To anyone who knew him, Tom Jennings seemed to be spreading himself too thin. He worked nearly full days with Garringer. The Collins family wasn't working him as hard as anyone expected, but the jobs they asked him to do were time consuming. Thankfully, he had few problems with the members of the family. Mrs. Stoddard was generally nice to him, as was the sweet young governess who he occasionally saw wandering around the house. Roger Collins was rarely seen around the house, although his son was regularly seen running around the house with some means of destruction gripped in his small hands. The same could be said for Carolyn Stoddard, although her weapons of choice were the hearts of any man she dragged into the great estate. Tom almost felt sorry for every poor schmuck she dated, be it the weird hippie boy or the local lawyer. Of course, Carolyn wasn't as creepy as the family cousin that lived in the Old House. Tom didn't understand why, but every time he saw that man, or his manservant, he felt sick. If the money weren't so good, he would find a way to ask about them. He knew that his questions weren't the kind you asked if you expected to maintain your job.

The money was being put to good use. Thankfully, Amy began to recover. Genevieve continued to insist that it was the stress that was making her ill, although the bozos at the hospital still found reasons to try run countless tests on her small body. Tom usually shot those plans down as he trusted Genevieve's judgment over that of the doctors. It only went to show that he and Genevieve were closer than ever. The few people that realized that they were living together refused to talk about it. Many people were already under the impression that the couple was married. Since they were planning to marry eventually, both Tom and Genevieve generally failed to correct the people who thought they were. Privately, they made plans to leave town once the money could be freed up. Both of them wanted to go to California to live off the beach. Tom was sure that the change of atmosphere would do them all—particularly Amy—good.

He was shocked to see a strange car sitting in his driveway when he got home. He ran through his memory in the hopes of finding a car that looked like this one. He knew most of Amy's friends from school and none of their parents had this old car. None of his or Genevieve's friends owned anything like it either. He knew that it was best not to jump to any conclusions, but he couldn't help it in this light. Before he could get the key into the lock, the door opened to reveal a serious looking Genevieve on the other side. "Calm down," she said softly.

"I haven't said anything."

Genevieve shook her head and took her lover's hand. "I know how you think, Tom. A weird car is sitting in front of your house at an evening hour. I know that you're suspicious."

Tom nodded solemnly as he leaned his side against the doorframe. "You know me well, hon. So tell me, what's going on?"

"You have to promise to keep your cool, okay?"

Tom raised his right hand and said, "Cross my heart, hope to die. Now tell me."

Genevieve opened her mouth, but it shut it the moment Amy crept up next to her. The small girl wrapped one arm protectively around Genevieve's leg. In the other, she carried a plush blue bunny. Although he knew that Amy had an extensive stuffed animal collection, Tom had never seen this one before. "Amy," he asked, "who gave that to you?"

Amy's lips curled into a sweet smile as she said, "Chris gave it to me."

"Chris?" Amy nodded rapidly. Tom cast an awkward glance down to Genevieve, who couldn't maintain eye contact with him. "How long has he been here?"

"Just a few hours," whispered Genevieve.

Tom would have blown a fuse had Amy not been at his feet. The look in Genevieve's eyes was begging him to remain cool. Tom tried his best to keep a placid look on his face as he walked into his house. He wandered into the living room to see his brother sitting in what was effectively HIS chair. It had been a little over five years since he had laid eyes on his brother. Shockingly enough (at least to Tom), Chris had not physically changed. The weight of all he had done had not taken a noticeable toll. Tom had always hoped that this would happen, making his wayward brother distinctive from himself. In fact, they looked more alike more than ever. His first inclination was to yell at him, but he didn't. "Hello," he mumbled. "It's been awhile."

"Yeah it has." Chris looked around the room with anxious eyes, scanning each object as if it were new surroundings. Slowly, he rose from the chair and walked toward his brother. Tom could see worry circling the man's eyes. It was his first inkling that Chris was having a hard life. Tom didn't feel for him, firmly believing his brother had brought this pain upon himself. "Um . . . how have you been?" asked Chris shyly.

Tom immediately bit his tongue, knowing that if he were to speak now, he would probably regret it. He couldn't believe that Chris was making small talk. Tom couldn't pretend that nothing had happened, especially not when he was the one who had been left behind to deal with the repercussions. But Tom was not blind enough to miss that Amy seemed amazed by her prodigal brother. He would do his best not to embarrass him in her mind. "I've been as well as can be expected," answered Tom softly.

Chris nodded. "I . . . well, I've been meaning to call but I've been . . . "

"Busy?"

"Yes . . . I mean no . . . I mean . . . God!" Chris moved up closer to Tom, staring his brother in the face with intense conviction as he said, "Listen, I know this sounds like complete bullshit, but I'm telling the truth. I've been working through a lot of things in my life and it has really taken up most of my time."

"You mean it's taken up five years of your life?" asked Tom, now unable to control the spite from stinging his words. "You're saying that you didn't have five minutes to spare for your flesh and blood? Really Chris, that's hard to believe. There's no doubt in my mind that you've had some crazy stuff to work through, but no one's problems are that big!"

"No, you don't understand," insisted Chris.

"Then tell me about it!" screamed Tom. "You couldn't tell anyone about this problem a few years ago. Can you tell me now?"

Chris stepped back, seemingly afraid of his brother. "Are you sure that you've been alright over the last few years?"

"No!" Chris opened his mouth to speak but Tom immediately jumped in, saying, "I left a possible future behind to take care of our grandmother and sister after our parents died. Why did I do this? I think it's because the brother that everyone depended on to take care of things split town without explanation. Hell, he's standing right here in front of me and he's still talking in circles."

"That was uncalled for!"

"Hold up! Let me answer your question again. I feel fine, Chris. My conscience is at rest."

Chris didn't react immediately. He backed up from Tom slowly, careful to feel his way back to the chair with a few well-placed kicks to clear the walkway. His face remained stoic until his glance landed on the doorway. Almost instantly, his eyes thinned to narrow slits as he stared ahead. Tom turned around to catch Genevieve scurrying out of the way as she closed the door. Chris waited until Tom faced him to speak. "I don't know what to tell you. I understand that your life isn't all that you thought it would be. But let me tell you, if you think your life is hell, I can assure you that mine is a million times worse."

"Well lets look at the facts: your life goes to nothing after you desert a family that needed you --nay, depended on-- you in some cases. Hmm . . . have you heard of karma? I'm pretty sure that's the cause of your problems."

Again, Tom had struck his brother speechless. Each time he attempted to talk, he would sigh and look away. Eventually, Chris buried his head into his palms. Tom listened carefully and, to his relief, he heard no crying. "How can you be so cold to your own brother?" he asked softly.

"You're going to have to excuse my coldness," said Tom, now allowing venomous laughter to infect his voice, "but I don't see why you have the right to complain. You were always cold to me, even when we were children. I earned my right to be heartless, at least when it comes to you."

"You don't understand!" wailed Chris. "I've changed (oh God! How I hate that word) . . . I'm not the person you grew up with."

"But you look just like him," snapped Tom.

Chris took a breath and fell back into the chair. Slowly, he brought his hand to his head and massaged his temples. Tom thought the scene to look odd. He had never seen Chris so anxious in all the years they had been together. Maybe his brother had changed? Chris shook his head violently before saying, "I don't feel real anymore. I don't deserve to live."

"Huh? I don't understand."

"That's what I've been trying to tell you! I . . . I've hurt so many people. Mom, Dad, Grandma, you, Amy, Sabrina . . . "

"Hold up a minute!" Tom dragged a chair from the other side of the room over to Chris' seat. "Who is Sabrina?"

"She's someone I loved . . . someone I still love."

"Then why aren't you with her?" asked Tom. "If you love her so much, go to her now!"

Chris sighed and sunk further into the chair. "She knows about me," he insisted quietly. "She knows my secret . . . oh God . . . if she's still . . . "

"But that's the way relationships work. Genevieve knows more about me than anyone else. I don't like to think that she knows these things, but I can't turn her away because she knows the bad me."

"You're still not getting it." Chris sat up and leaned into Tom's face. "My secrets are much worse than yours. Genevieve knowing your stuff is nothing like Sabrina knowing mine."

"That's presumptive," said Tom. "You've not been here. You don't know me well enough to say that your secrets are worse than mine."

"It doesn't matter. I can guarantee it."

Tom said nothing. As hard as he had tried, he had been unable to see the "new Chris." His brother seemed as arrogant as ever. Tom wanted to accept his brother; more than ever, he was looking to make his family feel complete. Nothing would have felt more complete than to have Chris home again. "Are you going to stay?" he asked.

"Stay where?" asked Chris. "Here."

"No Portland. Of course here! I just assumed that if you were ready to finally face your family, or at least what's left of it, you'd be ready to stay."

Chris immediately shakes his head. "I'm not ready for that. To tell the truth, YOU'RE not ready for it, either."

"I'm ready for more than you think."

"I . . . I . . . I don't think this is going anywhere," mumbled Chris finally. "I should just go."

"I think you should."

Chris nodded and promptly leapt from the chair. He grabbed a bag that had been unobtrusively lying to the side and slung it over his shoulder on the way to the door. He and Tom stared at one another for a moment, quietly sizing the other up and trying to find the words to bid his brother adieu. Chris finally spoke up, saying, "I really didn't want our relationship to be this way. I've always held out for the hope that we could be friends."

"So had I," whispered Tom. "So had I."

"But maybe that can still happen." Chris dug around in his bag until he found a weather beaten notebook. He scrawled out a name, address, and telephone number before tearing the paper out and handing it to Tom. "If you ever need to get in touch with me, go through all of this."

Tom took the sheet of paper without looking down at it. "Okay, this'll do. And you know where I am, right? Of course. So, if you're ever in trouble and need someone to talk with, remember that, although I really don't like you right now, I am your brother and I want to know what's going on."

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

Tom watched as Chris quietly opened the door and walked out. Suddenly, he remembered to remind his brother to say goodbye to Amy. If Chris left without telling her, the girl would probably be distraught, blaming both he and Tom over their lack of foresight. He rushed to the driveway to see that his reminder was unneeded. Chris sat on the front door stairs with Amy clutched in his arms. Tom could see a few tears slipping down her cheeks as she held on to her brother's shoulders. "You don't need to go," she sniffled. "You need to stay here with us!"

"I know, but I can't," insisted Chris softly. "There's nothing I'd love to do than stay here with all of you, but I've got a lot of things to clear up. Do you understand?" Amy shook her head. "Ah sweetheart, I know it's hard to understand, but it's not like we'll be separated forever. In no time, I'll come back to stay. Who knows, maybe it'll be just the two of us? There will come a time when we'll have to back off and give the wacky lovebirds time to themselves. We'll be together then, okay?"

Amy nodded cautiously. Tom thought that she knew that Chris was just trying to appease her. Chris probably did too. He sighed and kissed his sister on the cheek before handing her off to Genevieve. Chris shook her hand and whispered something in her ear. She nodded, but Tom noticed the way the corners of her mouth turned in. She was not a happy camper. Chris briefly turned back to his brother and waved. Tom did the same and watched as his older sibling stepped into his car and drove off.

Tom was still staring out onto his driveway when Genevieve walked into the house with Amy at her side. Almost immediately, Amy reached out to Tom, who didn't waver in accepting his kid sister into his arms. She laid her head against his chest, clutching him tightly around the back while carrying Chris' gift to her between them. "Will Chris ever come back?" she asked.

"Of course he will," said Tom with false surety. "He'll be back before you know it. You do believe me, don't you?"

"Yes, Tom. I know that you won't lie to me," explained Amy. "If you say he's coming back, I know that he is."

Tom choked back tears as he kissed his sister's forehead. He took his sister to her room and told her to prepare for bed. The girl did so without question, and in no time, was tucked inside the covers, waiting for her brother to send her off to sleep. Tom told her a quick story, and she drifted off before he was finished.

Tom fled her bedroom quietly and headed off for his own. When he entered, he saw Genevieve sitting in a recliner near the bed, her face cradled in her hands as she sobbed oblivious to her lover's appearance. He sank next to her and locked his arms around her shoulders, allowing her to cry into his body. "I'm so sorry," she sighed. "I thought he was you when I opened the door. It took me about a second to realize that I was wrong, but by then, it was too late to do anything about it. I didn't want you to go through this. I know you don't like your brother."

"It's not your fault," Tom reassured her. "Besides, there was nothing you could do about it. He was going to get in touch with me one way or another. This way is as good as any."

"True, but I hated to see Amy's hopes dashed on the rocks."

"Me too." Tom pulled away from her and sank to the floor. He looked back into Genevieve's face and said, "I think Chris is hiding something from me."

"Why do you say that?"

"He kept asking me how I was and he went on and on about some deep dark secret of his. I don't get it: he wanted to see me to make amends, but he wasn't willing to tell me what his life has amounted to over that last few years. It doesn't really make sense."

Genevieve nodded as she slipped deeper into her chair. "Are you going to find out what it is?"

Tom smiled slimly as he pulled the crumbled sheet of paper out from his pocket. "I will one day . . . but not now. They'll be plenty of time to deal with my brother. His secret has waited five years. It can wait a little longer."