Reflections Chapter 17- Broken Hearted Part 2, a castle fanfic

A/N: Thanks for your reviews!

Chapter 17- What Becomes of the Broken Hearted Part 2

Jim entered the diner, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the dimmer light before scanning the room for Johanna. His gaze landed on her as she sat near the window and his heart broke for her as he looked at her in her somber black dress, a black headband keeping her hair pushed back from her face and a silver cross around her neck. She was forlorn as expected, and she seemed a million miles away. He sighed; the loss of her grandfather was bad enough, and now her father had decided to heap more hurt upon her.

"Jo," he said softly as he approached her. His voice pulled her from her thoughts and she looked up at him with red rimmed eyes and offered him a wobbly smile.

"Thanks for coming," Johanna said quietly.

He slid into the booth and dropped an arm around her. "I'll always come for you."

She leaned into his side; resting her head against his shoulder for a moment. "Isn't it amazing how you feel like you couldn't possibly feel any worse and then someone or something comes along and says 'oh yes you can' and then proves it to you."

"What happened with your father, Johanna?"

She was quiet for a long minute and then exhaled a shuddering breath. "Not here," she whispered.

Jim nodded as he gave her shoulder a squeeze. "Let's go."

"Jim," she said as she took his hand and slid out of the booth.

"What?"

"Can we go to your place? I don't want to be near my phone for awhile."

"Of course, sweetheart," he replied; wrapping his arm around her as they walked through the diner. "You can stay as long as you want."

Once they were back at his apartment, she took the headband from her hair and discarded her shoes as she settled in. She accepted the glass of scotch he handed her and she sipped at it as she told him what happened; breaking down completely when she ended her tale. Jim didn't know what to say in response; although anger burned in his veins as he pulled her into his arms and allowed her to cry as he ran his fingers through her hair.

How could a man be so cruel...especially to his own daughter? Didn't Frank McKenzie realize what a wonderful, amazing being she was? Didn't he see the beauty in her? Did the man even have a heart at all? If he had been standing before him, he would've smashed his fist into his face until he did realize what exactly he had.

"Was I wrong?" Johanna asked tearfully.

"About what?"

"Was I wrong to play along when my grandfather kept insisting I was Sarah? It wasn't my idea; I just went along with it because the doctor said it was better that way. I didn't mean to cause trouble...I just wanted Grandpa to be comfortable."

He pressed a kiss against her hair. "No; you weren't wrong, Jo. If thinking that you were Sarah gave him peace, then it was the right thing to do."

"I didn't mean to hurt anybody. It wasn't like it was all that easy for me either. It's hard to pretend to be someone that you never knew and that no one wants to talk about."

"Why is she such a secret?" Jim asked.

She shrugged. "I don't know. My father always made it clear that the topic of Sarah McKenzie was off limits. My grandfather didn't speak of her much either; nor do my father's siblings. All of this commotion from Dad about her...it kind of makes me feel like I lost two grandparents instead of one. I never felt her loss before...but I feel it now."

"What do you mean?"

"It's just that I've been thinking about her and wondering what kind of person she was, what did she look like, what kind of things did she like? What kind of grandmother would she have been? Would we have been close? Would my father be a different person if he hadn't lost her at that young age? I just feel like I missed out on something…I missed out on having this person in my life and probably of having her love and it's odd to think about that and realize that you've lost more than you thought. The one person who could've told me the most about her is gone now; although I doubt that he would've told me anything if he was still here and in good health. All I know about her is her name…that her hair was the same color as mine and that she liked to dance and apparently was fond of mockingbirds. There's just this pull there, you know? I don't know if it comes from having to answer to her name…or if she's there somewhere in the background, trying to get my attention, because sometimes it feels like there's someone there, someone around me that I can't see but that I can feel…as crazy as that probably sounds."

"I wouldn't say it's crazy," he replied. "My grandmother says that sometimes, that she feels my grandfather's presence with her; that sometimes she smells his cologne in the house or feels like someone's hand has brushed against her back. Even my mother and my aunts have said things like that. It's nothing I've experienced myself but I don't think it's crazy…too many people talk about feeling things like that for it to be crazy."

She gave him a small smile. "Thanks for not calling in a psychiatrist in that case; I'm not ready to be carted off to the funny farm yet."

He chuckled lightly. "Don't worry, sweetheart; I'm not going to let that happen."

Johanna was quiet for awhile as she stared down into her glass and after giving her time to break the silence, Jim finally did it himself.

"What are you thinking about, Jo?" he asked quietly.

Her red rimmed eyes met his and she made an attempt to smile. "Nothing good," she admitted. "I was just thinking about this one time my Dad blew up at me for daring to bring up his mother after I had been told not to…as a matter of fact; my grandfather went off about it too."

"What happened?"

"I was in the seventh grade; and I had this assignment to make a family tree," Johanna replied as the memory swept across her mind once again.

Johanna walked towards the door of her father's home office with trepidation; the large sheet of paper containing the image of a family tree that her teacher had given out, in her hand. She didn't want to go in there; she hated having to ask him to help her with her homework. For what seemed like the millionth time that afternoon, she wished that her mother hadn't gone to Connecticut with her grandmother to see her great aunt who was sick. She wished that her mother could've just given her the details of her father's family over the phone like she had for her side. Johanna took a breath and poked her head around the open door.

"Dad?"

"What," he replied gruffly; not bothering to look up from his work.

"I need your help."

"With what?"

"With my family tree," she answered. "I need to know your mother's name and her birthday and…"

He tensed; the last thing he wanted to do was discuss his mother and her family…he didn't want to discuss any of his family, especially with her. "Johanna, I don't have time to help you," he said sharply.

"But, Dad; I have to turn it in tomorrow. I only have Mom's side filled in; I need yours and Mom said you'd help me with it."

Frank glanced at her. "Well your mother lied. I have more important things to do than help you with a stupid assignment. I don't send you to school to make a list of your relatives. I send you to get an education. This is the stupidest assignment I ever heard of."

"I still have to do it."

"Walk down the street and ask your grandfather to help you then."

She shifted on her feet; her teeth sinking into her bottom lip. She loved her grandfather…but she didn't think he loved her all that much; or at least it seemed that way sometimes. Sometimes he seemed to like her and other times he didn't and she wasn't keen about knocking on his door and taking the chance that it might be one of those days where he didn't like her.

"Can't you just tell me? It won't take long, I promise. It's okay if you don't know all of your mom's family; but my teacher wants us to try to have all of our grandparents listed and our great grandparents if we can. I know Grandpa's name, but I don't know my grandmother's. Can't you just tell me about her?"

"No!" he yelled. "I told you I don't have time; and I told you before not to mention her to me. She's dead and that's all you need to know. Now if you want someone to help you with that damn thing, go ask your grandfather or turn it in the way it is now!"

She was quiet for a moment; knowing she was going to have to go and dreading it. "Can I take Colleen with me?"

"No; your sister is doing her homework. You don't need someone to hold your hand while you walk down the street. Now go; you're bothering me."

It seemed like she was always bothering him somehow, Johanna thought as she turned away. She made the trek to the living room and shoved her feet into her shoes and then left the house. Her grandfather lived at the very end of the street in a white house with faded black trim. She hesitated as she stood on the sidewalk and then she made her feet carry her up the steps and to the door. Her knock was answered by his housekeeper, Alma; who always greeted her with a warm smile.

"Miss Johanna," Alma said fondly. "What brings you by today? Do you need a cookie?"

"No," she said with a shake of her head and a smile. "I need to talk to Grandpa; is he home?"

Alma nodded. "He is; come with me."

The housekeeper led her to the study and rapped lightly on the open door. "Look what I found on the porch," she announced.

Patrick didn't bother to look up from his papers. "If it's a cat, give it some milk and then send it on its way."

"It's your granddaughter," she stated.

Patrick's head turned towards the door and caught sight of his guest. "Josie, what do you want?"

"Go on in," Alma said; giving her nudge. "He's just being himself today."

Johanna walked into the room as Alma retreated back to the kitchen. "I need help with an assignment and Dad told me to come ask you," she told him as she stood before his desk.

"Why didn't he help you?"

"He said he was too busy."

"And he thinks I'm not?"

She shrugged; biting into her lip once again. "It won't take long. I promise."

"What is it, Johanna?" he said with mild exasperation.

"My teacher wants us to make a family tree. I need to know your parents names and I need to know my grandmother's name and her birthday and when she…"

"I'm not going to do your homework for you!" Patrick bellowed; his heart twisting at the thought of discussing Sarah. It was bad enough that the girl looking back at him looked more like the woman with each passing year.

His granddaughter looked at him oddly. "You're not doing it for me. I just need you to answer a few questions…how else am I supposed to know?"

"You're not," he replied sharply. "It's nonsense."

"But, Grandpa; if I don't finish it, I'll get a bad grade."

"That's not my problem."

"What will I tell my teacher when she asks me why I didn't finish it?"

"Tell her your family is none of her damn business!" Patrick retorted; "And it's none of yours either."

"What's the big deal?" Johanna asked. "I just need to know about my grandmother. Why can't you tell me that?"

"I just told you why! She's none of your business and don't you ask again. I'm not doing your damn homework. Finish it as best you can and accept the grade you receive. When I went to school, they taught you things you needed to know; like arithmetic, and spelling; not this kind of nonsense!"

"Fine!" his granddaughter yelled back. "If you won't tell me about her; can't you at least tell me about your family?"

"Do you not listen?" Patrick yelled. "I'm not telling you anything!"

Tears filled her green eyes; Sarah's eyes, his traitorous mind thought and it filled him with anger. "Don't start your bawling," he demanded. "Get out of here and go home where you belong."

Her chin quivered as she swallowed hard and then she turned and ran from the room; the slam of his front door sounding moments later. Alma reappeared; looking at him reproachfully from the doorway. "What did you do to that child?"

"I told her to mind her own business," he replied. "And the same goes for you."

Alma gave him a disapproving look and then left him alone. He sighed; a twinge of regret filling him as he pulled open the desk drawer and looked at the photograph of Sarah that laid inside. He swore he could hear her whispering, "How could you, Patrick?"

"Where's the girl?" Patrick asked two hours later as Frank allowed him into the house.

"Which one?"

"Josie."

"She's upstairs in her room; why? What did she do?"

"Nothing," Patrick answered as he headed for the stairs.

He climbed the stairs and walked down the small hallway; glimpsing his granddaughter through the open door of the room on the right. He studied her for a moment as she laid on her bed on her stomach; her legs swinging back and forth lazily as she concentrated on the book in front of her, a tablet next to it and a pen in her hand.

"Josie," he said as he stepped inside.

She glanced up at him for a moment and then returned her gaze to her book without saying a word. He moved a tote bag from the small wooden chair near the door and perched on the edge of it.

"Do you still need help with your family tree?" he asked.

"No," she answered. "I'm turning it in the way it is."

"What are you going to tell your teacher?"

"That it's none of her damn business."

"Hey, watch your mouth, young lady."

Johanna's gaze shot toward him; sparkling with hurt and anger. "Well that's what you told me to tell her."

"You can't tell your teacher that," Patrick replied. "You'll get in trouble and when your mother finds out that I told you to say it, she'll be all over me like a fly on horse…well never mind. I don't need that kind of trouble and neither do you."

She shrugged. "Then I'll just tell her my Dad was out of town and couldn't help me."

"So now you're going to be a liar?"

"Fine, I'll tell her the truth. I tried to get the information but everyone acted like I killed someone and wouldn't help me so I didn't finish it. How's that?"

He bit back a smile; she was a fiery one when she got her Irish up. "I think we better just finish it, Josie. Get your paper; I'll tell you what you need to know."

"Forget it," she retorted. "I'd rather fail."

This time a smirk curved his lips. "You're a stubborn lass."

"I have to do my book report," Johanna grumbled. "I can do that all by myself."

"You can do it later," he told her as he rose from the chair and walked towards her bed; running his large hand over her dark hair. "Come on, Josie; please."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want you to get a bad grade. I'm sorry I was short with you earlier. I…I just don't like to talk about your grandmother."

"I didn't know," Johanna replied. "I wouldn't have asked if Dad didn't tell me to."

"I know," he answered. "Let's just forget about earlier and get it done."

She reluctantly rolled off her bed and moved to the desk, where she unrolled the sheet of paper containing her family tree. Patrick stood behind her and looked down at the page; studying the blank boxes.

"Let's start with me and my parents," he told her; pointing to the boxes. "My full name is Patrick Colin McKenzie; my birth date is September 16, 1891. My father was Michael Patrick McKenzie; he was born November 5, 1862 and he passed away in December of 1935; my mother was Amelia Lorena Pryor; she was born June 24, 1865, and she passed away in May of 1952."

Johanna dutifully filled in the boxes; daring not to ask more. He volunteered the name of his mother's parents; and the name of his father's mother. Patrick then hesitated as he glanced to the blank box next to his name.

"You don't have to tell me," Johanna said softly. "I'll be able to get by with this much."

"No; it's alright," he replied; laying a hand against her shoulder. "Her name was Sarah Riley; she was born January 12, 1895…and she died April 16, 1928."

After she had written in the information; he kissed to top of her head and walked away without another word.

Jim didn't know quite what to say after she finished telling him about the memory but he felt the need to comment anyway. "I guess out of the two of them, your grandfather was the better person in that case…at least he came and helped you after all."

She nodded. "Yeah…Grandpa could be very stern and gruff…but there were moments when he had a softer side, or even remorse in some small way that he wasn't afraid to show…but my father…well that's another story entirely," she said softly; her voice cracking once again. "I don't think he's ever been sorry; unless you count being sorry that they had me."

"Don't say that."

"Why not? It's the truth. I've always known that while there may be times when he tolerates me well enough, that he never wanted me and that he doesn't love me…today just confirmed it…and now I can stop hoping for that miracle that will make everything all better between us, because that's never going to happen. The sooner I accept that and get over it, the better off I'll be. I'm sure I'm not the only person in the world who isn't wanted by their parent. I don't need him…I don't need him at all," she said as a cry escaped her; the tears coming in a torrent again as she downed the rest of the scotch in her glass.

She might not need Frank McKenzie, Jim thought to himself as he took the glass from her hand and pulled her into his arms, but she wanted him. Somewhere inside she was still a little girl who wanted her daddy to love her the way other little girls daddies loved them and that man kept denying her that despite waving it in front of her once in awhile, making her hope that maybe the moment was coming. Whatever had been damaged inside of her in regard to her father was broken now and he wondered if it could ever be repaired. She cried for what seemed to be forever to Jim, his heart being ripped into shreds with each tear that seeped through his shirt. Finally her cries began to abate and she settled against him in the heavy state of exhaustion, her crying jag having released the tension from her body. He ran his hands over her back and her hair; pressing soft kisses against her head as he murmured soft words of comfort. When he knew she was asleep, he gently laid her down on the sofa, leaving her long enough to fetch a pillow to slip under her head and a blanket to cover her with. He had to do something for her…he had to find some way to make something in this mess better…but what?

Two hours later, a knock sounded at the door and Jim's gaze darted towards Johanna's sleeping form on the sofa to see if the noise had disturbed her. She didn't budge and he got up from the chair and went to the door, wondering if someone had managed to track her down at his apartment. If they had, they had done it for nothing, he thought to himself. His home was a safe haven for her and no one would get to her there unless there was an emergency somewhere that demanded her attention. His stance eased as he cracked the door open and found his father on the other side and he hurriedly put his finger to his lips in gesture for him to be quiet as he let him in.

Robert's gaze landed on Johanna as he stepped into the living room and he turned his questioning gaze to his son. "What's going on with her today?" he whispered.

"A lot of things," Jim answered. "Let's go into the kitchen."

Once they were seated at the table, Jim explained the situation with Patrick McKenzie and his passing, and then, although he hadn't meant to, his anger led him to reveal the things that Frank had said to Johanna that day.

Robert smacked a palm against the table when he had finished, a flash of anger flickering in his usually jovial blue gaze. "How could a man treat his child like that?" he asked angrily; although he kept his tone low to keep from disturbing the woman in the next room. "What's wrong with him?"

"I don't know," Jim replied; his own hand clenched into a fist as he thought about it. "She doesn't deserve that, no matter what his reasons are."

"No she doesn't, she's a sweet girl; any man in his right mind would be proud to claim her as his daughter."

"Apparently Frank McKenzie has a problem with his mind; a major one."

"That's sad," Robert stated; "Very sad that a man can act like that. I could never say something like that to any of my children, no matter what they might've done that made me angry for one reason or another."

Jim was quiet for a few moments and then glanced to his father. "Does Grandma still do that family history research?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Maybe she can help me find out something about Sarah McKenzie."

"Jimmy, that might not be an easy undertaking," his father stated; a knowing look in his eye as he studied his son.

"I have to do something," Jim answered. "I can't give her back her grandfather and no matter how much I'd like to, I can't go beat the hell out of her father…so researching the grandmother is all I have left."

"You could just be here for her; I'm sure that's all she wants…I don't think she expects more from you."

"Well maybe being here isn't enough for me. I have to try. I have to try to make something better out of this mess."

Robert gave a slight nod. "I understand your desire to do that, I'm just saying it might not be easy. Don't get her hopes up about uncovering this woman's history."

Jim looked at him. "Did I say I was going to tell her about it?"

"Well no, but…"

"I wouldn't tell her that I had done it unless I found something to give her, Dad. I know what I'm doing."

Robert chuckled quietly. "Alright, Jimmy; I won't say anything else about it. Do what you need to do."

"I intended to," he replied as he glanced at his watch. "I take it that you're hiding from Mom again, are you staying for dinner?"

"I had intended to but I didn't know you had company so maybe I better go."

"No," Jim said with a shake of his head; "Stick around, maybe you can help cheer her up a little when she wakes up. I'm going to run out and get us something to eat. You stay with her."

Robert smiled; he hadn't missed the protective note in his son's voice. "I'll look after your girl, Jimmy. Don't you worry." He also didn't miss the fact that his son didn't issue any denials about the woman in question being his girl as he got up from the table.

Johanna stirred, her heavy eyelids flicking open briefly and then sliding back shut for a moment before she forced them to open once more. She was disoriented for a second until she remembered that she was at Jim's. The television was playing softly in the background but he was no longer on the sofa with her. "Jim," she called out sleepily as she pushed herself up into a seated position.

"He'll be back," Robert stated; his voice startling her and causing her head to snap towards him as he sat in the chair. He smiled warmly. "I'm sorry, honey; I didn't mean to scare you."

She smiled slightly as she scrubbed a hand over her face. "It's okay. Where did he go?"

"He went to get us some dinner. He's probably on his way back now. How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," Johanna replied as she folded up the blanket that had been covering her. "How are you doing?"

"Oh I'm staying out of trouble for the most part," he told her. "Although I'm sure my wife would disagree."

A more genuine smile graced her lips. "Is that why you're here? You're hiding from your wife again?"

Robert chuckled. "You already know me so well, Johanna. Surely that has to be a sign of fate."

"Or maybe I'm just a fast learner."

"Or it could be both," he remarked. "I guess we'll just have to wait and see."

She gave a soft, short laugh. "You don't give up easily, do you?"

"No, I suppose I don't; but I guess that's a good thing or I would've been in a lot of trouble a few months ago."

"Seems to me that you were in a lot of trouble."

Jim's father nodded. "Okay, I'll give you that one."

"I thought you might," she replied and then she eyed him, remembering the secret he had entrusted in her. "Are you sleeping okay?"

Robert smiled; fondness for her shining in his eyes. "Yes, I've been sleeping just fine. Once in awhile I have a little irrational fear but when that happens, I resort to a little trick that a special friend taught me. I just turn on the TV."

Johanna smiled. "I'm glad it helps."

"I hear you and Jimmy did a little babysitting together," the older man commented; a gleam in his eye.

She laughed. "Yes, we did. He was in desperate need of assistance."

"I hear you did quite well; of course that doesn't surprise me at all. You seem like the motherly type."

"What are you getting at?" she asked; a knowing look in her eye and a smile she couldn't suppress.

Robert shrugged. "Nothing...just that I wouldn't mind having a few more grandchildren."

"What's that have to do with me?"

"I like my grandchildren to have the best mother possible...I think you're a good candidate; and you're pretty too, so the kids will be beautiful."

She blushed as she laughed. "Well I thank you for the compliment. While we were babysitting, Jim seemed to be under the impression that you had more than enough grandchildren."

"He was wrong," Robert replied. "He'll come around to our way of thinking eventually."

"Our way?" she questioned.

His eyes shone with merriment. "Come now, you know you want him to ask you out on a proper date."

"I refuse to answer that."

"Which says it all," he chuckled; "But don't worry, I won't tell."

Johanna shook her head at him, but an amused smile clung to her lips, letting him know that he hadn't teased her too much. Silence fell for a moment as she picked a piece of lint off of her black dress.

"I'm sorry about your grandfather, Johanna," he said sincerely.

She nodded; tears stinging her eyes for a moment before she blinked them back. "It came about kind of suddenly."

"Well he's at peace now; although I know that thought never brings much comfort when you've lost someone you love."

"It's kind of a double edged sword; you don't want them to suffer and you don't want them to go either," she responded.

"I know."

"I just hope he's with his Sarah now, and that he's happy again."

"I'm sure he is," Robert assured.

Johanna glanced at Robert and she saw something in his gaze besides sympathy and she had a feeling she knew what it was. "Jim told you, didn't he?"

"Told me what?"

"About my father...and what he said to me today."

Robert released a weighted breath; knowing it would be fruitless to lie to her. "Don't be angry with him; normally Jimmy wouldn't have said so much. He's always careful to respect someone's privacy...but he was so angry and bothered by what your father said that it just came tumbling out when I asked what was going on with you today. I don't want you to think that he makes a habit of sharing your private conversations, because he doesn't."

"I know," she replied; because deep down she had no doubt that Jim kept her secrets.

"You're very special to him, Johanna; when someone hurts you, he takes that personally."

"I've noticed," she said softly.

"I'm sure your father didn't mean the things he said," Robert stated; or at least he hoped that Frank McKenzie hadn't meant those words.

"I'm sure he did," Johanna replied; trying to smile as if it was no longer of any consequence but she failed, emotion surging forward and causing her chin to tremble as her eyes filled once more.

"Then he's a fool," Robert stated. "You're a good woman, kind, compassionate, intelligent and loving. Any man in his right mind would be proud to call you his daughter."

"It's nice to know that someone thinks so," she murmured as she stood, intending to go to the kitchen and get a drink, but Robert rose as well, gently capturing her wrist as she went to move by him and pulled her into a hug.

"One day he'll wake up and realize what he's done," he told her.

"I doubt that."

"Well even if he doesn't, it'll be okay. He doesn't define you, Johanna. His words and actions hurt, I don't doubt that for a moment, but don't you ever let them break you. Whatever his problem is, it's with himself; you're just the one he chooses to blame and take it out on...but don't you give him the satisfaction of tearing you apart."

"It's easier said than done," she replied as a sob broke free.

"I know, but you're strong. I'd tell you that you don't need him but I know you always need your father in one way or another…but if you ever need him and he's not there for you, then you call me. I have plenty of experience at being a father; adding one more to my brood won't bother me a bit."

"I appreciate that," she said; smiling through her tears as she pulled back from him.

Robert kissed her forehead and then patted her cheek. "You go wash your face now; if Jimmy comes in here and sees that I made you cry, he'll have my head on a platter and I could've just as easily accepted that fate at home today."

Johanna gave a short laugh as she swiped at her cheeks. "Thank you."

"Any time," he told her as she turned and walked off towards the bathroom to wash her face before Jim got home.

Naomi was quiet as she stepped inside the garage early that evening; taking a moment to study her husband as he sanded the cabinet door that he was crafting. He always had to work with his hands when he was upset, she thought to herself. He wouldn't cry for his father...at least not in front of anyone; not even in front of her. He would take his grief out on that piece of wood, on his employees...on his daughter.

"Frank," she said softly as she moved closer to his work bench.

"What?" he asked gruffly, not even bothering to take his eyes from his project.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

Naomi stepped to the side so that she could see his face. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"About what?"

"Your father?"

"There's nothing to talk about. He's gone...it's done."

She gave a nod. "Then how about we talk about Johanna and why you blew up at her the way you did."

"She deserved it," Frank remarked. "She had no right to masquerade as a dead woman and even less of a right to lie to a dying man."

"She wasn't trying to hurt anyone. It wasn't her idea to play along with Patrick; she was just doing what she was told to do. It wasn't such a terrible thing...and your father wasn't hurt by it. It made it easier for him. I know you're hurting, Frank; but that doesn't give you the right to hurt your daughter."

"It's funny how you don't seem to care when she hurts me."

"When has she had the chance to hurt you? It seems to me that you've been doing all the hurting. She tries so hard, Frank; and every time she gets her foot in the door, you slam it shut on her."

"Get it through your head, Naomi; I will never be close to her, nor do I want to be. I can't stand her."

"Seems like you were standing her pretty well for the last several months. You even went and spent a day with her...and you seemed to enjoy it. I was starting to think that maybe things were changing."

"Well you were wrong."

Naomi sighed. "Why don't you just tell her."

"Tell her what?"

"About your mother. Tell her that she looks like her grandmother and that she was named for her. Tell her that sometimes she just reminds you of your mother and that it's painful for you."

"Her name was your nonsense, not mine. I told you I didn't want her named for my mother."

"Talk to her, Frank. Tell her why it's so hard for you to get along with her. She'll listen. She'll understand...and if you tell her that you're sorry, Johanna will forgive you."

"I'm not sorry!" he bellowed; "And I'm not talking to her about anything. It's none of her damn business. I don't even want anything to do with her."

Naomi looked at him sadly. "She loves you so much, Frank."

Frank laughed. "Oh come on, Naomi! That girl doesn't love me and I don't love her."

Naomi's hand smacked against his cheek with a firm crack. "Don't you ever say that again!" she exclaimed; her tone furious. "It's a lie and you know it."

"You think so?" he asked angrily. "What makes you so sure?"

"I know because I remember how happy you were when I told you I was pregnant. I remember how you prayed with me for a little girl...I remember how you would lay your hand on my stomach at night and say 'this one is our little princess, Naomi'; and she'd kick against your hand. Do you remember feeling her kick, Frank? Remember how you'd laugh and say she was going to be a fiery one...and you were right. Your little girl has enough fire in her to blaze for days on end. Do you remember when I called to tell you that she had been born?"

His features were hard but he was listening and so she continued on. "You were so happy when I told you she was here...you couldn't wait for the snow to be cleared away enough for you to get to us. I can still see that smile that was on your face when my mother laid Johanna in your arms. I still remember you telling Frankie that he had the prettiest little sister there ever was. Do you remember how you brushed your finger against her cheek, and kissed her little head; which looked so small in the palm of your hand? There was love written all over your face. Do you remember?"

"I remember when she opened her eyes," he spat.

"It's not her fault that she was born with green eyes."

"It's not just that they're green; it's everything about them, the shape, the length and color of her lashes...they're my mother's eyes. She's always looking back at me through Johanna's eyes and I hate it. The older she gets, the more I see Sarah McKenzie in her face. Don't you see it, Naomi?"

She nodded. "Yes, based on the few photos I've seen of Sarah, I do see a resemblance between her and Johanna...but I also see me in our daughter's face. I see you in her too, Frank...she has your hair color and…"

"She has my mother's hair color!"

"It's also yours," Naomi retorted. "She also has your chin; and I hate to tell you this, Frank; but that's a feature you inherited from your mother. Your appearance isn't void of Sarah's influence."

"It's different," he replied. "I don't act like my mother...but Johanna does. She's just like her!"

"Is that so bad? Was your mother really so terrible?"

"She was weak; I don't want my daughter to carry that weakness."

"Johanna isn't weak, and let's not forget that your blood isn't the only blood that runs through her veins. She also carries traits of my family."

"You don't understand!" he yelled. "Johanna was sitting in that chair, answering to the name of Sarah, and she was saying and doing things that my mother said and did. It's like my mother's ghost lives inside of her and I can't stand it."

"Is this because of what she said about mockingbirds?" his wife asked; "Because we've already been over that."

"It's more than that! When she says certain things, she sounds like her. She kissed his hand; my mother always had a habit of kissing our hands..."

"Frank," Naomi interrupted; "Johanna very well could've learned that from me. I always kissed her hands when she was a baby and even when she was a little girl. It's just something she learned to do. When Colleen was a baby, Johanna would kiss her hand. I've seen her kiss Greg's hands. She does it because it was done to her; not because your mother has possessed her."

"You don't understand; you didn't know my mother."

Naomi released a heavy breath. "I'm not saying that Johanna hasn't inherited personality traits from Sarah McKenzie; but she has the traits of other people as well...she has some of mine, she has some of yours...which is why the two of you clash so much. You're too much alike in some respects; and in others, you lash out at her for reminding you of something you want to forget; and she lashes back because she feels like you don't love her...and God help you if say you don't again."

"I can't help how I feel."

"And she can't help what genes got passed on to her, so you need to stop punishing her for something that's out of her control. You had no right to treat her the way you did today, and you know it. You ought to be ashamed."

Frank ignored her and returned to sanding the cabinet door. "Who are you really mad at, Frank?"

"Johanna," he answered. "I don't care what you say, she was wrong."

His wife shook her head. "Are you really mad at Johanna; or are you mad at Sarah? I think it's Sarah. Somewhere inside you're still that hurt, angry little boy who didn't understand why his mother was gone. No one helped you with your grief and you've carried it around with you since you were eight years old...and you take it out on your daughter because she had the misfortune to be born with some of her grandmother's features. Now Patrick is gone and all that hurt is there again, not just for him, but for your mother too. They're both gone now, and you're angry...you wanted someone to hurt like you do, so you said those hateful things to our child, because you knew you could hurt her...you could look into her green eyes and hurt her and feel like you were hurting your mother for leaving you. Isn't that what it was, Frank?"

His hand clenched and his jaw so tight she feared it might snap. "Go back in house where you belong, Naomi."

She didn't flinch at his rigid tone, nor did she move to leave. "You know, for the last several months, I pushed Johanna far too much. I don't know why I took it into my head that I could bend her to my will...she's far too stubborn for that. She knows her own mind and what she wants, and I had no right to try to force my beliefs for her life on her. I pushed too much and she pulled away; I spent over a month without seeing her or talking to her, because that's how she chose to punish me and I deserved that. I was hoping that she'd come back now...but I think you ran her off, Frank."

"Good," he muttered.

"No, it's not good. She may be a grown woman but we're still her parents. She still needs us and we need her. I don't want to lose her but between the two of us, I think we've done a lot of harm to her...and I don't think she's going to come back, Frank."

He shrugged. "Then cut the apron strings and let her go."

"I'll give her time and space, but I'll never let her go; and eventually, you're going to have to go talk to her and let her know that this is still home and that she's still welcome here."

"I just bet I will," he scoffed.

Naomi regarded him with a raised brow. "Oh you will, Frank; or you will be very sorry. You just mark my words; you'll be sorrier than you ever have been," she stated before turning on her heel and walking away.

Frank smirked at her retreating back; he didn't doubt for one minute that she'd make him miserable until her princess came walking back through the door. He could deal with it though; because there was no way he was seeking out his daughter any time soon…just like she'd never get that box of his mother's belongings that was stashed in that old metal cupboard that rested against the back wall of the garage.

Robert had left after eating dinner and Johanna was largely silent as the evening wore on. Jim didn't prod her too much; figuring that she didn't need that and he didn't want to step on her toes when she was feeling sensitive. He settled for just allowing her to curl up against his side as they watched TV and the small talk that occasionally came up between them.

Her eyes were growing tired once again, but she didn't want to go home. She wanted to stay there and hide away with him for as long as she could…or at least until tomorrow. She hesitated for a moment as the words formed on her tongue but then she told herself that he probably wouldn't mind if she asked…he never seemed to mind when she needed something.

"Do you mind if I stay here tonight?" she asked quietly; glancing up at him to gauge his reaction to her question. He didn't look surprised or put out by the question and she relaxed as she saw that he wasn't bothered by it.

"Of course not, sweetheart. You know you can stay here any time you want. Go on in and get in bed if you're sleepy."

"I'll be fine on the couch," Johanna replied.

He expelled a breath as he angled his head to look at her; ever since she had made that drunken marriage proposal it felt like she had pulled back from him in some small respect and it bothered him a little. "Jo, what's with all of this business of sleeping on the couch? We've slept in the same bed before; recently as a matter of fact."

That was true; he had slept in her bed with her the night her grandfather had died, but she didn't want him to think that she wanted something from him that he didn't want to give. She still felt foolish for that night after her sister's wedding and she didn't care that her mind had been saturated with tequila…it had been embarrassing. She still wondered if he didn't look at her at times and wonder if she was trying to trap him into a relationship that stretched beyond the bounds of friendship. She wasn't that kind of person, and she didn't want him to think that she was. She'd love nothing more than to sleep beside him, to have his comfort all night long, but she couldn't get past that mistake she had made.

"Jo, what is it?" Jim asked once again.

"It's just what's right," she answered.

"Why is it right sometimes but not others?"

"I don't know…it just is."

"Are you worried about something?"

"Like what?"

"You tell me," he replied. "I should hope that you know that you can trust me…"

"Of course I know I can trust you, good God, I know you wouldn't do anything to me," she exclaimed.

"Well then what's the problem?"

"I don't know," she lied.

"It's because of that night you got drunk, isn't it?"

She sighed; didn't she have enough problems?

"Johanna; I thought we agreed that it wasn't a big deal."

"You said it wasn't a big deal…I just nodded like I believed that because my head hurt and I didn't want to talk about it any more."

He laughed. "Well at least your honest; but listen to me, it really isn't the big deal you've made it into, okay? Just forget about it and go to bed, nothing's changed. I don't think any differently of you if that's what you're so afraid of."

"I'm trying to get over it," Johanna assured. "It's on my to do list."

"Try hard," Jim stated.

She smiled up at him. "I'll try hard…but I'm still sleeping on the couch tonight."

He shook his head but a smile clung to his lips. "Fine, but if you change your mind during the night, the door will be open and you're free to come in and get in bed."

"Okay, I'll keep that in mind."

When he finally left her alone at midnight, she had to suppress the urge to follow him…and the feeling that she had been foolish about hanging on to those feelings that kept her from following him, nagged at her. No matter which way she turned, she ended up being a fool. She needed to get control of that problem.

The first thing Jim noticed the next morning when he woke was that there was a weight lying against his chest. He was puzzled but not entirely ready to open his eyes once he had taken stock of himself and realized that he felt fine which ruled out a health scare. His hand was resting against something and he moved his fingers against it. His brow furrowed, the material beneath his fingertips felt like satin. This bit of information opened his eyes and he looked down at himself, discovering that the weight against his chest was Johanna…and that she must've shed her black dress in favor of sleeping in her black satin slip. His mind was still tinged with sleep and he forced himself to concentrate; he didn't recall waking up anytime through the night and he wondered when she had slipped in next to him…and what had changed her mind after she had insisted that she was fine on the couch.

He softly rubbed his hand against her side; he didn't mind that she had changed her mind, he just worried that she had needed him but hadn't bothered to wake him. He laid there for several minutes, enjoying the feel of her next to him but then convinced himself to get up. Jim carefully shifted away from her, settling her onto his pillow and then sitting on the edge of the bed for a moment to see if the movement would cause her to stir. She seemed unbothered by it, her eyes remaining closed and her breathing even as she remained asleep. He moved about the room quietly, gathering up his clothes and retreating to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

When he had finished, Jim moved through his apartment, taking note that the blanket he had given Johanna was crumpled in the corner of the couch and that the television was off. His gaze also caught sight of her dress, neatly folded and lying over the back of the chair. He frowned as he thought about her having to get up and put that dress back on. If the idea was unappealing to him, than it had to be unappealing to her as well. Well there was only one thing to do about that, Jim thought to himself. He'd just have to go get her something else to wear. He found a scrap of paper and wrote her a quick note, telling her he had gone to run an errand and then he crept quietly to the bedroom and laid it on the nightstand in case she woke while he was gone. He then returned to the living room and took her purse from the closet and fished out her keys and shoved them into his pocket as he put her purse back. There was a momentary thought about whether it was right or not for him to go into her apartment without her but he brushed that thought aside and grabbed his own keys from the stand. He was just going in to grab her a pair of jeans and a shirt, not to poke through her underwear drawer. She had suffered enough the past several days, she didn't need to be clad in black again today.

Jim hesitated as he stood at the threshold of Johanna's bedroom; that thought that he might be invading her privacy creeping up on him again. It wasn't like he had never been in her bedroom before, he had, but with her permission and he hadn't gone through her belongings. Maybe it was wrong…but he felt like he was doing it for the right reasons and hopefully she'd see it that way too, he thought as he finally stepped into the room. He walked to the closet and opened the doors. He shook his head as he surveyed the contents; she probably couldn't get another piece of clothing in there if her life depended on it. Jim looked through the articles of clothing that were hanging inside, finding everything but what he was looking for. Where were her casual clothes?

His gaze fell upon the dresser and a sense of trepidation filled him. Six drawers…and one of them was definitely a drawer he shouldn't open…he just didn't know which one that was. Jim scrubbed a hand over his face; should he try his luck or just forget about it? He thought about it for a moment and then walked towards the unnerving piece of furniture. There was no point in being a coward; of course that didn't mean he couldn't ask God for the favor of directing his hand to the right drawer.

"Just do it," he said aloud as he reached out and pulled open a drawer. As he caught sight of the contents he gave a quiet laugh and looked upward, apparently God had a sense of humor, because this was the drawer he was hoping to avoid, he thought as he looked at the neat stacks of bras and panties that met his gaze; every color of the rainbow seemingly represented. He smirked, apparently Johanna was a woman fond of lace, he mused…and satin…nylon…cotton. Jim shook his head, he shouldn't be looking…he really shouldn't be; she'd kill him if she found out, and yet that didn't keep him from wondering about what she might look like in those red lacy garments that kept catching his eye. He hurriedly shut the drawer; he shouldn't be thinking those thoughts.

The next drawer revealed nightgowns and pajamas, and the third finally gave him what he was looking for. Jim looked through the pairs of jeans she had stowed in the drawer and found the pair she had been wearing the day after Colleen's wedding. From the next drawer he grabbed a soft white short sleeved shirt. He took a small red tote bag from the hook of her closet door and shoved the items into it and then hurried out of her room. He saw her sandals sitting by the door in the living room and he shoved them into the bag as well. He made sure he had her keys and then locked her apartment and headed back to his own.

Johanna was still asleep when he returned home and he decided to let her be, but as the hours passed and the clock hit noon, he went into the bedroom with the intent on waking her. He placed a hand on her hip and gave her a gentle shake. "Jo."

She moved to turn away from him but he kept her place and shook her again. "Johanna."

"What?" she mumbled sleepily as she snuggled into the pillow.

"You need to get up, sweetheart."

"Why?"

"Because you won't sleep tonight," he answered; giving her another gentle shake. "Come on now, get up."

Her eyes flicked open and she pushed her hair back from her face. "What time is it?"

"It's noon."

"Noon!" she exclaimed as she pushed herself upright. "Why did you let me sleep so late?"

"Because I figured you needed the rest."

She rubbed her hands over her face. "I probably haven't slept this late since I was a teenager."

Jim smiled. "Then you were overdue for it."

He hadn't asked why she was in his bed and she figured that since he wasn't asking for an explanation that she wouldn't trouble herself with giving one…which would keep her from admitting that she had climbed into his bed because she had gotten lonely in the middle of the night…and that she had for the most part, convinced herself to get over drunken mistake. She threw back the covers and then recalled that she was clad in her black slip. "Can you get my dress?" she asked.

"You don't need it."

Johanna's brow rose. "I don't?"

"No," he said with a shake of his head as he turned and grabbed her tote bag from the chair. "I went and got you a change of clothes."

As she looked inside the bag to see what he brought her, a thought came to mind that had to be voiced as she looked up at him. "How many drawers did you have to open before you found these clothes?"

He tried to play it cool and act naturally. "I picked the right drawer on the first try," he replied.

She eyed him; his gaze had slightly darted away from her as he made the statement. "Liar."

His eyes widened. "What?"

"You're lying," she replied with a short laugh.

"Okay, it was the second drawer."

Johanna studied him. "Did you open the top drawer?"

"No."

His gaze had shifted again; it was subtle in its nature, most people wouldn't have been able to detect it but she had picked up on it long ago. "Liar," she stated once again.

"How do you know?" he retorted.

"Because I know you and I know when you're lying."

"How?"

"I'm not going to tell you," she laughed. "Now you want to tell me the truth?"

"Alright, fine. I opened the top drawer but I didn't see anything."

"Then how did you know it was the wrong drawer?"

"Okay, it was a quick glance."

"Sure it was."

"You don't believe me?" he asked.

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"Because you're a man…and it's in your nature to look and probably drool over it."

"I did no such thing!"

"But you did look," she said; baiting him for the confession.

He shifted on his feet, his face warming at the thought that he had been caught.

"Jim Beckett, I don't believe I've ever seen you blush before," Johanna remarked in amusement as she watched him.

He sighed. "Alright, I looked but not for long, I swear."

"I'll buy that one."

"That's nice of you."

"Hey, I'm not the one poking through someone's underwear drawer."

"I didn't poke through your drawer," he proclaimed as he squirmed beneath her gaze. "I didn't touch anything."

She giggled; unable to resist the urge to tease him. "Did it make your day, Jim?"

"I had every intention of avoiding that drawer, Johanna. I even asked God to help me open the right one…but apparently God felt like being funny."

"Uh huh, you probably subconsciously wanted to find it."

"I did not; but I have to ask, did you have a dream that they were going to quit making underwear? Because you seem to have a lot."

"I don't have any more than any other woman."

"I don't know; it looked like a lingerie department in there."

"That's because you men think we're better off without any."

"That's not true at all," he grinned.

Johanna smirked at him. "It's different for women you know; we have to have underwear for every occasion."

"Every occasion?" he laughed.

"Yeah; you know, underwear for date nights, every day underwear, special occasion underwear, doctor's appointment underwear, underwear made for comfort, the list goes on and on."

"Which pile was which?" Jim asked.

Her eyes sparkled with amusement. "That's for me to know and you to find out."

"How am I supposed to find out if you won't tell me?" he questioned as she got up from the bed.

She gave him a sassy smile. "I guess you'll have to think up some other way to gain that information."

"Oh I could think of a few ways," he smiled. "The question is would I get slapped for them?"

"I guess it depends on how you go about it," Johanna quipped as she picked up her bag and moved to the doorway; glancing over her shoulder as she paused on the threshold. "Did you see anything you liked?"

He chuckled. "The red looked interesting. If you want to model it, I'll be glad to go get it for you."

"Maybe some other time," she replied; a seductive lilt in her voice just to tease him.

He held her gaze, a flicker of desire in his eyes. "One of these days, Johanna."

"One of these days, what?"

"One of these days…you'll find out," he stated; a grin touching his lips again.

She smiled, a touch of color flooding her cheeks. "I guess we'll see about that."

"I guess we will."

She felt like their little game might be drifting into dangerous territory, so she walked away and it was only after she had locked herself in the bathroom that she took the time to wonder why it hadn't bothered her that he had gotten a look at her underwear drawer.

Jim was sitting at his kitchen table with a cup of coffee and the newspaper when Johanna finally emerged from the bathroom. She walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around him as he remained seated, lowering her head to speak close to his ear.

"Can I give you a piece of advice?" she asked.

"If you think I need it," he replied; amusement in his tone as she remained in place behind him, her arms still locked around him.

"When you're picking out a shirt for a woman and you don't know what she's going to be wearing underneath it, never pick white."

"Why not?"

"Because of this," she said; stepping around him so that he could see her. "Black bras show through white shirts."

His gaze dropped from her face to her chest and he grinned as he saw that the black bra she was wearing was indeed showing through the white shirt. "I don't mind," he grinned.

"I'm sure you don't," she smirked as she moved to the counter and poured herself a cup of coffee. "But I mind."

"Why?"

"Because I'd rather have the world looking me in the eye instead of looking at my chest…like you've been doing for the past minute. Although in your case I'm sure you're just trying to figure out what pile the bra came from."

Jim laughed. "They have specific piles too?"

"Well they do match the underwear in most cases," she replied as she sat down at the table and took a piece of the paper.

"Well I can't see enough detail through the shirt to determine if it's an every day selection or a special occasion selection…but of course we might have different definitions of what's special and what's every day."

Johanna glanced at him. "You're not expecting me to feel sorry for you about that, are you?"

He shook his head. "Of course not; women who like to tease are rarely ever sorry for it."

"Now how have I teased you?" she asked with a laugh. "You're the one who picked out this shirt for me to wear."

"But you're the one who pointed out the flaw with that selection."

"I only did that for your own good as a future reference in case you'd ever have to pick out clothes again."

"A likely story," Jim replied; "But I have to say that spending time with you is very educational, Johanna."

"Oh, how so?"

"Well take today for instance; I've learned that women over think and complicate the issue of underwear."

"How do you figure?"

"To me, and every other man, underwear is underwear. Now from what you tell me, you have underwear for a multitude of occasions, like doctor's appointments, which is just ridiculous. As long as they're clean, what's the difference?"

"Well you don't want to wear something too sexy to the doctor," she retorted. "They might get the wrong idea about what kind of girl you are."

Jim laughed. "Alright, what about the date night pile? You don't need a special pile for that."

"You don't think so?"

He shook his head. "If the date has reached the point where underwear is being revealed, we don't really care what they look like as long as they come off."

Her jaw dropped. "I can't believe you said that!"

"It's the truth. I'm not saying we might not take a moment to appreciate the sight, but after that they have to go. They might be sexy, they might even be cute, but we're going to like them better when they're laying on the floor."

"Well maybe we want it to be on record that we made the effort to make it special by wearing something we thought was appealing."

"You don't have to put so much thought into it; as long as you're willing to take it off, consider it appealing," Jim laughed.

"Wow, that's so romantic," Johanna replied sarcastically.

"Sweetheart, the romance lies in getting you to the point where you want to take them off, once you're there…" he said; trailing off to let her draw her own conclusions.

She shook her head. "Well I guess this is just educational for both of us…why are we even talking about this anyway?"

"Because in my attempt to be a nice guy, I opened your underwear drawer on accident."

Johanna laughed. "Oh yeah, I almost forgot."

Jim smiled sheepishly. "I really didn't mean to invade your privacy to that extent, Jo. I just didn't want you to have to put that black dress back on today."

"I know," she answered as she reached for his hand. "I don't want you to think that I don't appreciate it because I do."

"I'm sorry though," he told her; figuring he probably should apologize for it.

"No need to be sorry," she replied. "It's okay; there isn't anything in that drawer that I'm ashamed of or that can't be seen on the store shelves…not that I want everybody and their brother peeking into my underwear drawer…but it was you…"

"Meaning?"

Johanna squeezed his hand. "Meaning that while I probably should be somewhat humiliated, I'm not…because you had good intentions and I know that you respect me…so it's not a big deal."

"So you're not mad?"

"No," she smiled. "I think it's sweet that you wanted to take care of me in this regard and besides, it was good for a laugh and god knows I needed that…so thank you, for the clothes and for making me laugh."

He returned her smile and tightened his hold on her hand. "Anytime, sweetheart."

Late that afternoon as Jim walked Johanna to her door; he stole another glance at her, admiring the way she looked in his old leather jacket. He had laughed when she had asked to borrow a jacket to hide her white shirt during those brief moments she'd be visible to the public, but when she arched a brow and informed him she had been raised a lady, he couldn't deny her. Not that he had planned on denying her request anyway. He had reached into the back of his closet and pulled out that old black leather jacket that dated from his earliest college days and gave it to her...and he had to admit, she looked damn good in it, even if it was a bit big for her.

"Are you sure you don't want to come with me?" Jim asked once they had paused at her door.

Amusement sparkled in her eyes. "I think I have enough problems without showing up with you for dinner at your mother's."

He laughed. "It could be fun though."

"For who?"

"Me and everyone else who got to witness it."

She laughed. "I think I'll pass. I've monopolized you all weekend anyway but I thank you for the offer."

"I don't mind being monopolized," Jim replied.

"I'm glad."

"It is educational, after all," he could resist stating.

Johanna eyed him. "Don't you go telling your mother about my underwear drawer."

"Scouts honor."

"Were you a boy scout?"

He grinned. "My brother and I did a brief stint in the Boy Scouts."

Her brow rose. "Brief stint?"

"Let's just say we were a little too rambunctious for the scoutmaster's taste."

Johanna laughed. "I want to hear that story one day."

"I'll tell it to you on a day when you really need a laugh."

"Sounds good," she replied; hanging her tote bag and purse on the door knob as she began to shrug off his jacket.

He caught hold of it and tugged it back up on her shoulder. "You keep it."

Puzzlement flicked across her face. "Why?"

Jim shrugged; that soft smile that she always felt like was hers and hers alone, appearing on his lips. "You look cute in it...and far better than I ever did in it."

She smiled. "That doesn't mean you have to give it to me."

"It's old; I've had it since I started college. I don't wear it anymore."

Johanna pulled it around her, holding it close as she smiled up at him. "I do like it," she admitted.

"It's yours," he said with a light laugh; seeing a glimmer of happiness in her eyes. "I'll see you later."

"Wait," she said; reaching out and grabbing hold of his shirt to keep him in place. She stepped closer to him, her fingertips brushing his face in a feather light caress before she captured his lips in a kiss. He wrapped his arms around her; a feeling of relief running through him. If she was initiating a kiss then maybe she had gotten over that proposal business.

"If you really feel the need to torment your mother, you can tell her that I kissed you before sending you on your way to her," she whispered; her voice carrying that soft, sassy lilt of seductiveness as she stepped away from him.

"Maybe I will," Jim replied. "Ruffling her feathers is always good entertainment."

"I'm glad I could be of service," she quipped as she located her keys and removed her tote bag and purse from the doorknob.

"Do you need a ride to work tomorrow?"

Johanna shook her head. "I decided to take tomorrow off. I have my files, I can do some work from home and get caught up on some stuff I let slide while all of this was going on."

He gave her a nod of approval as he pulled her in for one more hug. "I think that's a good idea. Call if you need me."

"I will," she promised. "Thanks for the jacket."

Jim couldn't resist the urge to press a gentle kiss to her lips. "I think it belongs with you."

She smiled and whispered goodnight. He waited until she was inside and heard the tumble of the lock before he walked away, a smile still on his face.

"Jimmy, what are you doing here?" Lilly Beckett asked; a grin on her face as she let her grandson into the house early the next evening.

"Can't a man just visit his grandmother?" he replied before kissing her cheek.

"You don't fool me, young man. I know how you boys are; if it isn't a birthday, holiday or dinner invitation, I don't see you…unless of course you want something," the old woman replied.

"You're so suspicious," he teased as he followed her into the living room.

"Usually with good reason," Lilly remarked as she settled into her favorite blue chair. "What do you want, Jimmy? And if it's cherry pie you're after, you're out of luck."

Jim grinned at her. "Grandma if you think I believe for a minute that there isn't a cherry pie in this house, you're crazy."

Lilly laughed joyfully; her blue eyes shining with affection and amusement. "All right, you got me; there's a cherry pie in the kitchen, but you won't get so much as a crumb until I find out what you're up to, young man."

"I guess I better put you out of your misery then. I wanted to ask you about that family history research you do."

"What about it?"

"How do you go about finding someone?" Jim asked.

"Well in the case of our family, I usually have a starting point, like a relative I already know something about. I look through family bibles and obituaries. I've spoken to other relatives. I've also done some time digging through record archives and old newspapers. Why do you ask? You've never been interested in this sort of thing before."

"I…well…I have this friend…"

Lilly's blue eyes gleamed with interest as her brow rose. "Is this friend a woman?"

"Yes," he reluctantly admitted.

"The one your father says you're smitten with…the one you're mother is in a tizzy over?"

He sighed. "That would be her. Her name is Johanna; and she is just my friend."

"Of course she is," Lilly stated; disbelief in her gaze as she eyed him. "Now what's going on with your friend?"

"She doesn't know anything about her grandmother, other than her name," he replied. "I thought maybe you could help me find something about her."

"Why doesn't she ask her parents?"

He explained the situation, including Patrick's death and Frank's anger at Johanna afterwards and the reluctance that the whole family seemed to have when it came to discussing the late Sarah McKenzie.

"I see," Lilly murmured. "Do you think it's wise to go digging into this?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"Maybe there's a reason why they don't want to discuss the woman in question."

"If that's the case, I think Johanna has a right to know."

"What if it's something better left in the past?" his grandmother asked.

"The woman was a wife and mother, she died in 1928; what could she have done that was so terrible?" Jim replied.

"You never know; there might be something."

"If it's something bad I won't tell her."

Lilly eyed him. "Do you really think you could keep it from her once you know?"

"If it's something that would hurt her, yes; I could keep it from her."

"Does she know you're doing this?"

"Of course not!"

"Jimmy…"

"Are you going to help me or not?" he asked.

Lilly saw the stubbornness in her grandson's face and smiled. "Of course I'm going to help you. What can you tell me about her grandmother?"

"Her name was Sarah McKenzie."

"What else? Do you know her maiden name?"

Jim shook his head. "Jo never mentioned that."

"Well maybe it's listed in the obituary for Johanna's grandfather. I haven't thrown out the papers yet; do you know what day his obituary was in?"

"I think it was Friday's paper."

Lilly went through the newspapers and located Patrick's obituary. After reading it, she laid it aside and looked at her grandson. "Her maiden name was Riley. It would be wise of us to go to the cemetery where Patrick was buried; I'm sure he's been put next to his wife. Her marker should give us a little more information in regard to dates and things will be easier for us once we have that information. When do you want to do this, Jimmy?"

"As soon as possible," he answered; "But it can't be during the week; how about Saturday?"

"That's fine, dear; you pick me up and we'll see what we can find."

"Great," Jim said; giving her a smile.

She eyed him seriously; "Keep in mind that researching a person's life isn't always easy…sometimes it's fruitless. Don't get your hopes too high, Jimmy."

"I won't," he replied; all the while thinking that he wasn't worried now that she was on board. Surely they'd find something. "Now that I've told you what I want, how about that cherry pie?"

Lilly smiled. "Have I ever denied you cherry pie?"

Jim nodded. "Yes; there was that time when I was seven."

"You painted your sister's face blue and green, and if I'm not mistaken, black and yellow as well."

"She wanted me to paint her face," Jim declared in his own defense. "We saw a picture in the newspaper of kids who had their faces painted. Madelyn wanted her face painted like a butterfly like the girl in the picture."

"That didn't give you leave to go out in the garage and open up my jars of paint and paint her."

"It was her idea!"

"She was five," Lilly exclaimed. "You were seven, you should've known better."

"Well I figured if the kids in that paper didn't get in trouble for it, why the hell should I? I did the best I could for her; I painted her nose black for the body and used some to outline the wings. I painted the top of her face blue and the bottom green. I gave her some yellow dots on the wings. She liked it. I thought she looked good."

"Uh huh," Lilly said; "And did your backside feel good when your mother got here and saw what you had done and paddled you for it?"

Jim shook his head. "No, that didn't feel too good...but I didn't cry. Besides, I think Madelyn should've been in trouble too since it was her idea. I think you should've taken some blame as well; you were supposed to be watching us and apparently you weren't."

Lilly's jaw dropped. "I was tending to your brother, he was sick."

"He was sick because he ate all of my damn candy that I thought I had hidden so well...and no one said a word about that either."

"You did wrong and you knew it," his grandmother remarked.

"So did everyone else. Andrew stole my candy, Madelyn thought up a bad idea and you were neglectful but I'm the only one who got punished. You yelled at me and wouldn't give me pie; mom beat my ass and sent me to my room when we got home, not to mention the fact that I had to listen to her yell about it for two weeks after the fact. See how unfair that was? That's just a small sampling of the injustice I suffered throughout my childhood; that's why I had to become a lawyer."

Lilly laughed. "Well then all that injustice was for a good cause after all, you poor thing."

Jim smirked at her. "You go ahead and make fun of me; I'm going out in the kitchen and eat a slice of that pie and then I'm taking the rest home with me to teach you a lesson about child neglect and not taking your share of the blame."

"You do that," the old woman called after him. "It'll ease my conscience a great deal."

"This is just the beginning," Jim stated. "When I come back Saturday, you better have another pie waiting."

"Or what?"

He paused as he pondered the question. "I'll think of something," he assured her; amusement lacing his tone.

Lilly laughed. "And I'll think of a way to get you back...and you know I can."

"I don't doubt that at all," he remarked as he disappeared into the kitchen.

The next weekend, Jim picked up Lilly and they headed for the cemetery that had been named in Patrick McKenzie's obituary. He held on to his grandmother's arm as they walked through the silent church yard; looking for a marker with the McKenzie name on it.

"There," Lilly said; pointing to a stone a short distance away; a new grave next to it. As they moved towards it, Lilly pulled a small tablet and a pen from her purse.

"That's her," Jim said as they came to a stop and he read the name on the stone.

"Jimmy, your eyes are younger; read me everything her marker says," Lilly requested.

"Sarah McKenzie; beloved wife and mother, born January 12, 1895, died April 16, 1928."

Lilly jotted the information down and then gave him a smile. "Now we have a period of time to search in," she told him; "But we can probably start right here. She was probably a member of this church."

"Do you think anyone will be around on a Saturday?" he asked as she retook his arm.

"Jimmy, there's always someone around in the church. You might know that if you went more often."

"Hey, you don't warm the pew every Sunday yourself," he replied.

"I bet I warm it more often than you do."

"I'll have to take your word for that. Now go on in there and be your charming self and get us the information that you need."

"You say that like I'm not always charming," his grandmother remarked.

"Well the cable company doesn't think you're all that charming."

Lilly waved a hand. "Oh they shouldn't get their knickers in a knot over every little thing."

He laughed quietly and then opened the door of the church for her.

They found an elderly priest, who introduced himself as Father O'Brien. "What can I do for you?" he asked as he showed them into the office.

Lilly explained what they were looking for and why. The priest then glanced at Jim. "If the young lady is interested, why isn't she the one seeking the answers?"

"I don't think she's thought of looking outside the family," he answered; "Or maybe she figures that if she can't get answers from her relatives, that she can't get answers anywhere."

The man eyed him. "You must care for her a great deal to take on this task of finding answers for her."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Jimmy!" his grandmother admonished.

Father O'Brien chuckled. "That's alright, Mrs. Beckett. He knows a nosy old man when he sees one. The McKenzies were members of this church. Mrs. McKenzie came every Sunday; her husband stopped coming for the most part after her death."

"Did you know her?" Jim asked.

"Briefly," the priest answered. "Mrs. McKenzie passed away about eight months after I came to this parish. I did officiate at her funeral…and I officiated at her husband's last week."

Jim took the tablet and pen from his grandmother's hand. "Can you tell me what she looked like?"

Father O'Brien took a breath. "It's been a long time, but I remember her as a lovely woman with pleasing features and dark hair. I'm afraid I don't remember eye color or anything more specific about her looks."

He nodded; something was better than nothing. "What about what kind of person she was? Can you tell me anything about her personality?"

"She was a good woman, always smiling; always full of life. She sang in the choir; she had a beautiful voice. I remember that she doted on her children…it seemed to me that she loved all children; even if they weren't her own."

"Anything else?" Jim questioned as the man paused.

He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Mr. Beckett; I'm afraid that's all I recall. It's been a very long time…nearly 50 years if I recall correctly."

"I understand," he replied; although he couldn't help but feel a small surge of disappointment that he couldn't give Johanna a little more of a first hand account of her grandmother.

"I normally wouldn't do this," Father O'Brien stated; "But since this seems to be a special case; I'm willing to look through the records and give you a copy of Mrs. McKenzie's baptism record for your friend. It might not be much, but if she knows nothing about her grandmother and that portion of her family; it will at least give her the names of her great grandparents and verify her grandmother's date of birth. Would you like me to do that?"

"Yes," Jim answered; "If you wouldn't mind."

"With Mr. McKenzie's passing, I recently spoke to the family. I believe his wife's maiden name was Riley; do you know for sure if I'm recalling that correctly."

"Yes," Lilly answered as she pulled the clipping of Patrick's obituary from the front pocket of her purse. "Sarah Riley. Her marker says she was born in January of 1895."

The priest nodded. "I'll see what I can find. It may take me a little while."

"Take your time," Jim told him. "We're not in any hurry."

It seemed like hours before the priest returned with a sheet of paper in his hand. "I'm afraid the record was smudged when it came to Mrs. McKenzie's middle initial. It looks like a 'J' but I can't be certain that it's correct."

"That's alright," Jim replied as he accepted the copy and scanned it, his eyes landing on the date of baptism. "She was baptized on February 4th…that's Johanna's birth date."

"Then she and Sarah were destined to be linked," Lilly commented.

"I do remember something else," Father O'Brien said. "I remember that Mrs. McKenzie always wore a ruby ring and a matching ruby necklace. I know it isn't much, but while looking through the records I did recall that detail."

"Anything else?"

"I'm afraid not. At the service there was a young woman who reminded me of her though."

Jim's gaze darted back to the priest. "What did she look like?"

The old man smiled. "Like Mrs. McKenzie, she had pleasing features and dark hair. I'd guess she was in her twenties. I'm afraid I didn't catch her name."

"What was she wearing?"

"A black dress," Father O'Brien answered; "But all of the women in attendance were wearing black dresses."

"Johanna's dress had short sleeves, not the regular kind of short sleeves, they were shorter than that and they were made of some kind of material that was almost transparent and different from the rest of the dress. The dress was fitted, it didn't flare. The hem came to her knee. She was wearing black open toed heels; they weren't as high as she usually wears…I guess they were kind of like sandals; they didn't have a strap around her heel or anything. She was wearing a silver cross necklace, and an emerald ring; a sliver watch and a bracelet with an amethyst butterfly charm. Her hair is dark and long, she was wearing a headband. Her eyes are green, she's thin and she's about 5'6…tack on an extra inch and a half for the shoes. Her nails are painted red…"

Lilly's laughter stopped him in his recitation. "Forgive him, Father; he's smitten."

The priest smiled; clearly suppressing his own laughter. "Yes, I can see that."

"What?" Jim said; "Big deal, I know what she looks like; I look at her every day."

Lilly gave him a mischievous look. "What was I wearing when you came to see me the other day?"

"A house dress," he answered.

"What color was it?"

"Blue I think."

"It was lavender," Lilly remarked.

"Close enough, what's your point?"

"The point is if I ever go missing, I better hope I'm with Johanna, you'll be able to describe her better than me."

He shook his head and looked back at the priest. "Was that the woman you saw?"

"I can't say for certain, but it very well could've been. I did find one other thing when I was going through the records. The McKenzies were married here," he stated; handing Jim a small scrap of paper. "That's their wedding date, November 18, 1913."

Jim thanked him for his time and his help and then led Lilly out of the church. "Where to next?" he asked.

"The library," she answered. "We'll go through the newspaper archives and see what we find."

Hours later, Jim closed the cover of one of the heavy, dusty books that contained bound copies of the old newspapers. All they had found was the marriage announcement and the obituary of Sarah McKenzie.

"It's better than nothing, Jimmy," his grandmother told him.

"I know; I just wish they had named her siblings in the obituary; it's possible one of them could still be alive, isn't it?"

"Of course it is, but that doesn't mean you could've found them."

"I could've tried," he remarked. "These people would be Johanna's great aunts and great uncles; if I could've found one, I could've put her in contact with them and maybe she could've learned more."

Lilly laid a hand on his arm. "I'm sure she'll be pleased with what you give her. You did the best you could. It would've been easier if we had more information about the family but we've made do with what we have…and I believe that will be enough to satisfy her curiosity in some ways. She'll appreciate your effort."

He didn't doubt that; he just hated the feeling of defeat when he was so sure he'd find a break and solve the mystery for her.

Jim frowned as he caught sight of the few pieces of paper he had laid aside as he ate dinner at his grandmother's table that evening. The look didn't go unnoticed by Lilly and as she scooped the last bite of her meal onto her fork, she commented on it. "You're still disappointed."

"A little," he admitted.

She smiled sympathetically. "What was it that you were hoping to find, Jimmy?"

"I don't know," he answered with a shrug. "Something more I guess."

"Honey, no amount of newspaper articles and records are going to give a complete view of who Sarah McKenzie was. They're not going to describe her laugh or what she looked like. They aren't going to list her favorite things or tell you the scent of her perfume. They won't speak of the contents of her heart or how she loved. You can't re-create this woman from sheets of paper, no matter how much you may want to."

"I know that. I just wanted to give Johanna a better idea of who her grandmother was. She says she feels the loss of not knowing her because of all of this...so it's like she's mourning two grandparents at once, and then there's her father. He goes out of his way to hurt her and it just makes me wonder if this woman who no one wants to discuss is linked to that."

"From what we know, Johanna's father and his siblings were just children when they lost their mother; that loss probably traumatized them and maybe they didn't have someone to help them through it. Maybe that's why they don't talk about her. It still hurts too much. If her grandfather kept mistaking her for this woman, then it stands to reason that Johanna looks or sounds like her in one way or another...which could be why her father has an aversion to her right now."

"But from what I've been told, he's had an aversion to her all of her life," Jim replied. "There are brief reprieves but then it's back to the usual nastiness."

"Well there are some parents who just can't seem to bond with their children or one child in particular and seemingly without reason. It's wrong of course...but Jimmy; there are some things you just can't fix."

He eyed her. "What are you getting at?"

Lilly's blue eyes were kind but knowing. "You can't fix this. You can't take away all of her hurts."

"I didn't say that I was trying to fix it."

"You are," Lilly insisted. "You're trying to fill in the puzzle for her and take away the hurt she feels."

"Well what's wrong with that?" he asked; anger simmering in his veins.

"I just told you...some things can't be fixed; you can't make the hurt stop..."

"I can try," he interrupted.

"Jimmy."

"No! I can do whatever I can to make her feel better, to give her what she needs."

"You can't give her Sarah McKenzie; and you can't make her daddy act the way he should."

"Maybe I could if I could get my hands on him," Jim said angrily; "And as for Sarah McKenzie, I know I can't bring her back to life, I just wanted Johanna to have some answers. If you didn't want to help me, you should've just said so and I would've done it on my own."

Lilly chuckled. "Oh my, there's your mother's temper. I didn't have a problem with helping you, so you just simmer down."

"Then why are you harping at me, telling me I'm wasting my time?" he asked.

Lilly slapped his hand. "Hey; don't you get snippy with me, young man! I never once said you were wasting your time; I'm just trying to tell you that you can't solve all of her problems."

"I'm not trying to."

She nodded. "No, I guess you're not...you're just trying to take on the problems that are impossible and out of your reach...no matter how much you love her."

Jim's gaze snapped to her face. "I didn't say I..."

"You don't have to say it," his grandmother interrupted. "It's in your actions, and the way you get so defensive about them. Maybe you're not ready to admit it, or to face it, but the love is there, Jimmy."

"You can love your friends," he replied; borrowing the words Johanna had spoken to Mikey.

"Of course you can," she agreed; mischief dancing in her eyes. "I have no doubt that you love your friend very much."

He gave her an exasperated look, "Is it really so wrong to try and do something for her?"

"No; not at all, but I think you should aim smaller, take her to dinner, buy her some flowers; give her a shoulder to cry on at this sad time for her..."

"I already do that," Jim replied.

"Has she asked you to do more?"

"Of course not! Johanna isn't that kind of girl. She doesn't ask for anything."

"Then why do you feel like you need to give her something more than you already do?"

"Because I want to."

"Why?"

His jaw was tight with aggravation and he was beyond the point of censoring his thoughts. "Because she's my girl and I'll do whatever the hell I want for her and I don't care who likes it and who doesn't!" he declared.

Lilly's eyes lit up. "She's your girl, is she? Well now we're getting somewhere. Of course Robert already told me you were smitten, and Elizabeth has her knickers in a knot over this young lady; but it's nice to get an admission out of you."

Jim sat there dumbfounded; how had he lost control of this conversation? He blew out a breath; old women were slick...they ought to be put away at certain age so they couldn't be a menace to their family...and society at large.

"Don't worry, it'll be our little secret," Lilly remarked as she studied her grandson.

"Grandma, I don't want to discuss this anymore," he stated as he reached for his cup of coffee.

"Alright, dear; I'll let you off the hook, but I want to meet your Johanna. You bring her over for dinner next Sunday."

Jim shook his head; "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Of course it is!" the old woman exclaimed. "Your father's met her and your sister, and Natalie and the children...and of course your mother. Anyone who can make Elizabeth that hot under the collar is worth a look; and besides, she's special to you which of course matters most. You bring her over next Sunday like I said."

"No way."

"James Robert, I'm not asking, I'm telling," Lilly said firmly.

"I'm not bringing her over here for you to interrogate and god only knows what else."

"I'll be on my best behavior."

Jim scoffed. "Right."

"Are you really going to deny an old woman some company?" Lilly asked. "I don't see you nearly enough as it is. What's so wrong with bringing her over? Is there some law that says you can't introduce your friends to your grandmother?"

"No."

"Are you ashamed of me?"

"No!" Jim exclaimed. "You know better than that."

"Then what's the problem? I gave you my word of honor that I would behave...I just want to meet her, It's not like I'm going to invite a preacher to marry the two of you after the meal."

"Grandma," he sighed.

"Don't you love me, Jimmy?"

"You know I do."

"Then you'll bring your friend over for dinner next Sunday?"

He wasn't going to win this; Lilly Beckett rarely lost a battle when it was waged.

"Alright, Grandma; I'll ask her."

Lilly smiled; victory gleaming in her eyes as she patted his hand. "That's all I ask, dear."

Jim gave a soft laugh as he shook his head; he was probably going to regret this...which meant Johanna would probably love it...and he figured that might make it worth it.

The next day as Jim stood in Johanna's kitchen, he shifted on his feet, suddenly feeling the awkwardness of telling her that he had been prying into her business. What if she got angry? Maybe he hadn't thought this through. Maybe he should just forget it. It wasn't like he had really found anything worthwhile.

"Something on your mind?" Johanna asked; glancing at him as she poured the coffee. He rubbed a hand against the back of his neck; a nervous habit that she had picked up on long ago.

"Kind of," he answered.

"Work?"

"No."

"Do you want to tell me about it?" she asked as she sat the mugs on the table.

"Yeah...but I'm not sure how you're going to feel about it."

That statement struck the chord of worry in her heart, and a hundred different scenarios flicked through her mind. "What is it?" she questioned hesitantly.

He paced a few steps and then turned back towards her. "I guess what it comes down to is that I kind of pried into your business, Jo...and I didn't have your permission to do that."

She gave him a puzzled look. "Jim, there isn't much of my business that I keep from you…and you've already opened my underwear drawer. What's left?"

He smirked. "I can think of a few things."

"Oh I'm sure you can but I doubt this is about any of them, so what is it?"

"I looked into your grandmother's life."

"My grandmother?"

"The one you don't know anything about...Sarah. I asked my grandmother to help me find out about her."

Johanna smiled softly. "You did that for me?"

He nodded; relief filling him as she didn't seem mad. "Of course."

"Why?"

Everyone seemed to want to know the answer to that question, Jim thought to himself. His grandmother had asked it, and so had the priest at the church. He had done it because it needed to be done, but he knew that his reason hadn't totally been bought, but he didn't care. All that mattered was that he was trying to give Johanna something that she needed.

"Because you needed to know...and no one else was willing to tell you anything."

"And you dragged your grandmother into it with you?"

"I had to," he replied; "She knows how to do that stuff. She likes it."

She didn't even know if he had found anything but warmth spread through her at the knowledge that he would take on the task without even being asked. She wrapped her arms around him in a hug and held onto him tightly.

"So I take it you aren't mad?" he as asked as his arms went around her.

"Why would I be mad?" Johanna asked. "I think it's sweet that you'd go through so much trouble for me."

"It was no trouble."

"Did you find anything?" she inquired as she pulled away from him and sat down at the table.

"Not as much as I had hoped," he answered; pulling a few folded sheets of paper from his pocket before sitting down across from her.

"Anything is better than what I have, which is nothing."

Jim unfolded the first sheet of paper and slid it across the table to her. "This is her baptism record," he stated. "Apparently whoever recorded the information, neglected to write out her middle name. The initial looked like a J but it was smudged so it could be wrong."

Johanna studied the record intently. "She wasn't even a month old yet when she was baptized."

"The priest said that was common back then because babies didn't have the survival rate that they do now."

"She was christened on February 4...that's my birthday."

"I know," Jim replied. "That was the first thing I noticed when I read it. My grandmother said that you and Sarah must've been destined to be linked."

"It kind of seems that way, doesn't it?"

"The priest we talked to remembers your grandmother."

Johanna's eyes lit up as her gaze met his. "He does? What did he say about her? Did he tell you what she was like?"

He unfolded the piece of paper that he had written his notes on. "He said that she was a lovely woman with dark hair and pleasing features. He said that she always wore a ruby ring and a matching necklace. She sang in the church choir and had a beautiful voice. He told me that Sarah loved children and that she was full of life and always smiling."

"I guess that must be where Colleen gets her singing voice," Johanna remarked.

"I've heard you singing along with the radio; you carry a tune pretty well, Jo."

She shook her head. "Colleen's voice is better than mine. Her voice is beautiful. Did he say anything else about my grandmother?"

"Just that he presided over her services."

She nodded. "She sounds like she must've been a nice person."

"I think she sounds like you in a lot of ways," Jim replied. "Maybe that's why your grandfather kept mistaking you for her. Maybe you reminded him of her and that brought him comfort."

"I guess I'll really never know for sure what it was; if it was personality or looks or some combination of both. My father sure as hell isn't going to tell me."

"I wish the priest could've remembered more about her. I wish I could've given you more of a first hand account of her."

Johanna took his hand. "Don't feel like it isn't enough. I'm glad to know these things about her. Maybe a part of me has been afraid that...that maybe there was something wrong with her...or that she had done something wrong."

"I didn't find any evidence of some dark secret or wrong doing hanging over her legacy," Jim told her. "I figure Sarah's only crime was dying young."

"I guess I've probably known that all along... but at least I know that there doesn't appear to be any black marks against her."

"We went through the newspaper archives and found the notice for her marriage and her obituary," he remarked as he slid the remaining two pages across the table to her.

She smiled as she read over the wedding announcement and then she took a breath before reading the obituary.

April 17, 1928; Mrs. Patrick McKenzie:

Mrs. Sarah (Riley) McKenzie; wife of Patrick McKenzie; died at her home last evening after an illness of one week. Mrs. McKenzie was the daughter of Edward H. Riley and Mary Alice (Callahan) Riley. She was born January 12, 1895 in Erie Pennsylvania but was a life long resident of New York. She was a member of St Francis Catholic Church where she sang with the choir. Surviving besides her husband and parents are four young children, Colin, Margaret, Franklin, and Bridget McKenzie. Also surviving are three brothers and two sisters. Funeral services will be conducted tomorrow at St. Francis, with burial in the church cemetery.

Sadness welled up inside of her as she finished reading and she had to swallow the lump that had grown in her throat. "Is it strange to miss someone that you never knew?" Johanna asked quietly.

Jim shook his head. "I don't think so."

"I just can't help but feel like she must've been someone really special," she murmured.

"I would think that she had to be," he remarked.

"Why is that?"

"Because you're her granddaughter...and I know that you're special."

She smiled as her eyes misted. "But what does that have to do with anything?"

"I figure it's an inherited trait...and as lovely as your mother is, from the little I know of her; I think you have a little something extra that she doesn't. I mean no offense to your mother by that of course."

She took his hand once more. "I know you don't."

Silence fell for a moment before Jim spoke once more. "You may not have gotten to know Sarah McKenzie; but I'm sure that she knows you...and wherever she is up there, she loves you...and so does your grandfather."

She squeezed his hand, letting the grief take over for a moment as a few tears broke free. "You think so?"

Jim nodded. "I wouldn't say it if I didn't."

Johanna regained her composure and wiped away her tears before carefully folding up the sheets of paper he had given her. "Thank you for this."

"It wasn't a problem. I'd do anything I can for you, Johanna."

"I know...and I hope you know that's mutual."

He held her gaze. "I know."

She smiled. "Thank your grandmother for me too."

He shifted in his seat. "You can thank her yourself."

Confusion colored her features. "What do you mean?"

"Well...she's...we're…we're invited to dinner next Sunday."

Her brow rose. "We are?"

"We are," he replied. "She'd like to meet you...it would be just us and her; if you don't have other plans...if you want to go. You don't have to go if you don't want to. I don't want you to think that you're obligated."

She laughed softly at his rambling; a part of her enjoying how he squirmed while extending the invitation his grandmother had issued. "I think it sounds nice," she told him.

"You do?"

"Yes...is there a reason why I shouldn't?"

"No!" he exclaimed hurriedly. Damn Lilly Beckett for turning him into a nervous, stammering fool.

"I'd be happy to meet your grandmother, Jim."

A smile spread across his lips. "Great. I'll pick you up around four-thirty if that's okay."

"That's fine," Johanna answered. "Maybe one day soon, I'll take you to Brooklyn to meet Sophia Calabrese...and then we'll be even in the Grandma department."

"I think I'd like that."

There was silence as Johanna once again looked over the pages he had given her. He was still feeling a bit unsure about the prospect of taking her to his grandmother's; God only knew what that slick old woman had up her sleeve.

"My grandmother has promised to behave," he stated; "But I'm going to go ahead and apologize in advance because I don't believe her at all."

Johanna glanced at him. "Should I be worried?"

"No...just prepared...just in case. I figure you're relatively safe though; I'm probably the one who will suffer and you'll have a good laugh about it."

"That doesn't sound too bad," she laughed. "I'm sure we can handle it...and if I laugh at your expense, I'll try to keep it at a minimum."

"That's alright, sweetheart; you laugh all you want, that will make my suffering worth it."

Her eyes sparkled with amusement. "I think I'm going to look forward to this."

"Good...maybe that will keep that sad look off your face."

So he had picked up on those little bouts of melancholy and restlessness she was feeling; or rather had been feeling for months only it was more pronounced now. She covered his hand with hers. "Don't worry, I'm okay. It's just something I have to work through I guess."

"You let me know if you need help working through it, okay?"

"I always do," she replied; "And I am looking forward to having dinner with you and your grandmother on Sunday."

"Grandma's looking forward to it too," he answered.

"What about you?"

Jim smiled. "I'll let you know when it's over."

Johanna laughed. "What's the point then?"

"I can't be disappointed that way."

She shook her head at him. "Don't worry, it'll be fine. I'll hold your hand."

He gave her another smile. "Now I'm looking forward to it."

Author's Note: In regard to the research about Sarah McKenzie, keep in mind that in Apologize, Johanna said she didn't know much about her grandmother, not that she knew nothing.