Author's Note: hope you all had a great holiday.  Don't have much to say except I hope you enjoy reading this, and as always, feedback is appreciated, re-read several times, and put into practice if it includes helpful hints.

Author's thanks at the end.

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Watching Sands out of cautious eyes, Tessa sat up on the couch.  As she had spent most of the night crying, she had become more and more horizontal until she had eventually ended up lying on her back.  Now, she wanted to give her patient somewhere to sit down before he needed it . . . and it was hard to defend one's self while lying down.

   Sands took the spot she had vacated, and she envied him.  She envied that he had heard that she was moving and had been able to tell where she was in space in relation to him without any visual cues; jealous of the way that he so confidently trusted his senses.  More often than not, Tess had to think over whether or not she had heard something, not daring to trust the information her own ears sent her.  They – the voice in her head – had fooled her enough that she was cautious when it came to immediately reacting to audio stimuli.  Her eyes, at least, she could trust, for the time being.  As time went on, it became more and more likely that her schizophrenia would start displaying itself in other areas of her mind.

   As she listened to Sands' conversation with Logan with half a mind, she thought how preposterous it was to be jealous of a man who had lost his sight in a rather gruesome manner.  Her patient would laugh himself sick if he knew what she was thinking.  There was no way in heaven above or hell below that he would think himself gifted in his current state.  Tess – should she ever find herself in his position – would find her grip on reality fraying with each day that passed in darkness.  Without the visual world she would be unable to combat the voice in her head that fought to ring in her ears; she'd lose herself in the dark.

   How many morbid thoughts can one mind hold before it turns on the person thinking them? she wondered as she leaned against the arm of the couch and hugged her knees to herself.  How much of my instability is caused by lingering on such thoughts, reveling in darkness of what shouldn't be questioned?  How long can a creature dwell in the depths before adapting so totally that it can't exist anywhere else?  Lena began whimpering in the back room, and glad for the distraction and the excuse to leave, Tessa got up from the couch and went to fetch the infant.

   Walking into the room that the four siblings shared, Tess gently scooped the girl-child up from her make-shift cradle.  While old enough to start crawling around the house, Lena was still too young to sleep through the night without interruption.  None of the other children had stirred at the baby's unhappy mumbles; they were used to sharing a small space with their youngest sister.  Tess, however, was used to living alone and found the quiet whimpers nearly as loud as a shout in the small house.  "What's the matter?  Are you wet?  Not enough light in here to tell."  Carrying the child on her hip, Tess went into her bathroom.  Lena's diaper was clean.  "Hungry then?"  Once again settling the sleepless child against her side, Tess went into the kitchen to fix a bottle of formula.

   As she passed the living room, she noticed that Sands was still on the phone.  His voice was too low for her to hear more than an indistinct murmur.  He didn't appear agitated, but that meant nothing – the man was an expert at hiding reactions that he didn't noticed by others.  Still, as his current doctor, isn't it my job to keep from getting too agitated?  That would set his progress back, and I don't think that either of us wants to be in this situation for any longer than we have to be.  Lena started fussing again as Tessa slowed to peek into the room.  "Yes, I hear.  You want food.  Just be patient."

   It was easy enough to mix together the dry formula and some warm water from the tap.  Shaking the bottle vigorously in her right hand and holding the baby with her left, Tess walked out the backdoor and onto the small railed patio there.  The night air was warm, but not unpleasantly so.  Culíacan's proximity to the coast kept the temperature relatively mild for all but the hottest of the summer months.  Slowly pacing back and forth, Tess fed the bottle to the child and softly sang bits and pieces of songs to the child, hoping to get her to go back to sleep.

   Eventually, Lena fell back asleep.  Tess walked straight to the children's bedroom and put Lena back down in her bed.  She silently checked on the other children, but they were fast asleep and showed no signs of tears or nightmares.

   Assured that all was well, Tess decided that she had better go check on her patient.  She was glad that he had been able to walk around, that his body was healing, and that his pain levels were decreasing, but none of that would last for long if he over-exerted himself.  It didn't matter if he wanted to talk on the phone some more, he needed rest.

   With this thought in her head, Tessa went back to the living room to usher what was likely to be her recalcitrant patient back to bed – the only problem with this plan was that Sands wasn't in the living room.  Nor was he in the kitchen, the hall, the bathroom, or her bedroom.  As far as Tess could tell, he wasn't in the house.  Well, I sincerely doubt that he's taken off after sticking around for this long, and even Logan at his most exuberant shouldn't have been enough to make him head for the hills.  But . . . he's definitely not in the house.  So where is he?  As Tess stood in the middle of her empty bedroom, she heard the cry of a small barn owl as it passed in the night.  I suppose it's possible that he went outside.  But why?  Shrugging her shoulders because "why" didn't really matter at the moment, Tess followed her instinct and went back outside.

Whatever else Sands thought about Tess and her friend and his wacky idea, he had to admit that the kid had enthusiasm.  Not that he knew how old the other man was – if he had gone to school with Tess he must have some experience under his belt, but he had a voice that sounded as if it should belong to a med student rather than a doctor with years of research and experience to rely on.  And Sands had to admit that there was a certain type of genius to the man's plan – not that that made it any less crazy.

   That's why Sands had decided to talk with "Dr. Pierce" more extensively.  He didn't trust a plan that lacked an element of madness.  God knew that all of his plans contained more than their share of lunacy.

   I need a cigarette.  Carelessly throwing the cell phone onto the couch, Sands stood up, biting back a groan as the muscles of his legs burned and his head resumed its pounding.  Christ, I'm getting tired of this.

   Sands made his faintly unsteady way down the hall and towards the back of the house.  Fairly confident that no one was around to observe him, he placed his left hand against the wall to help keep his weaving and wavering to a minimum.  Uncaringly grabbing his pack of cigarettes and the lighter Tess had provided from the bedside table, Sands debated where he should go to smoke.  While Tessa hadn't said anything to him about his smoking, he was fairly certain that she didn't approve of it in her house.  Not that I care about what she approves and disapproves of.  Still, it would be nice to get outside.

   Quietly, he made his way through the house to the kitchen.  Earlier that day, during the meal, he'd heard Tess take some garbage out that way.  He assumed it was the back door, although he couldn't say for sure since he had no idea if this house even had more than one.  Turning the knob, he carefully stepped through, well aware that a missed step or twisted ankle would be the crowning achievement to his recent bout of ignominious injuries.  Not to mention that if he did manage to sprain an ankle because he was being anything less than supremely cautious, he'd have to laugh himself out of the CIA; there wasn't anyone else around to do it for him.  Well, I always have been my own biggest supporter.

   It took several moments for Sands to light his cigarette – he didn't have the kid around to tell him whether to go left or right with the flame – but he eventually managed to get the cigarette lit and was able to take a healthy drag from it.  As he exhaled slowly, he supposed that he should at least try to cut back on the amount of cigarettes  he smoked, but at he moment he really didn't give a damn.  It wasn't as if the loveliness of the surrounding was giving him any pleasure.  He inhaled slowly again, holding his breath to keep the smoke in his lungs.  Alone.  Finally.  No busybody doctor with cryptic words to bother me.  Somewhere nearby an owl hooted.  Sands let out the breath he'd been holding.

   For the space of several breaths, Sands remained alone, just he and the night that saw less than he did.  Or maybe it saw more.  Or maybe he'd been around that woman for so long that her tangled thinking was creeping into his own mind.  Just smoke, Sands.  That's what you came out here for.  Taking one last drag, Sands snuffed out the snub that was left of his first cigarette on the railing he was leaning against.  He pulled another out of his pack, and as he was lighting it, he heard the hinges of the screen-door creak as someone came out of the house.  There was the distinct -slap- of a single bare foot against the boards of the porch before his guest hesitated.  "Nice friend you've got there."

   "How'd you know it was me?"  Tess had been dying to ask the question for over a day now.  How did a man who couldn't see so accurately tell who was around him, even when the other person had made no more noise than a single quiet footstep?

   "He who hesitates is lost.  You doubt yourself a lot, don't you?  Tell me, on a scale of one to ten, where would your self-confidence level be?"

   "Caution is the better part of valor.  I fail to see how my state of mind has anything to do with how you always know it's me."  Sands took another drag of his cigarette; the faint light the action produced threw mysterious shadows over his face.  Tess shivered at the blatant reminder of how little she knew about this man.

   For several minutes, Sands didn't bother replying, not really caring to answer her original question.  To answer would require thought about how he perceived things now that he couldn't see – something he'd rather pay no mind to at all.  He hated that he was blind, hated that it was a rather permanent reminder of his failure and stupidity and the futileness of trust.  Hated the teasing sensation of hope at the back of his mind that told him that this woman was his only ticket back to the realm of the sighted.

   "He's trying to imitate Frankenstein.  You're aware of that, right?"

   Without thinking, Tess replied, "We live in a Newtonian world of Einsteinian physics ruled by Frankenstein logic."

   Sands paused before asking, "Do have a quote for every occasion?"

   Tess shrugged, wrapping her arms around her middle and leaning back against the carved porch rail.  "The race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, nor bread to the wise, nor riches to men of understanding, nor favor to men of skill; but time and chance happen to them all."  Turning her eyes to the street below her house, Tess went on, "Perhaps not every occasion, but I'm getting there.  What do you mean Logan is trying to imitate Dr. Frankenstein?"

   "Look what a madman did with just pieces of dead bodies.  What is your friend going to make with a living man and a pair of eyes?  Frankenstein's creation didn't thank him.  What makes you think I'll be any more grateful?"

   "What makes you think that . . ."  No, that wasn't the question she wanted to ask.  "Why do you compare yourself to a monster?  You're just a man.  A dangerous hombre who shouldn't be underestimated, by all means.  But a man nonetheless.  A victim, either of the Fates, or the cartel, or . . . ." she trailed off, sure that she was about to overstep her boundaries as a caregiver.

   "Or what, niña?  Of my own overbearing arrogance?  Is that what you wanted to suggest?"

   Yes, that was what she had been about to say, and if he could tell then he must be thinking that on some level himself.  "The mass of men live lives of quiet desperation."  Straightening, she said, "No one is forcing you to do anything, señor.  You are free here to come and go as you please.  If you need help, please don't hesitate to wake me."  Sands thought that she was going to go in, but was surprised to hear her walking towards him.  The quiet footsteps stopped and a moment later he felt the cigarette that he was holding be plucked from his fingers.

   Tess raised the cigarette to her mouth and took a deep drag.  She immediately started coughing so hard that her eyes began to water.  Muffling the explosions behind one hand, she gave the cigarette back to Sands, who took it with a bewildered look on his face.  Breathing deep through her nose, Tess said in a rough voice, "Just as I suspected – some things never change."  This time when Sands heard footsteps, they were moving away from him and were followed closely by the noisy hinges of a screen door being opened.  "However, most of us have a choice to change."  Then the screen door slammed shut and Sands was once again alone with his thoughts.

   Damn her.

"So, just how do you plan on getting out of the country?"  Tess looked up from brushing her teeth to find Sands once again blocking her way out of the bathroom with his trim frame.  Is that his way of declaring his intention to go to LA and meet with Logan? she wondered as she took her time scrubbing her back molars.  Or was he listening in long enough to hear me tell Logan that I was coming up for a visit?  Tess spit into the sink, rinsed off her toothbrush, and then placed it in the cup that now held four others.  It was strange seeing that small collection of personal hygiene products.  Never before in her life had she found herself gazing at her toothbrush as it sat next to others.  In the dorms when she had been away at school, she and her roommate Ingrid – another med major – had kept their things in separate cabinets and their few surface areas clean.  As a child, she'd had her own bathroom that held nothing more than her own belongings.

   "Señorita?"

   "Oh, sorry."  Tessa made her brain switch gears, and it haltingly responded.  "I hadn't quite decided that yet.  It's easy enough for me to get out of the country – I have a passport – but I wasn't sure, and I'm still not sure, how many people I need to get out of the country.  I assume you're asking because you've decided to at least accompany me as far as Los Angeles?  Even if you do think that Logan is nuts?"

   Sands shrugged, playing the nonchalant bystander.  "Just because he's nuts and his plan sounds like it was cooked up by a forth grader doesn't mean that it doesn't have merit.  I've come up with too many crazy schemes on my own to discount this one outright."

   "Mmm."  Picking up her container of floss, Tess pulled a piece off and started cleaning between her teeth.  When Sands didn't leave after several seconds of silence, she looked back up at him.  There must be something else he wanted to say or ask.  That or he was simply trying to either intimidate or annoy her.  Is there no in-between with this man?  He's either cooperative or trying to get on my nerves.  Why can't he just give it a rest and act like a normal person for once?

   Who are you to judge?

   I may not be normal, but at least I've seen how normal people act, and I'm not sure that this is it.  Throwing the used piece of floss in the wastebasket, Tess crossed the bathroom and took Sands by the arm.  "Bed.  Now.  If you want to be able to walk around tomorrow at all, then you need to rest."  The arm she had taken hold of flexed and twitched out of her grasp.  Taking that as a sign that her touch wasn't wanted at the moment, Tess let it slide, and followed her patient to the bed.  "I swear we've done this at least once tonight."

   "What's wrong, chiquita?  Don't you like coming to bed with me?"

   "Haven't we gone over this as well?"  Tess watched as her patient settled back on the pillows.  "I know I've said this already, but if you need me I'll be on the couch."

   She had almost made it to the doorway when Sands asked, "Why?"

   Tess was perfectly aware that he wasn't asking why she left him to himself every night – that he was asking why she hadn't given up on him, why she hadn't told Logan how he had lost his sight, why she cared.  He asked too much, so she pretended she didn't know what he meant.  "Because you like your privacy and I don't like to intrude.  Besides, I'm a horribly restless sleeper.  You wouldn't get a wink of sleep if I stayed."

   "That's not what I meant, niña."

   "I know . . . but you were asking a question I can't answer.  We all have secrets, 'Giovanni Tirado.'"  Tess hesitated before adding, "Sleep well."

   "It's Sands."

   Just over the threshold, Tess turned back and studied the man in her bed.  She didn't know what she had done or said to make him entrust her with that confidence, and she had torn feelings over it.  She was glad that he trusted her in some capacity, but that trust also terrified her, even more than the trust of Marcos and his small family.  They trusted her because she was an adult and therefore trustworthy.  He trusted her because . . . because . . . she couldn't begin to guess why.  All she could do was acknowledge that she'd heard.  "Thank you."

Tess sat her kitchen table the next morning with her head in her hand and the weight of weariness pressing down on her spine.  When all this mess is settled, the first thing I'm going to do is take a very large dose of sedatives and sleep for a week.  The past night had been full of disturbing dreams, but that was the worst that she could say about them.  Her voice was still too much under control to be able to manipulate her dreams to its own purposes, so while the feelings of her long ago past had emerged, none of the images had, and that was better than some of the nights she had.  It was a sad state though, when even exhaustion couldn't ensure a night's dreamless sleep.  And here it is, before dawn, and I'm just as tired as I was yesterday night.  She didn't even dare drink coffee for fear that the caffeine would trigger another migraine.

   Just get things settled.  Check on Sands, call Logan, make breakfast, settle travel arrangements, talk with Marcos, then go meet with Paulo.  Then, with any luck, I'll be able to sleep.  Wearily, wishing that she could simply lay in bed and ignore the rest of the world, Tess got up to start on her to-do list.

   Remembering what Sands had said the day before about the hesitation in her step when she went into a room, Tess made sure that there was no pause in her stride as she entered her bedroom.  She tried to be quiet, and apparently – for once – it paid off.  Sands was still asleep when she checked on him.  Relieved that her patient, if not she herself, got some rest, Tessa went into the bathroom and gathered her daily handful of pills, swallowing them all with the long ease of practice.  While making sure to leave the room as quietly as she had entered it, Tess was interrupted by a small gasp from the bed.  She spun around and saw that while Sands' body was still reclined and he seemed to be paying her presence no mind, his hands were gripping the covers tight enough to turn his knuckles white and his face was pale.  Crap!

   Tess darted towards the bed and threw open the lid to the trunk that still sat by the bed.  Efficiently she filled a syringe with Vicodin and injected it into the muscle of his shoulder.  Rubbing the spot to take away some of the sting, Tess waited for her patient's hands to release their death hold on the blankets.  Once they had, Tess asked, "Why didn't you come and wake me if the pain was getting worse?  Odds were that I was already awake."  She didn't bother questioning that Sands was wide awake.

   Her query was met with a growl of either impatience or ill-temper.  "What the hell did you just give me?"

   "Vicodin, but apparently I could have given you a shot of sugar while I was at it."  Sands opened his mouth to give her the dressing down of her life when she interrupted him.  "No.  Don't you dare start in on me.  As long as you are in my care I will do what I feel is best for you.  We've done things your way for the past few days – kept you on nothing stronger than Ibuprofen – and while that may be enough to keep the pain tolerable, it's not a crime to rely on something a bit stronger if you're in this much pain."  The conviction and unyielding quality in her voice made Sands shut his mouth.  "I know you're concerned about the possibility of dreams, but I'd think that by now your mind and body are so exhausted and tired of fighting the pain that you'll be able to fit in several hours of uninterrupted sleep, especially with the influence of what I just gave you."  Hands at his head were adjusting the pillows so he could recline a bit more comfortably.  "Now, I want you to go back to sleep.  I'll come in and check on you now and then, but until I do, I don't want to hear a word of protest out of you, comprendes?"

   "When'd you turn into such a shrew?"

   "When I started getting four hours of sleep a day and looking after men who are too stubborn for their own good.  Sleep, señor Sands."

   "Whatever you say, niña."

   If only that were true.

"You're kidding me."  Tessa's voice was flat with disbelief.

   "Changing your mind about your opinion of private practice, T?"

   "No, I truly do find satisfaction in my work, it's just that . . . that's a rather big perk."

   "What?  Other doctors at prestigious firms, or labs, or hospitals get cars, golf clubs, stocks, expensive bottles of champaign . . . ."

   "Yes, but we're talking about a private jet, Logan.  A jet."

   "Why are you complaining?  It's not my jet, it's the firms, and I can get it down to Mexico for you to use . . ." he dangled the offer like a lure before a fish.  "It'll get you and your mystery patient up here quickly and in style."

   "Mmm-hmm, I don't doubt that.  It's just that I'm not sure this jet of yours is equipped to handle three children and an infant.  And what do you mean, 'my mystery patient'?  Didn't he tell you his name?"

   "No.  But back up?  What do you mean 'three children and an infant'?  When'd you find the time to have kids?  Who'd you find to have kids with?"

   "They're not mine, Logan."

   "Then why do you need to bring them?"

   "It's –"

   " – a long story.  Yeah, you've said that several times already."  Logan sighed.  "Are you sure you aren't a Russian spy named Natasha and the whole schizophrenic doctor thing isn't your cover?"

   "Yeah, pretty sure.  I'll have to check in with my operation handlers to double check that however.  What's this about a plane?"  If Logan could get her a plane, that would reduce a lot of the planning that would be needed to get four nationals and a blind American . . . whatever . . . out of the country.  Not for the first time, Tess wondered if she was really better off not knowing what Sands had done to get him in so much trouble.

   "I was saying that I could send it down for you and your crew.  After all, the thing is for firm business, and if I'm to meet with this prospective client, I need to get him here, don't I?  And it would increase your privacy of that's what you're worried about.  I can even have the pilot fly it right to the airport there in Culíacan."

   "No!" Tessa objected in a emphatic hiss.  She looked around to make sure she hadn't attracted any attention from the house's other occupants.  Now was not the moment for untimely interruptions.

   "Why not?"  Logan sounded bewildered by the strength of her objection.

   "I can trust you, right Logan?"

   "Of course you can.  You've got enough information and pictures from college and med school to blackmail me for years."

   "How comforting."  Tess bit a lip as she decided just how much to tell her friend.  "Ok, I can't say a lot right now, but I've got people looking for me, my patient, and possibly for the orphans I've taken in.  A private jet flying in from the US this soon after so much political unrest?  After a coup d'etat?  Why don't I just announce in the newspapers that where I can be found?"

   "Ok . . . then where do you want me to send the plane?"

   "First of all, are you really going to be able to do this?  Or are you saying you can and not checking with anyone to see if it's really possible?"

   "I'm hurt that you don't think that –"

   " – I don't think.  I'm running off of personal experience here, Logan.  Is this really doable?"

   "Yes.  I checked in with my boss last night after talking with your friend.  I thought that you might be able to talk him into coming up."

   "And you're sure –"

   "How many different ways do I need to say 'yes'?  Just tell me where you want to meet the plane.  You know the geography around there a bit better than I do."

   Tess sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose, a gesture left over from the days when she used to wear glasses.  "How 'bout Mazatlán?  It's a four hour drive at most from here, and it's a tourist trap.  There's wealthy Americans flying in all the time.  One more private jet won't look out of place."

Having settled most of the details about their departure with her friend, Tess got up to go check on Sands.  The last three times that she had looked into the bedroom, she had been relived to find him resting peacefully.  If only he'll sleep through this next talk I need to have, all will be well, and I can concentrate on getting him to go along with the plan.  Divide and conquer.  A house divided cannot stand.  I just need to settle things with Marcos.

   Leaving the open door of the bedroom, Tess went out into the living room and crooked her finger at Marcos.  He obediently got up from in front of the TV and came to her.  "What is it, señora Tessa?"

   "I need to talk to you about what we're going to do next."  The boy's face became serious much too quickly for Tessa's peace of heart.  It disturbed her to see so much concern in one so young.  But, that could be settled later; right now, she needed to discuss living arrangements with the boy.

   Marcos took a seat at the kitchen table while Tess got the cookie jar, two glasses, and the gallon of milk.  Setting everything down on the table, she took a seat across from Marcos.  She opened the jar and they both grabbed a cookie.  After taking her first bite and deciding just exactly what she was going to say, Tess began.  "Marcos, you know that I need to get your friend in there to safety, right?"  He nodded.  "Well, to do that, I'm going to need to take him back to the United States where a friend of mine is going to help him."

   "Another doctor?"

   "Yes.  One that specializes in . . . in eye injuries."

   "Can he help him?"

   "We both hope so, yes.  But that's not what I needed to talk to you about."  Marcos hung his head.  "Hey, don't do that to me.  It's alright to let me know what you're thinking."  Marcos still refused to look at her.  She knew he was afraid that she was abandoning them.  "Marcos, I need to know if there's any family that might be looking for you.  An aunt or uncle, cousins, grandparents?"

   Marcos shook his head.  "No, señora.  Mama and Papa were both only children and my grandparents died when I was a baby.  We don't have anyone else."

   Oh, the pain in his voice made tears come to Tessa's eyes.  She understood the feeling of having no one around to care for you all too well.  Reaching across the table, she took his hand in hers.  "Believe it or not, that makes things a bit easier for us to decide.  I know how much it hurts to be alone, and I'm not going to leave you alone.  I want you to help me decide how to care for you and your brother and sisters."  Marcos finally met her eyes.  "Now, we have three options.  I can alert the city government that you've been orphaned, and they will find a place for you somewhere.  That's the least attractive choice because they'll probably split you and your siblings up, and I know you don't want that to happen."  The boy shook his head.  "So we can eliminate that choice altogether, can't we?"

   "Sí, señora."

   "Ok.  Then here's your second option.  I take you and your sibling in, and I find a home for you here somewhere.  The downside to that is, I can't stay here.  Things are getting too dangerous for me here – people are going to be looking for me – so I'm going to go live in the United States.  The upside to this is, you'll all get to stay here in a culture that you know.  You'll be totally provided for, and I will find the best people to take care of you –"

   "No."

   "Are you sure, Marcos?"

   He nodded.  "We want to stay with you.  We know you."

   "But are you ready to move to another country?  Where there's another language, and customs, and holidays, and so much else?"

   "I've already started teaching Alma and René English."

   Tess nodded, having already figured that this was going to be his choice.  She wasn't sure that she was going to be able to be the parental figure that they needed, but she was willing to give it a try.  And once she was settled somewhere, she could find a nanny or something to help her out . . . a really nice housekeeper, perhaps.

   You realize you're taking on at least eighteen years of responsibility, right?  What makes you think you can last eighteen years?

   Even if I don't make it, I can at least make sure that they're provided for, that they're kept off the streets, that they're given more of a chance to succeed in life than other children in their position.  "Ok, Marcos, we have deal."  The youngster grinned ear to ear.  "There's just one thing I need you to agree to, ok?" 

   The boy looked at her, too content to even ask her what it was.  "Whatever it is, señora, I agree."

   Tess shook her head.  "I'm glad you do, because being called 'señora' constantly is making me feel old.  If we're going to live together, I need you to call me Tess or Tessa, ok?"

   Marcos looked shocked at the thought of addressing his elder in such a informal manner, but this was one point that Tess was not going to back down over.  She really did feel old every time one of the kids called her 'señora Tessa.'  "I can't."

   "Then what can you call me that isn't so formal?"

   The boy thought for a moment.

   "How about Aunt Tessa?"  Tess turned around in her chair to see Alma and René sitting against the wall.  They had managed to sneak close enough to overhear the entire conversation, and outspoken Alma had blurted the choice she thought was best.

   "We've never had an aunt before."  René volunteered, apparently approving of the name that his sister had come up with.  "I think you'd make a good aunt.  You're fun."

   Tess turned to see what Marcos thought.  Certainly, if the children would pretend to have some sort of familial relationship with her, it would make the charade she was about to attempt seem a bit more convincing.  Marcos simply nodded, but she could tell that he like the idea of having an aunt just as much as his brother and sister did.  "Okay, I suppose that will do.  Hey!  What –"  As soon as she had given her acceptance, the three children had jumped up and mobbed her.  As she accepted the hugs and laughs of three relieved children, she thought, If this is what I have to look forward to for the next eighteen years, then maybe I can do it.

   The voice in the back of her head seemed to say, We'll see about that.

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First off – much thanks for all who sent in quotes for me.  They've been printed out and added to what is quickly becoming my 'quote binder.'  If anyone else has ones they'd like to send me, I'd love to get it from you in an e-mail.  My address is see_captain_jack_run@hotmail.com

Quotes: unfortunately, I'm really not sure where most of my quotes in my chapter are from.  The first two . . . yeah no clue who said 'he who hesitates is lost,' or 'caution is the better part of valor.'  If you know, please fill me in so I can give credit where credit is due.  The quotes that came after that: David Russel, Ecclesiastes 9:11 (NIV), and Thoreau.

Author's Thanks: as always, many thanks you my loyal and faithful reviewers, Miss Becky, Lunatic, Logical Philosophy, and Ashley, my ever-so-helpful and encouraging beta.  (Truly, I wasn't sure whether or not I really even wanted to post this chapter.)

   Next thanks go to the new reviewers, who this time number TaraRose (glad you're enjoying rythmteck's fics.  She's one of my several heroes.) and liquidiamond (thanks so much for that quote.  I think I'll be able to use it sooner or later).

If you want to see your name here, all you have to do is review!  ^_^