True Companions

by Mary

An inside glimpse at "Scarecrow and Mrs. King" through four very different sets of eyes...

3. Part Three - Jamie

*DISCLAIMER** see Part One…

TRUE COMPANIONS

PART THREE:

JAMIE KING

"ACCEPTANCE"

I really didn't like Lee Stetson. I spent one whole afternoon trying to decide what it was about him that bothered me so much, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't come up with anything except a vague, uneasy feeling. Like whenever he talked to me, he seemed to have one eye on the nearest exit.

Don't get me wrong, he made all the right moves. Whenever my brother Phillip and I saw him, he was always polite and friendly. I guess you could say he tried to be our pal. He let Phillip mess around under the hood of his Corvette one morning, something I could have told him was a big mistake. He even offered to take me with him to the track the next time he took his car out for a few test laps. Of course, I wasn't going to hold my breath waiting for that to happen. Adults always say things they don't mean, especially to kids.

Nobody else seemed to share my opinion of him, though. My mother seemed to like him a lot, but that was no real surprise. After all, he was her boss, and I'd heard her tell Grandma that they worked together on special projects all the time. Grandma said he was a real buff hunk. Of course, I'd seen her pick up a total stranger at the produce counter in the supermarket, so I didn't usually think too much of her opinion. Phillip thought he was an okay guy, but then again, Phillip liked everyone, including that rude Nancy Crawford who currently had him on a leash. Even my dad seemed to get along with him just fine. In fact, when Mr. Stetson had come over to our house on Christmas Eve, Dad had acted like they were friends.

I'd been looking forward to the holiday for a long time. As far back as I could remember, it had always been my favorite time of year. I know lots of kids say that, but to me it wasn't just about all the gnarly presents Phillip and I received. When I was little, Christmas always meant that my dad was coming home.

Even when my parents were married, Dad didn't live with us year round. He was an important lawyer, and his job took him all over the word, to really neat places like Japan and Africa. Mom said that he was busy giving back to people who were less fortunate, and that Phillip and I should be very proud of him. I was glad he wanted to help people build a better life, but sometimes I thought it might be nice if he was around to help me build a tree house or practice my reading.

But no matter where he was during the rest of the year, he always came home at Christmastime. Mom would spend weeks getting ready, cleaning the house and baking all sorts of good things to eat. Phillip and I would pitch in, too, drawing pictures to hang on the refrigerator and helping with the decorations, and all my grandparents would come for Christmas dinner. Grandma West would make her special sweet potato pie, Grandma King would fuss over us all and my grandpas would play gin rummy. And my mom would laugh a lot. I think that's what I loved best –Mom was always so happy when we were all together.

Until one year when everything changed.

I had just turned seven that November. I remembered it so clearly because I'd had a really big party - Mom had let me invite my whole second grade class. But the best surprise was when Dad came home the night before my birthday.

Although for some reason, Mom didn't seem too glad to see him. I can remember getting out of bed for a drink of water and hearing them arguing. I knew I should have been in my room, but I was thinking about all the presents I was going to get the next day, and I couldn't sleep.

"I can't believe you'd pick today of all days to do this, Joe," I heard my mother tell my dad in an angry voice she'd never used before. They hardly ever fought around us. "In case you'd forgotten, tomorrow is Jamie's birthday."

Of course he knew it was my birthday, I thought with a frown, rubbing my bare foot across the carpet so hard that my skin burned. Why would Mom think he'd forget something like that? He'd come all that way just to help me celebrate. It made me feel very grown up and every bit as important as all those people who depended on Dad for help.

"I'm sorry about the timing, Amanda, but it was the only week I could spare," my dad answered. He sounded really tired, and I wondered why he didn't get some sleep. He always went right to bed when he came home for one of his visits. Mom had explained that flying so far made you really exhausted. "The big holiday drive at EAO begins next week," he continued as I crept closer to their bedroom. "And I thought it might be easier if we told them together."

"Nothing is going to make this easier, but I suppose you're right. I just didn't want. . ."

The breeze from the open bathroom window blew the door shut with a loud thud and suddenly both my parents were in the hall staring down at me.

"How long have you been standing there, Jamie?" Mom asked, glancing nervously at Dad. Her voice was very low and her eyes were all red, like mine had looked that time I'd broken my arm. It had really hurt and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop crying.

"You need to get to bed or you'll be falling asleep in the middle of your party," Dad joked, picking me up and carrying me back to my room. He tucked me in and gave me a kiss goodnight. "Now close your eyes. Tomorrow's going to be a great day."

Dad was right; it was a great day. Everyone had fun. I didn't even mind that I'd been forced to invite Phillip's stupid friends, too. I can still remember the smallest details from that party; the big bunch of red and blue balloons that hung on the front door, the neat electric car Tommy Newhouse gave me, and Phillip's friend Jimmy Deason with frosting smeared all over his nose.

And the miserable look on Mom's face the next day when she and Dad told us they were getting a divorce.

They'd called us both into the living room. Phillip and I sprawled on the sofa while they sat across from us, Mom smoothing the wrinkles out of her skirt and Dad repeatedly clearing his throat. They both still loved us, they said, that would never change; but they had decided they shouldn't be married anymore. Phillip cried a little then, even though he denied it later. Dad patted his knee and promised that things wouldn't be that different; he would still see us whenever he could. I just sat there, kicking my shoe against the cushions, thinking about how happy I'd been yesterday when he'd helped me open my presents.

He'd told us things wouldn't change, but they did. Grandma moved into the guest room permanently; Mom started to look for a part-time job; and Dad didn't come home for Christmas any more.

This year was a different story. Dad had moved to Washington permanently last January and had his own apartment about fifteen minutes away. Even so, he was spending the Christmas holidays at our house - just like old times. My mother was glad, too. At least that's what Grandma thought. I'd overheard her mention to my Great-Aunt Lillian that she hadn't seen Mom this happy in years.

Mom had been in a really good mood lately. It was a real change from the way she'd been acting at Thanksgiving. She'd seemed so down, which wasn't like her at all. She'd tried to shrug off my questions, saying that she was just trying to forget some nasty stuff that had happened at work. But I had a feeling it was more than that; I could always tell when she was upset.

I was happy that having Dad around this year had put her in such a good mood.

A mood she seemed to want to share with all her friends. Like Mr. Stetson. Mom was a pretty generous person, so it was natural for her to want to include him in our Christmas. Especially since he didn't seem to have anywhere else to go. It wasn't the first time she'd done something like that. Her good friend, Dean, had come for dinner one year. He'd even brought me an entire junior weatherman kit, with a barometer and everything. I remembered thinking it was a lot cooler than he was.

Grandma had really liked Dean – even more than Mom did, I think. She kept saying that Mom and Dean were going to get married, and Phillip seemed to agree with her, but I was pretty certain they were both wrong. My mother never looked at Dean in any particular way, never made him special meals or gave him those little hugs she used to give my Dad. And, as it turned out, I was right. Mom began to spend more time at work, and Dean slowly stopped coming around. The only place Phillip and I ever saw Dean McGuire these days was on the weekend weather reports on Channel 4.

So that's why I didn't think too much of Mr. Stetson coming to Christmas Eve dinner. Or even of Mom kissing him when he left later that night. After all, Phillip had hung that mistletoe by the front door on purpose, so that everyone who came in and out would get caught. But I did think it was a little strange when the guy showed up again the next day. Especially after Dad left early, saying he had a previous engagement for Christmas dinner.

That's when Mr. Stetson really started to bug me.

And every time he came over, he seemed to get under my skin more and more. Maybe it was the way my mother looked at him or held his hand when she thought no one could see. Or the way Grandma fussed over him and started talking about marriage again whenever Mom was out of the room. And then there was Phillip. . .

Phillip just wouldn't stop yakking about him. To hear him tell it, the guy walked on water or something. And Lee – well, Lee seemed to like my brother just as much. He didn't look like he wanted to get out of the room when he talked to Phillip.

Of course, that was nothing new. People always liked Phillip. Especially girls. I mean, what wasn't to like? He'd grown a foot since Christmas, he was a starting forward on the basketball team, and he hung out with the cool crowd at school. Plus, he had 20/20 vision and straight teeth.

Definitely not what I saw when I looked into the mirror.

There were times I wondered if we were even related. When I was little and Phillip was mad at me, he used to tell me that I was adopted. I'd believed him for about a month, until I finally found the courage to ask Mom. I knew from the expression on her face that Phillip was in for one of her little 'talks'. It couldn't have happened to a nicer guy.

Of course, I loved my brother, I really did, it's just sometimes he was a bit much to take. Especially when he was around that stupid Nancy. Man, her I really couldn't stand; especially after she'd called me 'Zorba the Geek' in front of a bunch of Phillip's friends one afternoon at the mall.

That had been Lee Stetson's fault, too, in a round about way. Mom had promised to drive me to pick up the book on cellular mitosis I'd special ordered at the bookstore, but at the last minute she'd had to go into work. She was working on a complicated project, she told me by way of apology. It must have been a pretty messy one, too, because I'd heard Grandma complaining that morning about the pile of sooty clothes she'd left in the hamper for her to wash. Still, if it hadn't been for Lee and that stupid project, I wouldn't have had to tag along to the mall with Phillip, and Nancy Crawford wouldn't have called me that awful name that somehow seemed to stick.

And to make matters worse, Dad invited us all out to dinner the next week to meet his new fiancée.

Mom said she couldn't go; she had a doctor's appointment after work. Just routine, she assured us, but she'd already missed it once, and she'd be in big trouble if it happened again. Grandma snickered and said that it was amazing the lengths some people would go to get out of a simple dinner engagement.

She was home and waiting for us when Dad dropped us off. "Did you guys have a nice time?" she asked, her face glued to her magazine. We both knew she was really asking if we'd liked Carrie.

"Yeah, she seemed okay," Phillip told her, and I agreed. Actually, she'd been more than okay. She taught advanced biology at a Bethesda high school, and she'd offered to work with me on my science fair project this year. Since it was a pretty safe bet that Mom would be too busy to be much help, I'd gladly accepted. Besides, science wasn't really her best subject. I hadn't forgotten that radio receiver disaster from a few years ago.

"Dad said the wedding would be sometime in July," I informed her, flopping down next to her on the sofa. "He said he wants us both to be ushers." I watched her closely, trying to gauge her reaction. I thought she seemed a little sad when I told her the part about us being in the wedding. I hoped she didn't mind because I was kind of looking forward to wearing a tux and everything.

"That will be nice, fellas," she said at last, mussing up my hair like she used to do when I was a little kid, and I guessed she was okay with it. Mom never said anything she didn't mean.

"Dad really wants you to meet her, too," I'd added, giving her a hug in return. It was true. He'd said that no matter what happened, we'd always be his family.

"As soon as I get back from my vacation, I promise." Giving us both a big grin, she sent us off to finish our homework and get into bed. She sure seemed happy about her vacation. I smiled back as I turned to follow Phillip upstairs. Carrie might have more time for my project, but she could never take my mother's place.

I was going to miss her when went on her trip.

* * *

Phillip had been looking forward to Mom's vacation almost as much as she had. And even though I was still a little ticked that she hadn't taken us along, I had to admit that we usually had a pretty neat time when Mom went out of town. Grandma was such a pushover. She always let us stay up to watch the late show with her and drink Chocco Blocko shakes instead of milk for dinner. And she hardly ever made us eat green beans.

We were full of plans for the week. It had taken some doing, but I'd finally convinced Grandma that she didn't really need to go with me to get my haircut tomorrow. I had an idea about how I could get rid of that 'Zorba the Geek' nickname once and for all. And Phillip had conned her into letting him study with Nancy on Tuesday night. Although, I don't know if that was such a wise decision on Grandma's part. With their approach to homework, I had a feeling neither one of them would see a high school classroom next year if they were left to their own devices.

Homework. That's what Phillip and I were doing when we heard the news. At least, I was; Phillip was lying on his bed listening to his Walkman. He was so absorbed that he didn't even hear the knock on the door or see Dad stick his head inside.

"Hey, Dad, what are you doing here?" I was a little surprised. We saw a lot of him, but never unannounced on a Sunday night, especially when Mom was out of town and we had school the next day. Mom and Grandma had very particular rules about school nights.

He walked into our bedroom, Grandma right behind him, and I knew by their expression that something was really wrong. So did Phillip; I could see it in his reaction when he finally tore the headphones off his ears. The sounds of U2 blared out as they dangled around his neck.

"Hey, fellas, we need to talk," Dad said somberly, sitting down beside me on the bed. "I'm afraid I've got some bad news."

We both sat very still, waiting for him to continue. It wasn't like him to beat around the bush like that. Dad and Mom were both pretty direct.

He took a deep breath, shaking his head as he looked first at Phillip, then at me. I looked away, focusing on the yellow line that ran through the red plaid design on my bedspread.

"Your mother's had an accident." I heard the words but I couldn't really process them. Phillip dropped his Walkman and it hit the dresser with a sharp crack, and all I could think was how mad he was going to be if it was broken.

"Mom had an accident?" I repeated, pushing my glasses back up my nose. They didn't fit right and were always falling down. Mom had told me we'd go get them readjusted as soon as she came home from her trip. I raised my head and encountered Dad's face.

"Yes, she's in the hospital in California," he said in a subdued voice that told me just how worried he really was. I'd never heard my Dad yell when he was angry or upset; instead, he just got quiet. "She was shot earlier today and just got out of surgery."

"Shot? With a gun?" Phillip asked.

"Yes," Dad answered in a voice that was even lower.

"Is she okay? Can we talk to her?" I could tell by the way Phillip's foot was tapping on the floor that he was just as upset as Dad. I was glad he'd had the nerve to ask the questions I was too afraid to voice.

Dad and Grandma glanced quickly at each other, then looked away. "Not right now," Grandma replied, her own voice a little shaky. "When I spoke to Lee, he said that she was in intensive care."

I sat there, trying to take it all in. Nothing made any sense. Mom had been shot. And Lee Stetson was there. It was a few minutes before I realized that Grandma was still talking.

". . .so that's all we know right now. I'm going to fly out there tomorrow, boys, and your Dad is going to stay here with you. At least until we know for sure what's going to happen. . ."

"Is she going to. . ." I couldn't finish my question, but it didn't matter. Neither Dad nor Grandma seemed able to answer it. Instead, Dad put his arm around me and pulled me close, motioning for Phillip to come sit on his other side.

"No matter what, we'll get through this together," he said somberly, while Grandma looked as if she was trying not to cry. "Your mother's a strong woman. She'll do her best to come back to us all."

I hoped my Dad was right, but nothing seemed certain any more. I only knew that I didn't want my mother to die. She was the glue that held my family together.

He talked to us for a little while longer, then finally left us alone to try and get some sleep. I lay there in the dark, listening to my brother's raspy breathing, trying not to think about what had happened to Mom. And what still might happen.

"Phillip, are you okay?" I asked when I couldn't stand to hear him any more.

"Mom's in intensive care in a hospital three thousand miles away, Worm Brain, how do you think I am?"

I could tell that he'd been crying. Phillip always got particularly nasty when he'd been caught doing something he considered 'unmanly'. Last fall, when Mom had been on the run, he'd never missed an opportunity to act out his tough guy image. I could tell it was going to be the same thing all over again this time. I wished sometimes he didn't feel like he had to pretend with me. I was just as worried as he was.

"What do you think will happen to us if Mom. . ." I couldn't say the words out loud, but I couldn't keep from hearing them in my head. If Mom dies.

"You heard Dad – I guess we'd live with him and Carrie."

"Yeah."

I wasn't sure exactly what I thought about that idea. Sure, I loved my Dad, but this was home. And Grandma – if we went to live with Dad, then what would happen to her? If Mom died, she'd be all alone. She'd need us. I didn't want to leave her; and I knew Mom wouldn't want that, either. But what if we didn't have a choice?

There were just too many questions running through my head. I closed my eyes with a sigh, trying not to think about all the possible answers.

* * *

"You're really in for it now," Phillip announced me as he bounced the basketball off the wall in our room. "I've never seen Dad's face look purple before."

I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to pretend Phillip was someplace else. It was kind of hard, though, with all the racket he was making with that stupid ball.

This had been the worst day. When Grandma had called from California to tell us that Mom was going to be okay, I didn't even know what to say. I knew I should feel happy - that I was happy - but all I could think about was the look on the principal's face when she told my Dad I'd been fighting during recess.

"Is it true Mrs. Dennis had to call Dad out of court to come into the office?" Phillip continued in his most irritating voice. "That's what Jimmy told everyone. And that she felt sorry for you 'cause of Mom, so she went easy on you." How Phillip's friend Jimmy, a guy who was still reading on the fifth grade level, had managed to find all that out, I couldn't fathom. The school's underground must have been working overtime.

"Hey, maybe now that Mom's gonna be all right, you'll get suspended after all," Phillip added happily. There were times I really wished he would do the world a favor and disappear.

I really couldn't help what had happened. Tommy Newhouse, a guy I'd thought was my friend, started calling me that stupid 'Zorba' nickname. On top of everything else in my life, it was just too much to take. I'd had to punch him. Then one thing led to another and before I knew it, I was in Mrs. Dennis' office listening to her tell my Dad that my behavior, while understandable, really couldn't be overlooked. She'd been forced to give me a week's after-school detention. Tommy got off with just a couple of days, which I didn't really understand since I was the one who'd ended up with the black eye.

As it turned out, detention wasn't such a bad thing after all. At least it gave me a chance to get some reading done in relative peace and quiet. Our house was anything but these days, with Phillip still acting like a jerk and Dad trying to finish up all the work he'd brought home from the office.

The only bright spot was Carrie. She came over almost every night to cook dinner, and she always brought something new for me to read. Sometimes it was a book; other times, an article she'd shared with her class. She'd even offered some pretty good advice on how to deal with Tommy Newhouse and the other guys that were giving me a hard time at school.

"I don't see why you like Carrie so much but you don't like Lee," Phillip asked me one night as we got ready for bed. "He's really a lot more fun."

The two of them had played a quick game of one-on-one earlier when Lee stopped by to pick up some of Mom's things. Phillip said Lee was flying back to California to stay with her until she was well enough to come home, which should be in another week or so.

"How do you know all that?" I'd asked suspiciously. Phillip wasn't always the most reliable source of information.

"Lee told me, Bozo, how do you think I know? He'd have told you, too, if you ever bothered to say two words to him."

I turned my back on my brother, heading to the bathroom to brush my teeth. I hadn't been very nice to Lee today. He'd invited me to play basketball, too, but I'd mumbled something about homework and escaped upstairs. I knew that Mom would be ashamed of my behavior if he told her, but I couldn't help it. I really didn't want to see Lee Stetson right now.

I think Dad felt the same way. I'd accidentally overheard them arguing in the back yard when I took out the trash. I shouldn't have eavesdropped. Mom wouldn't have approved of that, either, but I'd never heard Dad so upset – not even when he told us Mom had been shot. Even though his voice was eerily quiet, I could still feel the anger radiating off him.

I unconsciously held my breath as his tone grew louder. "I've tried to be understanding about the choices she's made," Dad told Lee, "but this is too much to be expected to handle. I've had to bite my tongue not to say anything to Dotty."

I couldn't hear Lee's response, so I took a few tentative steps towards the gazebo and peered around the corner. Dad was pacing back and forth, his right hand rubbing his neck as if he was trying to work out a kink. "Some partner you turned out to be," he stated harshly. "Or is that the way you people normally operate? Don't you usually have back-up?"

"Of course it's not and yes, we do," Lee answered evenly, smoothing his hair back with his hand. "When we're working." He was either really miserable or really angry, I couldn't decide which.

"I assumed. . ."

"Well, you assumed wrong," he finished, his tone conveying an odd sense of calm that somehow seemed dangerous. I crept closer so that I could hear better, flattening myself against the house so they wouldn't see me. I didn't have to worry, though; they were both too engrossed in each other to notice me.

"Then just what were you doing out there?" Dad demanded, his eyes squinting the way he did when he was trying to figure out a puzzling point of law.

"You'll have to ask Amanda that question, Joe." Lee took a deep breath, pausing to exhale loudly before adding, "I'm not the one who can answer it for you."

They stared at each other in hostile silence, Dad frowning until a deep line appeared between his eyes, Lee biting his lip as if to force the words back into his mouth. Finally, Dad was the one who looked away, saying only, "I see."

"Joe. . ." Lee began, then suddenly stopped. I took a second to study him more closely. He had a funny expression on his face, the same look guys in school wore when the teacher was about to ask a question, and they hadn't read the assignment.

"Well," Dad finished, looking down at the white bench like he'd never seen it before, "Tell Amanda the boys send their love and we'll – they'll - be waiting for her to get home."

Lee nodded, brushing past my Dad and heading for his car. I'd crept out of there and headed back upstairs, trying to figure out what I'd just seen. No matter how hard I tried to understand, it didn't make any sense.

* * *

Phillip and I were happy to have Grandma home. Dad moved back to his apartment and his regular life, and we returned to ours. It was almost like Mom was away on one of her trips, and I could pretend that nothing bad had happened to her.

But it had. She'd almost died.

I could see how much it had affected Grandma. She really wasn't herself at all, especially for the first few days after she came home. I couldn't ever remember a time when she'd been so preoccupied; she hadn't once raised her voice to either one of us or reminded us to make our beds or pick up our room.

After a few days like that, I started to think that maybe Mom wasn't as okay as everybody kept saying. But if that were true, then Grandma wouldn't have been so short with her when she'd called the other night. She was always so protective of Mom, even when she only had a cold. The whole thing was very peculiar. Almost like they'd had a fight and were too stubborn to make up.

Although, Mom had seemed pretty cheerful when I'd talked to her. She'd sounded so much like her old self that I'd forgotten how upset I'd been for the last month. I'd told her all about my science fair project, tactfully omitting Carrie's part in it, and the new book I was reading for school. She'd promised to listen to the whole story when she came home tomorrow. When I'd hung up the phone, I couldn't wait to see her, even if it did mean that Lee would be there, too.

Grandma might have been distracted, but she was still cooking all my mom's favorite foods for her homecoming dinner. And I could tell by the way she'd fussed over the table that she was almost as anxious as I was to have Mom back. As if she, too, was hoping that nothing had changed.

Mom had been away one month and two days. After everything she'd been through, I kind of wondered if she would look different.

She didn't, though. Well, maybe she was a little thinner and moved a bit more slowly, but her smile was still the same. So was the big hug she gave to me and to Phillip as soon as she walked through the door.

"I missed you guys so much," she said, the tears welling up in her eyes, and I knew this was going to turn mushy. "And I think you've both grown a foot." She hugged us again and looked around in wonder, as if she was memorizing everything – me, Phillip, the house. And all the while, Grandma stood silently on the landing by the stairs, just watching.

My mother noticed that, too, and turned towards her kind of shyly. "Hi, Mother," she said in a quiet voice, almost like she was testing the waters, and held out her arms.

Grandma looked at her for a minute, then slowly smiled, coming down the stairs into her waiting embrace. "I'm glad you're home, darling," was all she said, holding on to Mom for dear life.

Then we were all talking a mile a minute, Mom telling us about California, Phillip going on and on about the spring dance, and Grandma saying she hoped the pot roast turned out okay because you couldn't trust the new butcher at the supermarket.

No one seemed to notice Lee standing quietly on the front step. That is, until Mom smiled at him and held out her hand. He grinned back then moved through the door, setting her suitcases by the stairs. He walked slowly over to her and closed his hand around hers, their fingers intertwining as she led him into the den. They sat down side by side on the couch, and Mom rested her head on his shoulder.

My brother immediately tried to entice him into shooting some hoops, but Grandma intervened, saying dinner was almost ready. So instead, Phillip regaled us all with the latest statistics from the school basketball team playoffs. To hear him tell it, he'd scored most of the points himself. I felt my smile begin to melt into a frown.

And dinner wasn't much better. If it wasn't Phillip, then it was Grandma, asking everyone if they wanted seconds and fussing over Mom, worrying that she was too tired or too cold.

"I'm fine, really, Mother," she said in exasperation, and I wondered why everyone just didn't leave her alone. She always hated it when people hovered over her.

"Don't let her tell you that, Dotty," Lee said, smiling at Mom again. "She's exhausted – she's just too stubborn to admit it."

I watched them with a scowl, wondering who'd appointed him her protector. Mom didn't seem to mind, though, and instead of protesting, she squeezed his leg under the table. I looked down at my plate, rearranging my peas between bites of pot roast. I didn't want to hurt Grandma's feelings, but suddenly I really wasn't very hungry.

"May I be excused?" I asked, wanting nothing more than to escape to my room.

"Are you okay, Jamie?" Mom asked, with typical concern. "You didn't eat much."

"Yeah, I'm fine," I answered hastily, already clearing my plate. "I have some homework to finish up."

Putting my plate in the sink, I ran up the stairs two at a time so I wouldn't have to listen to them discuss my eating habits. I lay on my bed, trying to decide what had made me so upset. The conversation from the kitchen drifted up the stairs, Mom complaining that she was well enough to help clean up and Grandma insisting that she sit down. Grandma must have won that battle, because everything became quiet. I could hear the sound of the basketball hitting the concrete outside, and I figured Phillip had finally conned Lee into that game. They seemed to get along so well, all of them – just like family. A new family. And I wondered exactly how I fit into the picture.

* * *

"Keep pushing!"

My brother was screaming his usual brand of encouragement in the background, but I blocked him out. I tried to dribble the ball with one hand and keep Lee off of me with the other, but he was guarding me pretty hard, and I was quickly running out of steam. Plus, it had rained that morning, and the basketball court near Lee's apartment was still wet, so I was a little nervous about my footing.

"Jamie, throw it – throw it," Phillip yelled again. I was suddenly so mad that I chucked the ball at Lee, aiming for his stomach. He deflected it with his arm at the last minute, but I had a feeling he knew I'd done it deliberately. I doubled over, putting my head down so I didn't have to look him in the eye.

"Nice," Phillip commented, walking over to me, his arms swinging like he wanted to take a punch - almost as badly as I wanted to take one at Lee.

"Sorry," I shot back. "I'm not Larry Byrd."

"I noticed," he returned sarcastically.

"Hey, hey, hey, c'mon," Lee interjected, trying to keep the peace. "It was a good try, what'ya want?"

"It was a bad pass," I replied angrily, "and this is a stupid game."

"So, are you gonna quit?" Phillip leaned in, glaring down at me. He was itching for a fight, but I thought I was pretty safe. I figured Mom wouldn't be too impressed with Lee's parenting skills if he let my brother pop me one.

"Hey, Chief, why don't you go get the ball, huh?" Lee said, patting him on the arm and pushing him in the general direction of the bushes where the ball had disappeared. "Go on."

Then he turned to me, bending over to try and look me in the eye. "Hey, Sport," he said, still a little winded by our game. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," I lied, wishing he would just go away.

Unfortunately, he didn't take the hint. "What are you so uptight with your brother for?" he asked, searching in vain for a way to fix things.

"I'm not uptight," I replied, refusing to give an inch. "I just hate doing everything he wants to do."

"Well, I thought you two wanted to shoot some hoops."

"Well, I know you did." I was really acting like a jerk, but I couldn't seem to stop myself.

"We don't have to play, you know," he shot back, his annoyance clearly apparent this time. I could tell he was finally beginning to get mad. Actually, the way I'd been behaving, I was surprised it had taken him this long.

"Well it's a little late for that now." It was a little late for a lot of things, I thought sadly.

Lee turned away then, and for some reason I couldn't explain, I felt even worse than I had before. My reaction puzzled me. I should have been happy; I'd wanted to tick the guy off, didn't I?

I sat down on the bench and watched Lee and Phillip play one-on-one for a while. He gave Lee a pretty good run for his money, and I thought sourly that my brother had become a pretty decent player. A much better player than I was. Maybe I should have taken Lee up on one of his offers to practice.

That thought depressed me as we all walked back to Lee's apartment. And being forced to listen to Phillip's stupid jokes certainly didn't help; jokes that for some reason Lee seemed to think were pretty funny. By the time we reached his floor, I was in a really foul mood.

"Mmm," Lee said as he opened his apartment door. "It smells like your mom's been cooking up some of that world class chili of hers."

"I could go for a BIG bowl of that," Phillip agreed enthusiastically.

"Yeah," Lee concurred, looking around for Mom. "Amanda?"

She didn't seem to be there.

"Uh, look," Lee said suddenly, "why don't you guys go clean up? The bathroom's down the hall.

Okay?"

We both nodded, heading down the hallway in strained silence. I still didn't feel like talking to Phillip, and he sure didn't want to speak to me. I could tell he was still pretty steamed.

"Listen, guys," Lee said when we reappeared a few minutes later. "A friend of mine is having some car trouble, and I'm going to go help him out."

"Okay," Phillip told him agreeably. " I can hold down the fort."

"I'll bet you can," Lee smiled back. Again I found my irrational jealousy at Lee's statement confusing. I mean - I couldn't stand the guy, right? So what did I care if he liked Phillip, anyway?

"Ah. . . the VCR's under the TV," Lee continued, "you've got tapes, movies, whatever you want. Okay? And, ah, let the answering machine take the calls."

"Okay. Take care." Phillip headed for the VCR, while I retrieved my book. Plopping down into the big chair, I retreated behind the pages. Lee came back into the room, and I could feel his eyes on me, but I didn't want to acknowledge him. For some strange reason, I felt like I wanted to cry, and I didn't want him to see.

"Hey, Jamie," he said kindly.

I looked up. I could tell he was worried about me. His eyes had the same expression as Dad's when he wanted to have a serious talk. That was the last thing I wanted.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Sure," I mumbled, burying my nose in my book again.

"You sure?"

"Sure," I repeated, glancing up at him, then back down just as quickly.

"Okay," I heard him say as he headed out the door.

"You're such a doofus," Phillip muttered as he put a tape in the VCR.

"Why don't you shut up?" I told him, refusing to take my eyes off the page. He finally obliged me, shifting his attention to the TV screen where Dirty Harry was busy telling everyone to make his day.

And me? I just kept right on reading. With any luck, I'd get through three more chapters before Lee got back.

* * *

"Hey," Phillip asked, looking up from his skateboard. Yesterday he'd finally started speaking to me again, and now I couldn't get him to stop. "How about we invite Mr. Stetson to the skateboard competition on Saturday?"

We were in the back yard preparing our boards for the big event. "He can have my ticket," I snarled, slamming the oil bottle back down on the table. I wished we could do just one thing without Phillip having to mention Lee Stetson.

"He's an all right guy," my brother returned, beginning to get angry all over again. "If you would just loosen up!"

"Look," I explained one more time, in plain terms that even a moron like Phillip could understand. "I don't like the guy. I'll NEVER like the guy, okay?"

"Come on," he said, throwing his wrench down on the table.

I was about to walk over and cram it down his throat when Mom's voice suddenly interrupted us.

"Okay, fellas," she began pleasantly, before stopping suddenly by the back door. "Your dinner's in the oven," she continued a little more slowly as she tried to figure out what we'd been fighting about. "And I'll probably be in the editing room all night. . ." She took a deep breath, coming up right beside me. "What's going on out here?"

"Nothing," I muttered, not wanting to meet her eye.

"Junior here's just jealous of Lee," Phillip volunteered with a suitably sour expression. "I'm going outside to practice." Standing up, he grabbed his skateboard and beat a hasty retreat, leaving me to face the music alone.

"Jamie," Mom said quietly, grabbing my hand. "Let's talk." She sat down by the picnic table, and I could tell that her patience with me had just about run out. She held both my hands in hers and looked me straight in the eye, posing the question I'd been trying to answer to ever since Christmas.

"You're jealous of Lee?"

I looked right back at her and raised my eyebrows in pained confusion, still unable to put a label to what I was feeling.

"Hey, look," she told me, kissing my hand as if that could make it better; the same way she'd always done when I was little. "You don't have any reason to be jealous of Lee. . . okay?"

"Yeah," I murmured, struggling to believe her.

"Look, when I was out in California," she continued, "it was knowing that you and Phillip loved me that helped me get through that. You know that, now come on." She reached up and brushed her fingers across my cheek, the way she'd done a thousand times before when she'd tucked me into bed at night or comforted me when I had a bad dream. It was simple gesture, but it made me feel good, secure. . . loved.

"I love you," she went on, echoing my thoughts, "just as much as I love Phillip or your Grandmother. . . or Lee."

"Sure," I answered, clinging to my animosity. "Whenever you're around."

"Oh, sweetheart," she said, spinning me around and pulling me down next to her. "I know, I know." And it suddenly occurred to me that maybe she felt just as confused as I did – needing to be at work with Lee but at the same time needing to be home with us, too.

I heard her take a breath, and I suddenly realized something. She loved Lee Stetson. It was the first time she'd actually said those words to me out loud. She seemed so sad, sitting there talking to me so seriously. Like one adult to another. I began to feel kind of bad that I'd acted like such a jerk to someone she really cared about.

"Oh, gosh," she said, resting her cheek against my head. "You know, one day, you're gonna grow up and you're gonna fall in love. Does that mean you're gonna stop loving me?"

"No," I answered, thinking that it was a pretty stupid question. After all, she was my mother. No one could take her place. That's part of the reason I'd been so upset – I was scared of losing her.

"No?" she asked again in a teasing voice.

"No," I repeated in the same manner.

"Oh," she kidded, "then you understand."

"Yeah." At least, I was starting to.

"You understand that just because you love someone new doesn't mean you stop loving the people you already love, does it? Well, that means I still love you."

"Yes."

"And you know that."

"Yes."

"So you feel better." She leaned over and gave me a kiss.

"Yes," I answered again, and suddenly I really did feel better - for the first time in a long time.

"I love you. Now come here," she ordered, turning me around to face her, "And give me a hug."

I let myself be pulled into the comfort of her arms. Even though I would never admit it out loud, it felt good to have her hold me, just like she did when I was a little boy.

"I really do love you," she told me again, pulling me even closer.

"I love you, too," I replied, and I realized it was the first time I'd said that to her since her accident. Maybe deep down I'd been angrier than I'd wanted to admit; and jealous, too. And worried that my life was changing too fast. It was a lot to think about.

"All right. Then everything's okay." I felt her give me a gentle pat on the back. That same little gesture that had always said everything between us was fine.

"Yes," I admitted, feeling like a great weight had suddenly been lifted off my chest. I could actually breathe again.

"All right. Then go out there and teach your brother a lesson." She handed me my board. "Go ahead – go get 'em!"

I smiled and headed off to find Phillip. Maybe she was right after all. Maybe things really were okay. My mother did still love me; that hadn't changed. So maybe the very least I could do for her was to give Lee a chance.

* * *

Things didn't quite get back to normal after that, but they did get better. Mom was almost back at work full-time, Phillip was all caught up in his 8^th grade graduation activities and even that stupid Nancy Crawford seemed to have lost interest in tormenting me.

And I had a new hobby - photography. Lee had loaned me a really neat camera after we'd invited him to the skateboard competition. I took one look through it, and the whole world suddenly appeared different. It wasn't an unhappy place any longer where I didn't fit in; it was anything I wanted to make it through the frame of my lens.

Lee didn't seem to bother me as much, either. Dad had been kind of busy with work and his wedding plans, and I started to like having another guy around. Especially after Lee had admitted he didn't have a clue how pictures actually ended up on film. It was comforting to realize that even someone as cool as Lee Stetson didn't know everything. I'd probably never have as much in common with him as I did with Carrie, but I'd finally come to the conclusion that Philip might just have a point after all. Maybe Lee really was an okay guy.

Of course, once I'd made up my mind to try and like him, I started to worry that he might not be around too long. Most guys didn't stay. I mean, if my own father had left us, why on earth would Lee stick around?

And Mom and Lee suddenly seemed to be fighting a lot. Like they were tonight. Sometimes I really couldn't figure them out. This latest argument appeared to have something to do with work. Or at least that's what I surmised from my hiding place at the top of the stairs. Lee seemed worried about some new documentary Mom was working on without him about. . . bees? That's what it sounded like to me, anyway. All I could hear was 'I don't like you working with bee' and something about a sting before Mom cut him off. She sounded really steamed, and I almost felt sorry for Lee. He seemed genuinely worried about her. Then they both said something that I couldn't hear, and he left abruptly, slamming the front door behind him. In my rush to hide again, I almost fell down the stairs. Luckily for me, Lee had been too furious to notice.

"Don't say it, Mother," came Mom's equally angry voice. "I'm not in the mood tonight."

The banging door must have startled Grandma, too. She'd been in the dining room, working on her flight simulation. Nothing short of World War III could usually drag her away from that screen. She was absolutely determined to get her pilot's license. Personally, I just didn't see it happening in my lifetime.

"I wasn't going to say anything at all," I heard her tell Mom in a prickly voice. I knew she didn't mean it. Grandma always said she had nothing to say just before she gave you an earful of whatever was on her mind.

This time was no exception. She lowered her voice, and I couldn't quite catch what she was saying, so I scooted down a few steps. All I caught was the last line.

". . .And I really don't understand you, Missy."

Mom was in for it now. When Grandma used that name, she really meant business. I strained to hear more.

"Or this little game you're playing," Grandma finished crossly.

"Mother, I'm not playing any game," Mom stated, sounding almost as tense as Grandma. "Lee and I just had an argument. It happens all the time, believe me. No one can drive me crazier than he can."

"Uh, huh."

"You're doing it again, Mother." She sighed loudly, a signal that she was at the end of her rope. This was getting pretty interesting. Too bad Phillip had a late practice tonight. He'd be really mad that he missed this.

"Doing what?" Grandma inquired and I could almost picture her arms folded across her chest as she spoke.

"That little nod of the head always followed by that annoying 'uh-huh'. You've been doing it ever since I got back from California. If you have something to say to me, I really wish you'd just come out and say it."

"Amanda, you don't seem to have anything to say to me, so what could I possibly have to say to you?"

"Mother. . ."

"I can see there's no point in discussing this if you don't want to talk."

"Really, there's nothing to talk about." Mom's shoes made a clicking noise on the floor, which meant she'd started to pace. She must be really bothered by this. She hadn't done that since last fall when Phillip and I broke the kitchen window. I listened carefully as she started to speak again in her best 'this is final' tone.

"Lee and I had a disagreement about work. It's not the first time, and it certainly won't be the last. End of story."

"Uh-huh."

"Mother, really, it's nothing. He just ended up with some unexpected time off, and now he's at loose ends. He doesn't like me to work solo."

"Uh-huh."

"Ahhhhg," I heard her yell in frustration. "I'm too tired to do this right now. I'm going to bed. Unlike Lee, I have to be at work early tomorrow."

Mom headed in my direction, and I ran upstairs again, scrambling to get out of sight before she caught me. There was no telling what she'd do if she spotted me eavesdropping. This spying business was dangerous.

* * *

"So," Lee said to us as Phillip and I sprawled comfortably on the couch, "would you guys like to come?"

Mom was perched on the arm of Lee's chair. I watched as she rubbed his shoulder affectionately, last night's anger apparently forgotten. I was glad that they seemed to have patched up their argument.

"Four days in the woods?" my brother repeated, his excitement already showing. "You even have to ask?"

A friend had offered Lee the use of his cabin, and he was anxious to get away for a few days. Taking a vacation in town was driving him crazy, he told us, and if he stayed here any longer, he'd only end up working anyway. And for some reason, he didn't want to go into the office.

"It's a matter of principle," I'd overheard him tell Mom before dinner. "He gave me two weeks off, and I'll be damned if I don't take them. I refuse to give that man the satisfaction."

"Yeah, even if it kills you," came Mom's teasing reply.

Lee cleared his throat as he turned to me expectantly. "So, Jamie," he said as he ran his hand through his hair, "what about you?"

"Um," I began, chewing on my lip as I thought it over. I certainly wouldn't mind missing two days of school; I just kinda wished Mom would be there, too. She'd really wanted to come, but she'd already missed so much work because of her accident that she couldn't afford to take any more time off. Besides, she had a project to finish over the weekend. Lee didn't seem too pleased about that, either, but apparently they'd arrived at this compromise.

"Okay," I said, and Mom rewarded me with a relieved smile. I could tell how badly she wanted all of us to spend time together. If she was actually willing to let us skip school to accomplish that, then who was I to argue? Besides, there'd be no living with Phillip if I said no.

We set out together on Friday morning. The cabin was in the Shenandoah Valley, not too far away, but the drive seemed much longer than usual because we were trapped in the car with Phillip. He spent most of the trip whining about Nancy Crawford. She'd dumped him a few days ago for a high school sophomore, and he'd been mooning around ever since. I felt bad for my brother, but it was hardly the tragedy he was making it out to be. I figured his ego was probably suffering more than his heart.

Lee seemed to agree, and he good-naturedly told Phillip he was much too young to settle for just one girl.

"Yeah, you're right about that," Phillip moaned. "From now on, I'm playing the field. And they can all forget about sharing my stuff. I let Nancy borrow my new skateboard, and now she refuses to give it back. She said it was a gift and she should be able to keep it. Girls suck."

"Not all of them," Lee laughed. "But as a general rule, Chief, it's a good idea not to loan out your stuff unless you're pretty sure the relationship is a permanent thing." He was having a pretty hard time trying to hide his grin as he added, "I admit that's a lesson I learned the hard way myself."

"Yeah," Phillip commiserated, "Me, too. I really liked that skateboard."

"You loaned Mom your 'Vette this weekend," I said in a quiet voice.

"Well," Lee said, clearing his throat nervously, "it would have been a pretty tight fit in the Corvette – the three of us and all our stuff."

"I guess so," I agreed, but I had a feeling there was more significance to that gesture than he was willing to acknowledge. Mom and Lee seemed to swap cars a lot lately; it didn't seem to have anything to do with any trip.

"I think this is our turnoff," Lee stated, effectively changing the subject before I could press it further. It was kind of funny to see him so flustered. This was turning into a pretty interesting weekend after all.

It was certainly more fun than I'd originally imagined. The cabin itself was really nice, with two bedrooms, a small kitchen and a screened porch on the back. Lee said it belonged to a friend who spent a lot of time out of the country. He'd offered to let him use it last fall, but he hadn't been able to take him up on it. There were some great hiking trails and plenty of neat stuff to photograph. I'd brought along four rolls of film, and by the end of the first day, I'd shot almost all of them. Lee said that at the rate I was going, we'd have to make a run into town for more film tomorrow.

We didn't, though, because it rained most of our second day and we were stuck inside. When we got tired of playing the usual board games, Lee offered to teach us poker. He'd learned himself when he was younger than we were, he told us, from an old corporal on an air base in northern Michigan where his uncle had been stationed. All the kids there used to play. It sounded exciting to me, but Lee denied it.

"It was only a way to pass the time," he told us, smiling as he dealt another hand. "There just wasn't much else to do there during the winter. The base was in a very small town, and they rolled the sidewalks up every night at 8:00."

That might have been the case, but I really liked the game. For the first time, I was actually better at something than my older brother. "This is really fun," I said, enthusiastically cleaning out the remainder of Phillip's matches. Lee had refused to let us play for real money.

"Sometimes it's more fun that way," he joked when I grumbled about how rich I could have been. "I can remember one night in particular when the stakes got pretty interesting. My buddy and I had conned some Colonel's daughter into playing with us and. . ." He laughed suddenly, then quickly changed the subject, saying it was a story for another time.

"Aw, c'mon, Lee," Phillip begged, "I'm almost in high school."

"Well, when you graduate, then we'll talk." He laughed again, putting the cards away. "Anyway, it's late. If we're going to go hiking again tomorrow morning, we'd all better hit the sack."

Phillip grudgingly agreed and we both headed off to bed. I thought about what Lee had said as I brushed my teeth. He seemed to take it as a matter of course that he would be around by the time we graduated from high school. It almost seemed like a promise. If he'd said that a month ago, it would have really disturbed me, but now. . .

Now I would be more upset if he left than if he stayed. I didn't know if that was good or bad. It scared me a little that I cared so much. In some ways, it had been easier when I'd hated him. When did life suddenly become so complicated?

* * *

"Hey, Jamie. . ." Phillip yelled for the umpteenth time.

"What now?" I reluctantly answered. Phillip was driving me crazy. I'd been trying to read the last chapter of my book for the past half hour, but his constant interruptions weren't making it easy.

"I'm bored," he complained. "Want to play a game?"

"I've got to finish my assignment for school," I explained again. "You should actually try it some time."

"Why would I want to do that?" He flopped into the big overstuffed chair, his legs dangling over the arm. "It's almost May; only one more month and I'm out of there."

"Then you should have gone into town with Lee."

"Nah," he said, drumming his foot absently against the side of the chair in that way he had that really drove me crazy. "I didn't want to get in the way."

Phillip may have had a low boredom threshold, but I guess I couldn't fault his sensitivity. Lee had left about an hour ago, supposedly to pick up some popcorn and stuff for after dinner. But Phillip and I both knew the real reason for trip. The general store had the only telephone in town; he'd just wanted to check in with Mom. Lee may have thought he was fooling us, but I'd seen the way he kept glancing at his watch. It was obvious that he really wanted to talk to her.

"Aw, c'mon," Phillip cajoled again, "you can do that any time. Let's have some fun."

"All right," I sighed, knowing he'd never stop pestering me if I didn't agree. "But you find the game and set it up." That would give me just enough time to finish. Phillip was unbelievably slow when it came to selecting a game to play.

I was just closing the book when I heard him. "Hey, Jamie," he called, excitement creeping into his voice. "Look at this."

"Where are you?" I asked. He didn't sound like he was in our room.

"In here," he yelled again, and I followed his voice to the other bedroom.

"What are you doing?" I asked nervously. "This is Lee's room, you shouldn't be in here."

"Yeah, but look at all the neat stuff in his closet." He stretched to his full height, struggling to reach the stack of games that were piled on the top shelf. They were covered with a thick layer of dust, as if they'd been forgotten for some time. "Come on," he urged, "I'll give you a boost, and you can get them down."

"I don't know, Phillip," I told him uncertainly. "Lee told us to stay out of here."

"Don't be such a geek," he taunted. "We're not going to hurt anything, I just want to get a look at those games. But if you don't want to. . ." He looked me straight in the eye. "Gee, Zorba, no wonder the guys keep calling you that nickname."

I glared back at him, unable to let the challenge pass. "Okay, okay. But then we've gotta get out of here."

He nodded, interlacing his hands as I stepped into them. "Just a little higher," I told him as I strained to reach the top.

"Hurry up," Phillip groaned through gritted teeth.

"I've almost got it." My hands closed around the lowest box just as Phillip let go. We both ended up in a heap on the floor, the entire contents of the closet shelf crashing down on top of us.

"Now you've done it," Phillip grumbled, staring at the jumble of boards and game pieces.

"Me?" I responded angrily. "You're the one who let go."

He looked at me in embarrassment. "Sorry," he mumbled apologetically. "I guess you were heavier than I thought."

'Well, come on, lets clean up this mess."

We scrambled around on hands and knees, cramming the stuff back into their boxes. I was just putting the last cover on when Phillip called out in excitement, "Hey, Jamie, look at this!"

He held his find gingerly by the handle, letting it dangle from his extended arm. It was a gun.

"Geez, Phillip, put that down. Where'd you find it, anyway?"

"It must have been on the shelf, with the other boxes," he replied, a look of awe on his face. "Do you think it's Lee's?"

"Well, if it is, he'll kill you for going through his stuff."

Phillip shrugged. "Here, hold it while I check and see if it had a box or something."

Before I could object, Phillip thrust the gun into my hand. "What do you think Lee's doing with a gun?" Phillip wondered, raising his eyebrows at me before turning his attention to the back of the closet.

"I haven't got a clue," I said, inspecting the small object with my eyes. It was heavier than I thought and felt uncomfortably cold in my hand. "Why don't you ask him?"

"Why don't you ask me what?" The sound of Lee's voice took us both by surprise; we'd been so engrossed in Phillip's 'find' that we hadn't even heard him come in.

"It's nothing," I mumbled, turning in an attempt to hide our discovery.

It only took a second for Lee to figure out what was going on. I watched his expression slowly change from puzzlement to worry and, finally, anger. "Give it to me, Jamie," he said in a tone that left no room for discussion. I immediately obeyed, unable to meet Lee's eye as Phillip and I both scrambled to our feet.

Lee pressed something, releasing a piece about six inches long, then he cautiously looked inside. I watched his look turn to relief. "At least Crump wasn't stupid enough to leave it loaded," he muttered, still frowning as he deftly disassembled the gun. He squatted down, placing the pieces back into the box that lay upside down in the corner. Then he slowly rose and looked down at us, his hands folded across his chest. I suddenly realized that he was really tall.

"What did you two think you were doing with that?" he said, his anger clearly evident.

"We. . . I, uh, was just looking for a game to play," Phillip stammered. I don't think I'd ever seen him look so scared. I suddenly wished I was at school or at home. . . anywhere but here.

"I specifically told you to stay out of here, didn't I?" Lee asked.

We both nodded numbly.

"Do you two have any idea how stupid that was? You could have been hurt or worse – you could have ended up hurting each other."

"It wasn't loaded, you said so," Phillip replied, his voice little more than a whisper, while I stood by, unable to utter a sound.

"But you didn't know that, did you?"

"No. I'm really sorry, Lee. We. . .I. . . didn't mean to snoop. . . Jamie didn't want to, I was the one who made him."

Lee started say something, then suddenly stopped. He took a slow, deep breath and ran his hand roughly through his hair before exhaling loudly. "C'mon, fellas, let's sit down," he told us quietly. "I need to talk to you."

We sat on the edge of the bed and Lee pulled up a chair and sat across from us. "This is not a toy," he said, holding the box out so we could see the gun. "I'm not going to sit here and preach to you about it, because I'm sure you both knew better than to touch it." His eyes narrowed a bit. "It's a serious weapon that can cause serious consequences. You'd know that if you'd ever seen someone shot."

"Like Mom," I said quietly. I couldn't imagine how it must have felt to witness something like that. I wondered uneasily if there had been a lot of blood. I didn't want to think about my mom, hurt like that – like people you see on TV. It was just too scary to think about.

"Yeah," he said finally, taking another deep breath. "Like your mom." Lee's eyes had a faraway look and I suddenly realized he must have felt like that, too. He stared at the floor for a minute, carefully studying the floorboards.

"Look, guys," he told us in a serious voice, "I can understand you're being curious and not stopping to think. Believe me, I was your age once, and I did a lot of stupid things myself. But firearms are nothing to fool around with, even out of curiosity. Do you both understand?"

We nodded our assent.

"Okay. Now, to answer the question you're both dying to ask, no, this gun is not mine. It belongs to my friend Al. He's an, um, collector, and this is a collector's piece."

"How can you tell?" I inquired, Lee's reaction to this mishap making me feel bolder.

"It's a Colt 1911 .45 ACP," Lee said quickly. "It was an early government model. This particular one was manufactured in 1950." He pointed to some writing on the front of the gun. "You can see the production series number stamped on the barrel. When the clip is out and the safety is engaged, then you can assume it's empty. But," he added sternly, "You still have to look to make sure there isn't a bullet left in the magazine. Right in here." He showed us quickly before he closed the lid on the box. "Now you don't have to be curious. Or ever touch this again."

"You sure know a lot about guns," Phillip said admiringly.

"Yeah, well, my, um, uncle was a collector, too," he finished, a funny half smile on his face. He suddenly grew silent, as if he was lost for a minute in some private memory. "The truth of the matter is," he confessed, "he caught me doing pretty much the same thing when I was a little younger than you, Jamie."

"Is that when he taught you all that?" I asked curiously.

"Not exactly," Lee said grimly. "My uncle had other ways of making a point, ones that didn't allow for sitting comfortably when he was finished." He exhaled loudly. "Enough said on this subject. How about a quick game before dinner?"

We must have looked confused, because he added with a grin, "Wasn't that what you guys were looking for in here?"

"Well, yeah," Phillip answered, not quite daring to hope he'd gotten off that easily. "But. . . that's all you're going to do to us?"

"Well, I figure you both know how dumb it was to touch that gun," Lee said in an even voice, replacing the box on the top shelf of the closet. "And that nothing like that will ever happen again, right?"

We both readily agreed that it wouldn't.

"Besides," he continued, "when you tell your mother about this, she'll be sure to punish you enough for both of us."

"Oh, no," Phillip groaned, "That's even worse. Mom really hates guns."

I was inclined to agree. "Yeah," I said glumly. "She'll kill us."

"I know," Lee grinned. "But don't worry – you won't be alone. She'll probably kill me too, for letting you find it. Come on, let's play that game before dinner. Loser has to tell her."

* * *

I couldn't seem to sleep that night. I watched Phillip in the bunk across from me, dead to the world, and I wondered again how he could do it. Didn't anything ever bother him? Maybe he was just better at hiding it.

Lee didn't seem to be able having any better luck sleeping than I was. I'd heard him roaming around restlessly in the other room earlier. I could see the light still burning, so I knew he was awake. I tossed and turned a few times, trying to decide what to do, before making up my mind. Taking a deep breath, I headed out to join him.

"Jamie?" he asked, surprised. He was sitting in the big chair Phillip had occupied earlier, reading some kind of report that he hastily slipped beneath the newspaper.

"I couldn't sleep," I said, quietly watching him as I sat down on the sofa.

"Neither could I," he admitted. "So I thought I'd catch up on some work."

"Reading always makes me tired, too," I said, grabbing my book from the end table. We sat across from each other, both working for a while in companionable silence. The wind had picked up again; I could hear the tree branches scraping against the roof. I tried to concentrate, but it wasn't any use. I finally gave up, closing the covers of the book, and looked up to find Lee watching me.

"Hey, how about some hot chocolate?" he asked before I had a chance to say anything.

"Yeah, sure," I replied, a little surprised by the offer. Somehow I didn't quite see Lee Stetson as a hot chocolate kind of guy.

"Your mother converted me," he laughed, and I realized my face had betrayed my thoughts again. I really needed to try and do something about that. It wasn't too cool when everyone could tell exactly what you were thinking.

I never knew what was going on in Lee's head, I thought solemnly as he returned a few minutes later with two mugs. The night was kind of cool for the end of April and it really hit the spot. We sat in silence for a while, just the two of us, drinking our hot chocolate, each of us busy with our own thoughts. I watched as he looked around the room, his gaze finally settling on the camera I'd left on the table by the window. I caught his eye, and he smiled.

"So, did you get all the pictures you wanted?" he asked, his thumb rubbing across the smooth porcelain mug.

"Almost," I answered, setting my own mug down on the small coffee table. I walked over and picked up the camera. "I'm still having some trouble getting some of the features to work properly. Do you know how this works?" I handed it to him and waited as he looked through the lens, fiddling with the shutter control a few times.

"Actually, I haven't got a clue. Your pictures are already much better than mine," he laughed. "Tell you what – I have a friend who's a photo journalist. How about if I see if we can spend an afternoon with him? He'd be able to help you more than I can."

"That sounds really neat. Do you think he'd do it?"

"I'm sure he would. Bart's a great guy. His wife is in the same business. Actually, they're the ones who helped me pick out this camera last month."

I looked at him in confusion. Lee had told me the camera had been sitting around gathering dust for a long time. He must have realized his mistake, because he suddenly became extraordinarily interested in the rim of his cocoa mug.

"You went out and bought a camera just so you could loan it to me?" I asked quietly.

"Well, um, yeah," he stammered, smiling contritely. "I thought it might be something you'd be interested in. And I know how your mother feels about expensive gifts, so. . ." He shrugged his shoulders, looking away in embarrassment.

I couldn't believe he'd cared enough to go to all that trouble. Especially after the way I'd treated him. "Thanks," I told him, shyly returning his smile. "I appreciate it."

He nodded, and I suddenly found the courage to say what had been on my mind all night. "Lee. . . I'm really sorry about this afternoon." It felt good to get that off my chest and I let out a deep sigh of relief.

"I know you are, Jamie," he told me kindly. He hesitated a minute, then continued. "It just really scared me, thinking about what could have happened if. . . well, let's just say I'm glad it turned out the way it did."

"We shouldn't have been in there after you asked us not to," I said in a low voice. "And I should have just told Phillip no when he handed me the gun. It's just that when he called me a geek, like Tommy did that day at school. . ." I took a deep breath. "I probably shouldn't have slugged Tommy that day, either, it's just that he made me so mad. . ."

"I know. Sometimes it seems like punching someone will make you feel better, but it really doesn't solve anything, does it?"

"No, it doesn't."

He smiled compassionately. "It's hard to do the right thing, especially when you're worried about what other people will think of you," he told me, and I could tell he understood exactly what I'd been feeling. "But you should never be ashamed of standing up for what you believe in. Even if everyone else tells you it's wrong. Try to remember that next time."

"I will," I promised. I watched thoughtfully as he finished his drink. "Lee, if you want, I'll tell Mom that this wasn't your fault. I wouldn't want her to be mad at you for something stupid we did, or not let us come again."

He looked at me with a strange expression, and I added hastily, "I mean, if you wanted to invite us again."

"Of course I want to," he said, a funny inflection in his voice. He seemed genuinely affected by what I'd said. "I'm glad you had a good time. I wasn't too sure if you'd want to come."

"I probably wouldn't have a couple of months ago," I admitted. If he was going to be honest with me, then I felt I should return the favor. "But things are kind of different now."

He smiled when I said that, and I could tell he'd sensed a change in our relationship, too. Maybe all of this had been just as tough for him, I thought suddenly. Maybe change wasn't easy, no matter how old you were.

"Lee," I asked abruptly, "Are you and Mom. . ." I wavered, wanting to ask the question, but afraid to at the same time. He didn't press me to finish, merely waited patiently until I was ready. "Do you think you and Mom will get married?"

He looked at me thoughtfully. "Would it bother you if we did?"

"I asked you first," I grinned, and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Adults always turned things around on you when they were trying to avoid a straight answer. I watched him struggle to find the appropriate words. "Tell me the truth, please," I added in a serious voice.

I watched his face grow equally solemn. "There's nothing I'd like better than to be an official part of your family," he said finally. "Especially if I had your blessing. Yours and Phillip's."

I traced the box-like patterns of the plaid sofa with my finger, frowning slightly while I tried to decide how that made me feel. Lee would probably be a pretty decent stepfather; he'd more than proved that today.

"So," he said after a few minutes of silence between us. "I answered your question; how about you answer mine?"

I looked up and encountered his eye. I recognized the look on his face instantly. I felt the same way at school when the teacher handed back a test. I knew there was nothing I could do to change the grade, but I was apprehensive anyway. In a minute I would have it in my hands; in a minute I would know. . .

"It wouldn't bother me," I said at last, suddenly feeling really tired. I leaned back into the sofa cushions. "Actually, it could be kind of cool. Sometimes I think Mom is lonely."

Lee looked over at me, watching as I tossed the small throw pillow into the air a few times. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah," I declared knowingly. "She never says anything, but she gets this funny look on her face. It's never there when you're around." He was quiet for a minute, that same look spreading across his features. "Maybe you should ask her," I told him softly.

"Maybe I should at that," he murmured, frowning a little. "When the time is right." He cleared his throat, turning to me with a questioning look. "But right now, how about if we keep this just between us?"

"Okay," I replied, smiling at the prospect of a secret. For once, I'd know something Phillip didn't.

"Hey, Lee," I said, as a sudden thought occurred to me. "If you and Mom got married, would we have to move?"

"I don't know," he said, a frown forming as he considered the question. He rubbed his fingers absently across his forehead. "When I was a kid and my uncle was dragging me all over the world, I always thought it would be great to have a place of my own," he confided. "You know, with some room to have horses and. . ." He looked over at me. "I know how hard it can be to move. I guess you guys wouldn't want to leave all your friends, huh?"

It would certainly be strange to have a different house, a different room. We'd lived on Maplewood Drive for as long as I could remember. But. . . that stupid 'Zorba the Geek' nickname suddenly flashed into my head. It might be equally nice to go to a school where no one had ever heard of my older brother - or any of his stupid friends. "I don't know about Phillip," I said cautiously, "But maybe I wouldn't mind."

"Well, we can discuss it," Lee promised, "but first things first. I really need to talk to your mother." He stood up and stretched, glancing over his shoulder at the clock by the fireplace. "And we should get some sleep. It's later than I thought."

"Okay," I agreed, picking up our mugs and taking them to the kitchen. I could hear Lee straightening up in the living room and switching off the lights. I headed down the short hall to my room, turning back to look at him one last time. My glasses slid down my nose and I pushed them back up again.

"Goodnight, Lee," I told him, adjusting them once again. I really needed to get those stupid frames fixed. Better yet, I should just get contacts. Mom seemed to think I was too young, but maybe I could get Lee to talk to her. I'd ask him about it tomorrow.

I headed off to bed with a grin, Lee's 'goodnight' echoing in my ears.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

To be concluded in Part Four by … "Amanda"