to be Anson's cousin who she vaguely remembers from the wedding. She needs to quit being surprised by how small the world can be. Rachel talks up this girl, woman, Lauren. "She's good people, Jules. You don't need to worry about her."

Miles called to ask how it went, then admitted this morning's "board meeting" was a lie. "You kidding me? If I was around, he'd of taken it all out on me. No sir, no desire to be his punching bag today."

Kate called to check in, to say that Cassidy seemed to be doing OK. A little shaken, but OK.

Juliet's made grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup for dinner, and is a little surprised to see Rachel's Jeep pull into the driveway. She makes a third sandwich for her daughter. They sit, mostly in silence, James and Rachel warily eyeing each other. Those two. James sprinkles Tabasco on his sandwich, hands it over to Rachel without a word. Two peas in a pod, those two. Except Rachel turns away the Tabasco. "Gives me heartburn," she says.

James shifts in his seat. "Where's Anson at tonight?"

"Don't start, Dad."

Here they go again. To Juliet's surprise, James doesn't start. To her further surprise, Rachel answers the question. "Scranton. He's in Scranton."

James reaches out and pats her hand. "He'll be home for good soon. Sorry to bring it up, sweetie. You know we wanna help him out with studio space or anything he needs for anything. . ."

"I know, Dad, but he wants to try to do it on his own."

Anson's giving up the photojournalist gig after the inauguration. Staying home, focusing on "Photography as Art." It's best to imagine "Photography as Art" in James' most sarcastic, sneering tone, because that's what he says in private. In public, to Rachel (and Anson), he's all Supportive Dad.

"You let us know, OK?"

"I will."

They walk her to the door. "I love you, Dad," she says, hugging him on the front porch. They watch until she's backed out of the driveway and driven off into the night. She never mentions Cassidy or Clementine.

"That went well," James says, voice full of awe. He shakes his head. "She's all grown up." Juliet knows he's thinking of her purple-hair, sneaking-around-behind-their-backs, cigarette-hiding days.

He says, "She's a good person," and it seems like this fact blows his mind.


Today's the day. Lunch with Clementine. James didn't throw up this morning. That's an improvement. He did call Miles to chew him out over some teensy tiny dustup over borrowed cufflinks. She thinks Miles is wise to steer clear until this all gets sorted out. She remembers Miles' nasty shiner of a quarter century ago. Never found out precisely what provoked that, but she doesn't need to know. All she needs to know is this: Miles stirs the pot, James boils over. Some things never change.

Or sometimes everything changes. This is what they've had forever: Miles stirs the pot, James and Rachel boil over, Juliet and Jimmy put a lid on it. It works. It does. It always has and always will. Or always would, if they didn't mess with the balance. Now they've added another Rachel who stirs the pot and sometimes boils over, too. Clementine's only seven, they can handle that, but she comes with Cassidy who's got every reason in the world to stir this particular pot.

It's a family-friendly, breakfast-all-day joint, with crayons at the table. The ambient noise is loud enough to drown out your whining daughter, or your son who doesn't get the concept of "inside voice," or you yelling at them to sit on "your bottom or your knees. Sit down! Sit DOWN!" Yeah, there was a place in Ann Arbor just like this, and she can't believe she misses those days, but she kind of does.

Cassidy and Clementine are waiting in a booth in the back corner. Cassidy looking in their direction, Clementine with her head down, busy with crayons and a coloring sheet.

James is clutching at Juliet's hand like his life (or hers) depends on it. It hurts, actually. "It's OK," she whispers to him, twisting her hand in his bone-crushing grip of death. He misses the hint. You can let go now. She tugs a little harder.

"Don't let go," he snaps at her.

"Ease up, then. It hurts," she whispers.

They approach the table, and Clementine looks up at them. James squeezes harder, but Juliet misses it. She misses everything. Her lungs squeeze tight and her vision blurs at the edges. Oh, God, she can't breathe. . . it's like looking into a magic mirror and seeing little girl Rachel again. Same eyes, same nose, same expression Rachel got when she was coloring. Before she got braces. Before she learned to drive, graduated from college, got married, turned thirty, got pregnant . . . OH GOD IT ALL GOES SO FAST.

Clementine smiles up at them, she looks behind them, back to them, up at her mom. She says, "Mom said Jimmy probably wasn't coming, but I colored this for him just in case." Cassidy gestures for them to sit in the booth bench on the opposite side of the table. James reaches out and takes the colored page. It's a duck wearing a t-shirt with the restaurant's logo.

The first thing James ever says to his daughter is, "I'll make sure he gets it. I bet he'll love it."

Clementine says, "Is it true? Mom says you're Jimmy's dad."

The second thing James ever says to his daughter is, "That's right. I'm Jimmy's dad."

Clementine smiles. "He's real nice."

The waitress, noticing new diners at the table, swoops in with ice waters and menus. Juliet takes a big slurp of water, temporarily relieving the dry mouth caused by the eerie feeling of staring at a little girl version of her grown-up daughter. Of course, seven-year-old Rachel never would've said Jimmy was "real nice."

Clementine says, "So, are you really my uncle? Or is that just something Mom said?"

Alarmed looks all around. James always said you can't bullshit kids, but by hook or by crook, they somehow managed to bullshit their own kids. Or was it even bullshitting?

Clementine says, "Like Kate isn't really my aunt but I call her that anyway. Mom says you're Uncle Jim, but she always said I didn't have any uncles, so you're just a fake uncle like Kate is a fake aunt, right?"

"That's right," James grins proudly at her. He's known her fall all of two minutes, but he's already proud of her smarts. He's adorable, Juliet thinks.

Clementine looks at Juliet. Juliet says a silent prayer that she's not freaking the kid out by staring too intensely. She's picking up the ways she's different than Rachel was. Her eyes aren't blue, for one thing. Her hair's stick straight, for another. Clementine says, "Aaron told me that Jimmy told him that you got a turtle for Jimmy when he was little." Juliet nods, and Clementine non sequitors, "Jimmy and Aunt Kate aren't going on dates anymore. Before Jimmy she lived with a doctor, but I never met him." She shrugs. "People never stay together very long, do they?" There's another way she and Rachel are different. Juliet feels her heart crack just a little.

The waitress takes their orders. The meal is kind of awkward. They can't expect a seven-year-old to carry the conversation, but what are the grown-ups supposed to talk about? Hey, remember that time I stole all your money? Remember when I denied she was mine? Good times. Juliet finds herself trying to fill conversational gaps, chattering on about Christmas shopping and "this time of year," and blah de blah de blah blah blah blah.

James gets blueberry pancakes, and he tells Clementine a story about Jimmy getting blueberry juice all over his hands when he was five. "He looked like a Smurf." Clementine loves the story, Cassidy glares. Hey, remember that time I stole all your money? Remember when I denied she was mine? Then I went off and had a family I actually spent time with? Want to hear more about those days?

Awkward.

Cassidy says, "You know, she's not normally so talkative around strangers." Juliet doesn't miss James' grimace. He's her dad, but more than that, he's a stranger.

Awkward. Juliet reminds herself that it's Clementine they're here for. Cassidy is a lost cause.

James takes the check at the end of the meal.

"Thanks," Cassidy mumbles.

"You don't gotta thank me for nothin'," he says.

She stares at him for a few seconds. She starts to speak, clamps her mouth shut. She looks over to Juliet, then back to James. She says, "Clem loves to swim. I was telling her you all have a heated pool."

The look on James' face . . . Juliet's seen it before. When she said she'd "marry" him. "Yes, yes, James. Yes." The doctor in Ann Arbor, "It's a girl!" and "My name's Juliet, and I'm going to have a baby." And, "Booyah, boys! Read 'em and weep, we're millionaires!"

James clearly can't speak, so she speaks for him. "We do have a heated pool, and we'd love to have you over some time."

"Will Jimmy be there?" Clementine asks.

James gets his voice back. "Heck yeah, he'll be there. I'll ground him till he's fifty if he doesn't come."

Clementine giggles.


They drive home in silence. It's drizzling and gray. Juliet, driving, pays attention to the road.

James finally says, "I can't decide whether to be happy 'cause she's gonna come over or sad 'cause I only just met her today."

Juliet nods, glides to a stop at a red light.

He says, "I figured out what you been thinkin' since the other day in the kitchen, starin' at that Dali postcard."

"And what's that?"

"You're thinkin', 'There but for the grace of God go I.'"

"Nope."

"Bullshit."

"I'm thinking, 'There but for the grace of God goes Rachel.' You conned Cassidy. I read your file, James. You were very good at what you did, and she fell for it. She has every right to be angry at you. What you did was criminal. I knew all about that. All of that and more, and still I jumped in feet first and eyes wide open. I knew who you were and took the risk anyway. If you'd left me high and dry, I'd have no one to blame but myself. Cassidy and I really don't have that much in common. Those girls, though . . .It wouldn't have been Rachel's fault that I was a stupid idiot. Just like it's not Clementine's fault that you were a thieving bastard. So it's not me I'm thinking about. What I can't stop thinking about is how lucky Rachel is. Jimmy, too, I guess. I mean, I knew from the start that we both wanted him, but if you'd have ditched me and Rachel, he wouldn't even exist."

The light turns green. She steps on the gas.

"Boy, he made an impression on Clem, didn't he?"

Juliet smiles. She can't help it. Hearing good things about her children is always wonderful.

James says, "Damn. My son's a better man than I could ever imagine bein'. Damn."

Juliet watches the road. The rain's picked up a little. She flips the wipers from intermittent to slightly less intermittent.

James says, "That's your openin' to say somethin' like that ain't true, or tell me that I am a good man or some other bullshit."

She doesn't look at him. "But it is true. What you said. He is a better man. He had a better father than you could imagine. He didn't get to be who he is through luck, James. You were . . . you are . . . an amazing father . . . and now you get to do what you can for that little girl. Maybe she'll never know who you are, but that shouldn't stop you from trying to be there for her, for however many years you have left."

"I will," he says.

"I know you will."

CLEMENTINE

Here's something cool: Jimmy's mom and dad have a heated pool. So, even though it's December, you can still swim. They've got outdoor heaters and everything. It's super cool, and when school starts back in January, Clementine'll have to tell her friends.

Jimmy was this guy Aunt Kate dated. They broke up, though. "No one stays together forever," Mom says. She says that's just something that happens in fairy tales. But the good news is that Jimmy's dad is like some old friend of Mom's or something (something Clementine can NOT figure out). He is Uncle Jim. Clementine doesn't really understand that at all. Kate's not Mom's sister, but Clem calls her "Aunt Kate" 'cause she and Mom are such good friends. Uncle Jim isn't Mom's brother or uncle or anything, and it seems like Mom really really extremely dislikes him. (Clementine isn't ever supposed to say "hate." She's supposed to say "extremely dislikes." Like, "I extremely dislike lima beans.")

Still, though, she's gotten to come over here and swim and spend the whole day here. She's gotten to see Jimmy again, too. He's so nice to her. He makes her throw him tennis balls while he jumps off the diving board. He makes huge splashes when he lands in the water. His sister is really nice, too. Her name is Rachel. She doesn't jump in the pool and make splashes, but she let Clementine help her decorate Christmas cookies. She's married, and one time when her husband walked by, Rachel put red frosting on his nose. He said he looked like Rudolph. Rachel kissed him on his nose, and licked off the frosting. They're funny.

Mom seems to like Rachel. That's who she talks to most of the afternoon.

Jimmy's mom is Aunt Juliet. She has really pretty eyes, and a lot of times, she puts her hand on the top of Clementine's head and pats her. She makes Clementine wish she had a grandma. Mom's mom died before Clementine was born. And Clem doesn't have a father, so she doesn't know about those grandparents. Well, of course she had a father, but she never met him before he died in a plane crash.

Uncle Jim is Jimmy and Rachel's dad. The one Mom extremely dislikes. Mom never says that, but Clementine can tell. She wonders why, because he's really funny, kind of like Jimmy is. He keeps calling her "Amelia Bedelia." She says "It's Clementine!," and he pretends like he forgot, and then calls her "Amelia Bedelia" again. He calls Rachel "Half Pint" like Laura from Little House.

Oh! Rachel is going to have a baby boy, but not till like Easter time. She says if it's OK with Mom, then maybe Clementine can come over and help her sometimes. How awesome would that be? She's gonna beg and whine until Mom says it's OK.

These people are a lot of fun, but Clementine really can't figure a lot of it out.

How come Aunt Kate stopped seeing Jimmy? Is it cause he has a new girlfriend? This afternoon he stopped playing with Clem in the pool 'cause his girlfriend called and he talked to her on the phone for a long time. Like a really really looooooong time. Grownups, even the really fun ones, can be kind of boring.

How come Mom extremely dislikes Uncle Jim? And how did she know him in the first place?

Can she come over here on Christmas Day? Mom says no. How come? Cause I said so. But she can come again after Christmas if she wants.

Uncle Jim and Aunt Juliet have lived here for thirteen years, so how come Clementine just met them three days ago?

Uncle Jim and Anson grilled hamburgers. Anson's Rachel's husband. He got here later than everyone else 'cause he is like on the news or something and had to work. When he first got here, Rachel ran up to him and put her hands on his face. He picked her up and swung her around, and they kissed really big (Clementine hopes Mom is wrong and some people get to stay together forever like in the fairy tales.)

Since they ate hamburgers, Mom says she has to wait thirty minutes before she goes in the pool again. She's waiting.

"Pssst. Clem!" It's Jimmy, and he's waving her over to the other side of the pool. She ducks down with him behind a pool chair. Jimmy says, "Can my mom see us?" Clem shakes her head. "Can your mom see us?"

Clem peeks up over the chair. Mom's sitting on a chair near the shallow end. She's talking to Rachel. Clementine ducks back down behind the chair, and says, "No," to Jimmy.

"Here then," he says, handing over a big chocolate chip cookie. Clem already had one for dessert.

She says, "I already had dessert. Mom only lets me have desserts once."

Jimmy says, "Mine too. That's why we're hiding."

"OK," she giggles.

They eat their cookies for a little bit. Anson walks by and pretends not to see them. Clementine doesn't think he'll tell on them. She's almost finished with her cookie.

"Jimmy?" she asks.

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot."

"Are you . . ." she stops. What if he says yes? Or what if he thinks she's a stupid little girl for asking such a dumb question? Oh well. "Are you my dad?" she asks. Of everything, that kind of makes a little bit of sense.

"No, Clementine. No, I'm not your dad."

"OK," she says. She is pretty good about telling when grownups are lying, and he's definitely not lying. She admits, "It was a dumb question. My dad died in a plane crash." Except lots of people once thought Aunt Kate died in the same plane crash, and Clementine saw her just yesterday.

"Nah, it wasn't a dumb question. You know, I bet if he was here now, he'd be really proud of you. Especially what you told me about your reading group."

Clementine got moved to the highest reading group right before they went on Christmas vacation.

Jimmy says, "You know, you could tell my dad about that. I bet he'd be proud, too."

"You think?"

"Absolutely."

Clementine looks over to where Uncle Jim is closing up the grill, stacking plates and grill tongs and stuff.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Jimmy says.

"Sure."

"If you help him clean up, I bet he'll give you even more dessert. And you don't even have to really help. Just hang out with him."

"I'll give it a try," Clementine says.

She trots over to Uncle Jim. He says, "Why it's . . . Amelia. . . wait, no, hold on, don't tell me . . . Got it! Ramona Quimby! How you doin', Ramona?"

She knows he remembers her name. He's just teasing. "How do you know about Ramona?" He's an old man. Why does an old man know about Ramona?

"Used to read 'em to Rachel when she was about your age."

That sounds fun. Mom reads to her a lot, but a lot of nights she's too tired from work and everything.

Uncle Jim says, "I bet I got some of 'em up in the attic still. Maybe if you start comin' around more, I could read 'em to you, too. I mean, uh, if you want."

She nods eagerly. Sorta 'cause she would like to read with him, but mainly because she'd like to get more dessert. She'll say what she needs to to get Uncle Jim to give her more dessert. "Yeah, that would be really cool," she says.

Uncle Jim smiles real big. He has those things in the side of his face like Jimmy does when he smiles.

"You wanna cookie, Clementine?" he asks her. She thinks it may be the first time he called her by her real name.