Author's Notes: End of October, 1960. *Angst alert.* Next part is already in progress; I'll post soon.

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This campus is absolutely gorgeous. I've been pretty down all week since I left Chicago, but as soon as I turned into campus, I felt considerably better. According to my resident advisor, my roommate decided not to come at the last minute. How could you not want to come here? It's amazing. Oh well. I prefer having my own room anyway.

It didn't take very long to move my things into the room and get everything straightened out. The door was open while I hung up the Michigan pennant, and I got several hisses from the hallway. They can sit on it for all I care. They don't know that my best friend is at Michigan right now. He's already been in class for a week, and there was a letter waiting for me when I got here.

The letter is tucked in with two books for my theology class and my Roman history text, and I'm walking into town to get dinner and get to know the area a little better. I think I've already found my place. It's a gas station almost all the way to St. Mary's. There's no one in the place save the soda jerk, to whom I nod my greetings as I take a seat in a booth in the corner.

He brings me a coke after I order it, though I hardly notice as I'm completely absorbed in Leo's letter. He's in the honors dormitory at Michigan. There's a curfew and lots of stuffy regulations. It's funny for Leo to complain about rules and curfew. The only reason curfew is a problem for him is his habit of late night walks. He likes to walk and think at the most ungodly hours. I'm sure he'll find a way around his curfew. Leo's not as innocent as most adults assume him to be. All manners, that one.

He's taking physics, which he hates, more Latin, some history, and an English literature class. Right now he's planning on a sociology major and going straight to law school at Harvard. How he'll pay for Harvard, I have no clue. I know he'll do it though, if that's what he really wants. Leo will be great in a sociology major. He's always been interested in what makes people work. And he'll be a hell of a lawyer. I can hardly wait to see him in action. Probably a litigator. He'll be great.

Then there's me. Father Jed. Doesn't have much of a ring to it. I was in the bookstore earlier flipping through an economics text, and I could have drooled. I'm not going to be able to resist taking a few of those courses. But I really, honestly feel like I should be a priest. I feel like that's where I'd do the most good for society.

I have no idea. Leo doesn't give me the entire semester before I change my mind.



It's getting closer to dinner time, but I'm not really hungry. I've been reading up on the Visigoths, and I've had at least three cokes. There are more people in the room now, and the soda jerk is in his element. Someone's got the jukebox playing, and I've had enough of this gas station for tonight. I leave some change on the table and gather up my books. I guess I'm sort of in a daze, because I back up and into a girl, causing her to spill soda all over herself. It surprises me so much that I drop my books all over the floor.

I feel myself go bright red and I turn around. She's looking down, trying to wipe soda off of her shirt.

"Nice going, jackass," she mutters. This causes me to smile. She's obviously a St. Mary's student, and I've never heard a good Catholic girl swear. Although, I suppose I've never really talked to any Catholic girls, save my mother and Mrs. Landingham. I've never really talked to girls at all. That's more Leo's department.

"I'm really sorry," I say, and I'm surprised at my voice. I don't normally talk to girls. This is weird.

And then she looks up. My confidence has suddenly fled.

"Sorry isn't going to fix my blouse, is it?"

I don't know what to say. I bend down and gather up my books. Think, Jed.

"I'm really sorry," I say again as I try to stand up, and bump my head on the table. Jesus. She laughs a little bit, though I don't think she meant to. This makes me feel a little bit better. "Can I buy you another soda?"

Where did that come from? What am I doing?

A large fellow who I imagine is on our football team turns around and looks at me.

"I'll get you another soda, Abbey," he says. She smiles at me and turns back to the guy.

I just fell in love and had my heart broken in forty-five seconds.

I get back to the dorm and drop my books haphazardly onto the bed. Then I sit down at my desk and begin a letter to Leo. Except I can't write Leo. All I can write is Abbey.

I lean back in my chair and push my books around to find Leo's letter again. I can't find it. I get out of my chair and sit down on the bed, flip through all of my books, and still can't find it. I must have dropped it on the way home.

I suddenly feel exhausted and lay back on my bed. I have no desire to do anything but close my eyes and picture that girl from the gas station diner. I've never seen a girl like her. Maybe I just haven't been paying attention.

When I finally look up, it's dark outside. I need to have a smoke and then I'll sit down and write to Leo all about my forty-five second tale of heartbreak. There are some guys in the hallway playing poker, and ask me to sit down and play. I tell them I'm going out for a smoke and I'll be back.

I could get used to this Indiana weather. It's a little warmer here at night than it is in Manchester, and I'm enjoying the feel of the grass under my bare feet. I walk until I find the spot on the lawn farthest from any building, then I sit down on the grass and light my cigar. I wonder if faculty members look down on smoking. I assume my professors will have more to say about it than others, what with my professors being men of the cloth and all.

I lay back on the grass and look up at the stars. I wonder if Leo's looking at these same stars right now. The smoke floats slowly above me, and I close my eyes and think about us cavorting around the city all summer. And then the girl from the diner is back in my mind. I open my eyes, and she's still there. I close them, and open them again.

"Are you Jed Bartlet?"

She's standing right there. She's standing right here, on the lawn at Notre Dame.

"What?" I can't stop myself, it's the first thing out of my mouth. What happened to Jed Bartlet, master conversationalist?

"Are you Jed Bartlet?" She repeats herself, sort of smirking down at me. I sit up.

"Yes." Jed! Come on! "It's nice to meet you," I add, holding my hand out to her. She shakes it and sits down on the grass next to me.

"You left this in the diner," she says, and hands me an envelope. Leo's letter. I grin.

"Oh, wow. Thanks a lot," I say. And I realize the cigar is still hanging out of my mouth.

"I'm Abbey. Abbey Garrett. I'm a freshman at St. Mary's," she says. Is she starting a conversation with me?

"I'm Jed Bartlet," I say.

"I know," she says, and the smirk grows into a smile.

"Right," I sigh. This is not going well at all. "I'm a freshman, too."

"Are you from New England? You sound like it," she asks. Be still my heart.

"Yes. New Hampshire. Manchester," I say. I know, at some point in my life, I was able to talk in complete sentences.

"I'm from Boston. Dorchester, really."

"I spent all summer in Boston. I worked in the Kennedy office," I reply. There you go, Jed. A whole sentence. Leo would be in hysterics right now.

"You worked in the Kennedy office? On salary?" She looks almost impressed, but not quite.

"Oh, well, no. My friend Leo and I volunteered all summer. We hung signs, made phone calls, stuffed envelopes. Stuff like that. Jack's gonna be the first Catholic president. We felt like we needed to contribute to that victory," I say. "We lived in an apartment above Landingham's Shoes. We did stocking for Mr. Landingham and he let us have the apartment."

"You lived by yourself all summer in Boston?"

"Yeah," I reply, and take another puff of my cigar. Then I realize she might not appreciate the cigar smoke. "Sorry. Does the smoke bother you?"

She takes the cigar out of my hand and takes a puff. My mouth must be hanging wide open, because she's laughing at me again.

"No, it doesn't bother me at all, Jed," she says.

I'm in love.

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

I've been at Michigan now for almost three weeks. Classes are going fine, except for physics, which regularly reduces me to tears. I've met a couple of guys that live on the hall, and we've been out and tossed a football around. They're nice enough guys I suppose; I just feel like I haven't had an intelligent conversation since the last time I saw Jed.

It's still relatively warm here during the day, so I don't mind walking to and from my Latin class in the morning. A couple more weeks, however, and it's going to be a lot harder to make myself get out of bed. The class is interesting, as most of my other classes are. There's a law student here from Harvard this semester observing one of my sociology professors, and he seemed like a good guy. I'll have to get to know him better, find out what Harvard's like. Ask him how he's paying for it. I think the professor said his name was Lyman.

I get back to my dorm before lunch to check the mail. Finally, a letter from Jed. I thought he'd never write.

Leo,

First of all, I don't see how you can't like physics! Of all your courses, I would think you'd like physics better than most anything else. We'll just chalk your lack of physics skill up to your being a student at Michigan and not Notre Dame. I hear they're pretty slack about admissions up there at Michigan. Especially in the Pre-Law department.

My roommate didn't show. There's an empty bunk for you during your numerous visits. I haven't found a good place for the chess set yet, but I'll get it all worked out before you get here. Don't you worry about that.

My classes are great. I'm taking Roman History (in fact, I just finished a spectacular paper on the Visigoths!), Latin, Italian, and four economics classes. My economics professors are all great, though I don't think my classmates are too crazy about me. Maybe I should take your advice and not volunteer so much.

Well, I know what you're thinking. What happened to theology and the History of Christianity? I'm an economics major. Why the hell would I want to stress myself out over theology? Yes, I know. You told me so. I'm actually still taking theology, I just wanted to confuse you. It's an excellent class. You should take some theology, Leo. Seriously.

And now you're asking what changed my mind about economics. I spent a lot of time thinking about it the first day I got here, after I met the girl I'm going to marry. I was at a diner and backed into a girl, causing her to spill soda on herself. I dropped my books and made a complete ass of myself. You would have loved it. Anyway, when I dropped my books, I dropped your letter under the table, and I was so flustered I guess I forgot to pick it up.

So anyway, I offer to buy this girl another soda (I know!), and what I assumed to be her football player boyfriend turned around and took charge of the situation. I left, figuring that was that. Later that night, I went out for a smoke, and she came and found me. She had your letter, and she wanted to make sure I got it back! How wonderful is that?

Her name is Abbey Garrett. She's a freshman at St. Mary's, studying Biology. She's Pre-Med. She's just a little shorter than I am (How miraculous!), with the most lovely brown hair and eyes. Quite a pair of legs, too. The fellow from the diner is her on-again off-again boyfriend, Ron Ehrlich. I don't really know what the situation is there, but Abbey and I have met at the diner three nights in a row and had the most amazing discussions. She's from Boston, and she absolutely adores Kennedy. She was excited that we volunteered at the office this summer. You'd love her, Leo.

Abbey doesn't seem all that impressed with my grades or money or any of it. She seems most interested in me when I talk about beliefs. Ideals. She doesn't want to hear any of my lame conversation about school work. When we talk, it's like I'm in another world. When she's near me, it's like I'm in another world.

Anyway, she's sort of on-again with Ron right now. It doesn't matter to me. I'll wait for her. Ron is a year older than us, and he's also an economics major. So I see him rather often in the building where most of my classes are. He shoots me some looks, Leo. The guy must be over six feet tall. He second string on the football team. He could crush me if he wanted to.

I went straight to my advisor's office the first day of classes and switched my schedule around so I was taking the right classes to apply to the economics department next semester. There's no way I can live my life as a priest when I know that Abbey Garrett is out there in the world.

She shared a cigar with me, Leo! This girl has something like I've never seen before. I know, I know. I was never paying attention before. But wait until you meet her, Leo. You'll see. I don't know how to describe it. She's not just any girl.



I put the letter down and shake my head. There are still three more pages to read, and I have no idea who wrote me this letter! This is not Jed Bartlet! It's not at all possible. What the hell is he thinking? There is no way Jed will win this girl over an older, taller, and possibly smarter football player! This is Jed Bartlet we're talking about here. Jed would rather read than do anything else. Except maybe talk. He loves to talk. He'll talk to anyone that will listen. He's always been that way.

I can't help but worry that he's going to chase after this girl for a few months, and get his heart broken so many times that he freaks out and has another identity crisis. He can't mess around like this at school. He's going to lose scholarships if he keeps changing majors, and there's no way his father is going to pay for Jed to run around in an indecisive haze at a Catholic university. It's just a fact of life.

I was hoping I wouldn't have to drive anywhere until midterm break, but it seems like I'm gonna need to go up there and talk some sense into him. Or at least meet this girl that he's so head over heels for.

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

My first two months at Notre Dame have been very memorable, very exciting, and extremely confusing. Midterms are over, and I'm going to Chicago for our three day break. I'm leaving tonight, but Leo won't be there until Friday evening sometime. I asked Abbey if she'd like to come and meet Leo, but she's going with Ron back to Boston for the break. We've become really close, Abbey and I, and I've told her on numerous ocassions that I'm in love with her. She won't give me a straight answer and maintains that I'm just a very good friend. Ron proposed marriage to her, and she won't answer him either.

Lesser men would become frustrated with Abbey Garrett. But not I. No, I know that we're supposed to be together. Leo writes me and says I knew I was supposed to be a priest, too. This is different. I've known it since I first saw her.

Abbey and I walking around South Bend after I finished my Latin midterm. She's telling me all about how completely pointless her botany class is. I'm in heaven. We stroll onto the lawn on my campus and I'm still trying to convince her to come and meet Leo with me. I can tell she wants to come. I can tell she loves me. She's just afraid. She's been dating Ron since she was a junior in high school and I guess her parents have all sorts of expectations. I don't blame her, in all honesty. It's never easy to disappoint your parents. It was kind of a hobby for me in high school, at least with my father. Mom is a completely different topic though. It breaks my heart to ever disappoint my mother.

Imagine her parents' reaction if she brought me home for Christmas. She would go from tall, handsome, and charming Ron Ehrlich, of the Notre Dame football team, to short, quirky, arrogant Josiah Bartlet, of the Notre Dame debate team. Now I'm asking her to go to a movie with me. I tell her I'll just drive into Chicago tomorrow.

She says Ron wanted to go to the movies tonight. I tell her I'll be far more fun than Ron. She agrees. She accepts! I ask her to wait for me while I run up and get my jacket, when I bump into my friend Manny, who lives on the same hall. He hands me a telegram that just came for me. While he's leaving he casts a sympathetic look over his shoulder.

Abbey asks who the telegram is from; I laugh and tell her only Leo would send a telegram. I grab her hand and pull her under one of the lamps to one side of the lawn. I read the first sentence and know something is wrong.

Jed,

I've been in Chicago since last night. Mom died in her sleep on Tuesday, the service is tomorrow evening. Josie and Liz are asking for you, and I need you too. Aunt Mary is coming in from Atlanta tonight, and some people from church are staying with us, so it's already crowded in the apartment. Just get here as soon as you can.

L.

I suddenly become aware of just how cold it really is outside. I ball the telegram up in my fist and suddenly have the urge to scream. How could this happen to Leo? He's been through so much already. The anger passes quickly, and my eyes well up with tears.

"Jed? What is it?"

I try to calm myself down before I look up at her.

"Leo's mother passed away," I say, as I look up at her.

"Oh, Jed. I'm so sorry," she says. "She's in better place now, though. No more pain."

It's completely silent outside. Most everyone has already gone home for midterm break.

"Do you mind taking a rain check on the movie, Abbey? I really ought to get to Leo," I say. She smiles.

"Of course I don't mind," she replies, and takes my hand in hers. "You're awfully upset, Jed. Are you sure you'll be all right driving?"

"I'll be fine, Abbey. I've got to be strong for Leo now," I say. Abbey knows that I was very close to Leo's mother, but she doesn't say anything. She just sort of runs her thumb across the top of my hand.

"Will you call the house tomorrow so I know you got there okay?" She's taken my other hand and she's writing her number on it with the pen from my shirt pocket.

"Sure," I say. We stand there for another minute or two, and then I pull my hand away. "I need to get going."

"Yeah," she says. I look at her again, and she's watching me skeptically.

"I'll call you tomorrow," I say, and begin to walk away.

"Jed," she says, and I turn around. She leans up and kisses me gently on the cheek. "Tell Leo I'm very sorry. Tell him I can't wait to meet him."

My hand involuntarily flutters up to where she kissed me. I can't help it, I smile.

"I will," I say, and pull myself away. When I round the corner to building in front of my dorm, I turn and catch one last glimpse of her, standing in the same spot, watching me.

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

I'd just returned to the dorm from my harrowing physics midterm when the telegram came from Josie. I don't even know how to explain my reaction. It sort of felt like I'd been sucker punched and had the wind knocked out of me. I laid down on my bed and curled up into a ball, hugging the blanket that she'd knitted for me before I left for school. She was dying, even then, and still knitting and cooking and fighting it. She was trying to be a normal mother. A mother not dying of cancer. She fought it to the very end.

I felt like I'd cried for hours. When I finally got up, a sort of numbness had settled in. I went and explained to my Latin professor the situation, and he said I could make up the test when I returned. I went back to my dorm, packed up some things, and caught a bus to the train station. I'd arrived just in time for the last train of the day to Chicago.

I don't remember much about the train ride. I imagine I did a lot of staring out the window. It was nearly midnight before I got into Chicago, and I walked home from the station.

Mrs. McGinty from church was sitting in the living room when I came in, and I had startled her when my key turned in the door. She explained to me the details of the service and everything, and said my Aunt Mary was coming first thing in the morning. I nodded in reply I think. I barely even remember talking to her.

Lizzie was asleep in my bed when I got upstairs. I opened the door to Josie's room, and she was reading by the light of her desk lamp. I cleared my throat to make her aware of my presence, and she lept out of bed and hugged me. She seems to be holding it together very well, even now. I think the service will make things more real for her.

I talked to Josie for a while and then went in and checked on Lizzie. She was still asleep. I tiptoed through the room quietly to my closet and reached into the loose ceiling tile. A bottle of scotch was still there from the summer. I pulled it out of the ceiling, kissed Lizzie's forehead, and closed the door quietly behind me. I went into Mom's room, turned the radio on, and drank myself into an oblivion before falling asleep in her bed. I could still smell her. She always smelled like lavender.

I woke up early this morning and sent Jed a telegram. He had exams all day today, so who knows when he'll get it. I picked up the newspaper and went back to the house, before Josie and Liz were even out of bed. Mrs. McGinty came again to get the girls for school. Josie got up and went; she's worried about her math class. Lizzie caught sight of me as she came downstairs and told Mrs. McGinty she was not going to school again today. The poor woman opened her mouth to argue, but I interrupted.

"It's okay, Lizzie," I said, and she came and sat in my lap. "We can go pick out flowers for Mama. And I'll get you some lunch and we'll go throw the baseball around. Maybe see a movie," I said. Lizzie nodded into my shoulder, and Mrs. McGinty nodded at me.

It's not easy to make final arrangements for your mother. I'm just picking out the flowers and things. And nothing with the funeral home. Lizzie and I are just walking through the street and looking at florists. Aunt Mary will take care of everything when she gets here this evening. Lizzie's holding my hand, something she grew out of by the time she was ten. She's going to be thirteen in June, and she's holding my hand as we walk through downtown Chicago.

I can't imagine how scared she is right now. I'm an adult, I'm on my own, and I'm scared. Josie's being a regular soldier right now, bottling it all up. I don't know what to do with her. She needs to get it out. Maybe when Jed gets here I'll have some time to take Josie aside.

I buy Lizzie a hot dog, and she announces that she wants to see Spartacus. Josie and Liz, as far as I've gathered, have big crushes on Laurence Olivier. Or is it Kirk Douglas? I can't ever remember. They both have so many pin-ups in their room it's hard to keep them all straight. Anyway, I take Lizzie to see Spartacus, and she loves it. We come out of the theatre into the garish daylight and she's bubbling over the whole picture. It was a pretty good movie, I guess. I especially loved how completely evil they make the government out to be. Olivier does a brilliant villain. Brilliant.

Josie should be home from school now, and she's waiting for us on the stoop when we walk up. We go into the house together, where several of the women from church are inside beginning what appears to be a huge dinner. Aunt Mary will be here by supper time, so I guess it's good of them to cook. I appreciate all they're trying to do, but it gets annoying to come home and have different people in the house each time.

Liz and Josie both settle down in front of the television, though Josie is doing homework while Liz watches some soap opera. I sit down in an arm chair, and I guess I fall asleep, because Josie's waking me up to tell me it's time to get Aunt Mary from the train station. Lizzie is asleep in front of the television. I tell Josie to help Mrs. McGinty set the table and get Lizzie up, and then I hail a cab and go to the train station.

Something inside of me feels empty, and I know I'll feel a little better once Jed gets here. He should be here sometime after midnight, if he got the telegram before dinner. Jed forgets to eat on a regular basis when he's caught up in school work. Though, I think the fact that he normally takes Abbey to dinner has made nourishment more of a priority for him.

I take a seat on a bench in the depot, which is surprisingly calm for this time of day. It's usually bustling with people leaving the city after a day's work. Today it's eerily quiet. I lean over and put my head in my hands and try to collect my thoughts. Aunt Mary isn't expecting a nephew in bits and pieces when she gets here. I'm Kate's son; and Kate was always the strong one. Aunt Frances was the oldest, the favorite; Mom was the second child, she was the mediator, the calm soul; Aunt Mary and Aunt Elizabeth are the two younger girls, the ones full of passion and personality. I smile as I think about the last time we were all together at the same time. It was Christmas in Boston when I was ten years old. It was the best Christmas I'd ever had.

The depot is a little busier now and I hear the train coming in. I stand up as the train pulls to a stop and scan the crowd of people for my aunt. There are too many, and I'm too short to see over the taller people.

"Leo," she says, and I feel a hand on my shoulder. I turn to face her, and smile. She hasn't changed since the last time I saw her. The same auburn hair and bright eyes. She pulls me into a hug before I can say anything.

"I'm glad you're here," I say, and she pats my back. I collect her bags and we hail a cab in front of the station.



Josie and Liz were ecstatic to see Aunt Mary when we got home. We had a nice dinner, and Mrs. McGinty wrote down a page's worth of information for my aunt about funeral arrangements. Aunt Mary thanked her at least a dozen times. When Mrs. McGinty finally left, Aunt Mary sent the girls upstairs to bathe and get homework done. Josie, of course, had been done with her assignments for hours, so she came back downstairs to play checkers with me for a while. Aunt Mary fixed herself a strong drink with liquor that my mother had apparently hidden in the basement for entertaining. She fixed me one, too, and sat down with Lizzie to help her with homework.

I let Josie win a few games of checkers, and then asked her if she wanted to learn to play chess. She refused, like she always does, claiming I'd be mad if she ever beat me. That's my sister. Never underestimates herself. Lizzie finished up her homework and wanted to play checkers, so Josie gave up her seat and went to sit with Aunt Mary and read. Lizzie is an excellent checkers player. I have to really keep my guard up.

Aunt Mary sent the girls up to bed around ten. We talked for a while about getting things done in the morning; cleaning the house, finalizing everything with the florist, meeting with Father Joe at church. The service is at six tomorrow evening. My mother's funeral is at six tomorrow evening.

We talked about school for a while, too, and how things are going to work after I go back. Josie and Liz are going to Atlanta, and they'll start school there as soon as possible. Aunt Mary said we'd work out the money so I could get down there for Christmas. We'd make some money selling Aunt Frances' house, and Aunt Mary says we'll use it to make sure I get to see my sisters grow up.

She goes up to bed around half past eleven. She's going to sleep in Mom's room. I go upstairs around midnight and check on Josie. She's up reading, and she simply smiles at me as I look in at her. I close the door to the room and open the door to Lizzie's room, which is empty. Then I remember Mom telling me in a letter that Lizzie has made a habit out of sleeping in my room, claiming it makes her feel closer to me. I was ready to cry when I read that, and when I peek into my room and see her curled up in my bed, my breath catches in my throat. I can't imagine not being able to see them whenever I want. I just can't imagine it.

I go back downstairs and resist the urge to pour myself another drink. I want to be sober when Jed gets here. I want to be able to talk to him without the look he gives me when I'm drunk. I've just gotten comfortable in an arm chair when I hear a soft knock at the front door. As I get up to walk to the door, I glimpse out the window and see that it's raining.

The door opens before I get there; I guess I forgot to lock it. And there's my best friend, standing in the front hall, soaked to the skin. He needs a haircut.

"I had to park around the block," he says, setting his suitcase down. I smile at him. And in that instant, everything sort of crystallizes in my mind. I guess the strong Leo mask that has been suffocating me all day sort of cracks, and I let out a single anguished sob before turning away from Jed. I don't ever like him to see me cry. I don't like anyone to see me cry.

I feel like I'm going to be sick from crying so hard. And then I feel Jed's hand on the back my neck.

"Leo," he says. "You don't have to hide from me."

This small statement, which I've heard dozens of times before, makes me feel a little stronger. I try and catch my breath, and calm myself down, but his hand is still on my neck. My best friend is here; he's saving the day again. He's always here. This realization makes me sob again, and Jed pulls me into his arms. I bury my head in his shoulder and cry like ... some ... grandmother. It's a few minutes before I realize he's crying too.

And then I realize that Jed has lost someone as well. She wasn't just my mother. She was a friend, a sister, an aunt. I'm not alone in my tremendous grief. This thought makes me feel even a little stronger than before.

We both finally dry up after a few minutes and give each other equally watery grins. I've missed him.

Jed goes into the basement to change out of his wet clothes, and I fix him something to eat. We sit at the kitchen table in amicable silence; the kind that feels like conversation. He finishes his sandwich, pushes his plate away, and looks up at me.

"Abbey kissed me," he says, grinning. And I laugh. We're both laughing hysterically now, for no good reason. I'm going to be exhausted by the time I get off this emotional roller coaster.

Josie and Liz both come into the kitchen, claiming I've woken them up, though I know Josie wasn't asleep anyway. And then they see Jed and nearly tackle him. All four of us are laughing now, and it feels so good to see my sisters laugh. It makes me feel like we're all going to come out of this. We're all going to move on and be okay.

The four of us sat in the kitchen and talked for a while, before I told the girls they needed to get back to bed. You'd think they'd be less hostile, it was nearly two in the morning. And they're the ones who are going to be cleaning tomorrow morning while Aunt Mary and I are at church with Father Joe and getting everything else squared away.

Josie kissed the top of my head and Jed's, and trudged back up the stairs. Lizzie wanted someone to tuck her in, and she's always had a strong attachment to Jed. He picked her up, tossed her over his shoulder, and carried her upstairs. I could hear them laughing from my seat in the kitchen.

It's been a while since Jed took Lizzie upstairs, so I make my way up to check on them. I crack the door to my room to find it empty. The light in Lizzie's room is on, and I ease the door open to quite a sight. Jed is asleep, flat on his back, arm around Lizzie, who has fallen asleep with her little head on his chest. I hope he got her to talk a little bit. Jed and Lizzie have always had a sort of bond. Everything seems to be more normal with him back in the house. Of course, things won't ever be completely normal again.

I turn the light out in Lizzie's room and close the door. I notice light still showing under Josie's door, and I peek in on her. She's got photographs all over the bed, and she's completely engrossed in them. I clear my throat to let her know I'm in the room, and I startle her. She looks up at me, and she's been crying. Finally. I sit down next to her on the bed, and she rests her head on my shoulder.

"I don't know what I'm going to do without her, Leo," she says, barely above a whisper.

"We're going to get through it. It's what Mom always did, Josie," I say, and begin to cry again. Josie picks up the photographs and sets them on the floor, and then pushes me back until I'm laying down. Then she curls up next to me and rubs my back. Mom used to always rub my back when I was sick or upset.

"We'll get through it, Leo," she says. I drift off into a restless sleep as Josie rubs my back.