That's all she wanted. All she had ever wanted. To be loved. She had always felt different, set apart, unseen. Alone. Even in a crowd of people, all laughing and drinking and having a good time, she was like a swirling, invisible mist. An observer. A watcher.

"How can they NOT feel my yearning, my desperate ache to belong?" she thought, tears blurring her view of the surrounding happiness of others.

She had given up by age thirty, and stayed at home with her large, cold mother, and vivacious younger sister, Benny. Their father had mysteriously disappeared one day years ago while the two children were sent on an errand to borrow sugar from their distant neighbor.

"Oh, Andy, please come to the barn dance tonight! EVERYONE will be there! You can wear your pink dress and you'll look so pretty!" Seventeen-year-old Benny was a lively, beautiful girl with large, sparkling brown eyes, smooth, pink-cheeked skin, and glossy chestnut hair. A late-life, unexpected and initially unwanted baby, she had quickly become the love of her mother's life. Andy, "Andrea," never begrudged her sweet younger sister "Benita" her beauty, but while watching Benny brush her hair, often wondered why all of the good looks in the family had gone to only one child.

"Benny, thank you, dear, but, well, I have a headache and I promised Ma to help her with the baking tonight." She smiled at her sister and quickly looked down after catching a glimpse of her own face in the dresser mirror that Benny had turned around from. She couldn't help but contrast her own lank, dull brown hair, round face, small eyes, and large nose with Benny's angelic face. And the thirty-year-old already had a solid, matronly shape. "Well, I guess it was just bad luck that I took after Ma, and Benny looks like handsome Pa. Sure wish he would come back from wherever he went," she wistfully thought, while knowing he never would. She had overheard the vicious arguments between her parents while young Benny slept.

"Andy! I forgot to tell you the news! Ma hired a man to help with the chores! When she took more sweet rolls to town for Miss Kitty last week, Ma asked if she knew of a trustworthy man. His name is Pete, and he only wants meals and a place to live! I hope he's handsome," she added in a dreaming voice. As much as men loved to admire her, Benny loved to look back.

"Well, I don't know about that. Having a strange man around…" Andy said in a worried voice. But she had to admit she was also curious, and a very tiny part of her hoped he might be interesting. "Oh, what a goose you are, Andy! He'll be big and sweaty, loud and crude, and smell like manure!" she told herself with a shrug and a small, crooked smile.

Pete Sievers arrived two days later, while Benny was on a rare train trip to Wichita with her best friend Mae Stewart and Mae's parents. Mae's grandparents were well-to-do, and were very pleased that their treasured granddaughter would be bringing Benny Dubois for company. Andy had contributed her sewing money to Ma's egg money to give excited Benny some money for shopping.

"Welcome, Mr. Sievers. Andrea will show you to your room in the barn. I've fixed it up very nicely, if I do say so myself. Supper will be on the table in about thirty minutes, so don't dally out there." The large, intimidating woman eyed the thirty-year-old man up and down as she spoke, searching for any signs of disreputable behavior. She had to grudgingly approve of his neat appearance with his pleasant, clean-shaven face. Everything about him was average-his height, his looks, the length of his wavy, brown hair, the blue of his eyes. And she approved of his silent ways. He only unsmilingly nodded at Andy when introduced, picked up his small bag, and followed her out to the barn. "I think he'll do," Delores Dubois thought, " but I'm still glad I arranged for Benny to be out of town until I'm certain." Two of the few people she trusted to watch over Benny were Mae's vigilant parents. Young Mae was just as bubbly and "boy-crazy" as Benny, and Mr. and Mrs. Steward kept careful watch over both girls.

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"Kitty. Is that a new dress you have on? It's fine, just fine! From St. Louie, too, I would guess," Doc said, admiring the fit and expert needlework of the glossy, low-cut, dark-blue garment. He and Kitty were sitting together at their usual table in the Long Branch, each sipping from a small, thick glass of whiskey.

"Thank you, Doc! This dress IS new, and thank you for noticing, which is more than some men do, but it was made by Andrea Dubois. She is such a talented and fast seamstress!"

"Well, what do you know? "Andy" Dubois! Looking at that dour, sad young woman, you'd never guess she was only around thirty, and could create beauty." The old doctor shook his head and rotated his half-empty glass on the tabletop with his hands.

"I think that her sewing is about the only pleasure Andy gets out of life. Whenever she comes into town for my fittings, her mother is with her, and Andy is only allowed up in my room. " Kitty said. "I got to tell you, Doc, Delores Dubois is a dour person to be around, and I'm always relieved when she leaves."

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Andy and Pete walked silently to the barn, and she showed him what used to be the tack room, now supplied with a tidy bunk and a small table with an oil lamp on it. She watched the man walk in, look around, and then put his small bag on the bunk. He then turned back to her, nodded his head, and sat down as the silent woman returned his nod and walked away.

"Supper's ready," Andy announced in a soft voice about twenty-five minutes later, reappearing and knocking timidly on the frame of the open door. She saw that the new farm worker was still sitting where she had left him, his head down, hands on his knees, and a spark of curiosity flared in her.

Supper in the Dubois home when cheerful Benny was there was full of her laughter and little jokes, giggles, and stories. With her gone, the only sounds were chewing, and the occasional clink of a utensil against a plate. The new addition to the table did not change this. None of the three felt the need nor desire to talk, and none were interested in the thoughts of the others.

"Thank you for the meal, Ma'am," Pete said as he laid his silverware on his empty plate, and scraped back his chair. "I'll get started on the plowing tomorrow morning right after I take care of the stock."

After he quietly left, Andy and her mother cleared the table, washed the dishes, and took their usual seats in the small living area by the fireplace. Andy picked up her sewing, and Mrs. Dubois opened her well-used Bible. An hour passed, the only sound being the collapsing of a log in the fireplace, and the faint swish of pages being turned. Then the two women picked up their lamps and headed to their bedrooms.

"I wish Benny were here," Andy thought, having spent few nights without the presence of her younger sister, who even in sleep seemed to fill the small room with light and warmth. The stocky woman in the thick flannel nightgown swung her feet over the side of her bed, got up and went over to the partly-open window. Holding the curtain aside, Andy turned her face up towards the glow of the full moon, bathing her face in its comfort. After a few moments, she quickly dressed, held her shoes in one hand, and crept towards the front door. Carefully closing the door, she slipped her shoes on and ran with a surprising lightness towards her special spot in a small, nearby meadow surrounded by trees. The usually somber young woman loved the night sky when the moon was bright and the stars filled the dark dome like a million jewels. Her destination was a bench she had made from three thick boards and stacked rocks in the center of the sweet-smelling, grassy meadow. She would sit on the bench, gazing up, and feel a connection with the faraway stars that she never found with people. A rare smile curved her lips as she ran, until seeing another figure sitting there, she came to a sudden stop.

"OH!" she uttered involuntarily in her surprise, and stared open-mouthed when the new farm hand turned his head towards her. Quickly standing up, he stood still as Andy slowly approached, drawn like a moth to a flame.

"You like to look at the stars?" she asked softly as she reached the other end of the bench and sat down.

"Yes, Miss Andrea. I can leave if you want me too." But as he looked into her moonlit eyes, he saw a kindred spirit, and sat down again.

In silent companionship, the young man and young woman tilted their heads back and traveled up to the glittering stars, wrapping themselves in the soft, dark velvet sky, leaving their earthly troubles behind.

An hour passed. Andy looked over at the man's profile. "You've been hurt by what's been. I've been hurt by what can never be." As she studied his silent face, she saw the glistening of a tear in his upward-looking eye.

This became their routine. Nine nights of silently meeting at the bench, sitting down and letting the starry sky and changing moon welcome them together. When they both stood up after an hour to go back to their separate, lonely existences, they began to tentatively exchange quick smiles before walking back together. They never touched hands, but each felt a connection.

On the tenth day, Benny came home.