Author's Note: I am not stereo-typing Canadians... I am one, and we really do say Eh!!

Sara sat down against the wall and closed her eyes. Luke had said she could stay at his place tonight but she felt funny being there. Opening her eyes Sara looked around the small apartment and laughed. Everything in the apartment was exactly where it should be, not a single thing was out of order. She never thought of Luke as such a neat-freak before.
Standing up she walked over to the other side of the apartment where a door was ajar. Opening it wider she realized it was just a closet and began to close it when something caught her eye. Reaching above her she pulled the cord to turn the light on. In front of her, leaning against the wall sat a guitar. "I didn't realize he played," she whispered, picking it up. As she did so something fell from between the strings. Leaning down she picked up the photograph that was lying face down.
Turning it over she saw a woman holding what appeared to be the guitar Sara was holding now. Looking closely she felt there was something familiar about this woman.
"My mother." Sara jumped when she heard a voice from behind her. Turning around she saw Luke.
"I'm sorry," Sara said. "I didn't mean to snoop." Luke laughed.
"Don't worry about it," Luke told her. "You didn't find anything incriminating, did you?" Sara shook her head.
"All I saw was this beautiful guitar," she told him. "And this picture that was with it." Luke nodded.
"The picture is, as I said, my mother," he told her. "The guitar was hers. I got after... after she died."
"Oh Luke," Sara whispered. "I'm sorry."
"Don't worry about it," Luke said. "It was a long time ago." He reached out and took the guitar.
"You look a lot like your mother," Sara said. Luke gave her a skeptical look. "I mean, you're a man obviously, but you have the same eyes." Luke laughed.
"You're not the first one to say I've got my mother in me." Looking down at the guitar he sighed. "Quite the compliment really, I don't deserve it."
"She must have been a wonderful woman, eh?" Sara asked. Luke looked up.
"Eh?" he repeated, trying to change the subject. "Rory said you were in Canada, picked up on the lingo huh?" Sara shrugged.
"I guess I did," she said, walking over to the table and sitting down.
"So what was Canada like?" Luke asked, taking a seat opposite her and leaning the guitar against the table. "I've always wanted to take a trip up there and go coast to coast."
Sara looked at him and nodded. "That would be amazing," she said breathlessly. "It's so beautiful there. Especially where I was."
"Where was that?" Luke asked.
"Vancouver Island in BC," she told him. "Pretty much as far west as you can get in Canada. I attended a nice university there for a short time."
"Why there?" Sara shrugged.
"I wanted to get away from everything," she told him. "Darlene and James refused to talk to me because..." she trailed off.
"Because of what?" Luke asked but Sara shook his head.
"It's not important," she told him. "Anyways, I just broke up with yet another guy who was beating me and I had a bit of money saved. Figured my US dollar would go further in Canada so I took a chance and went there."
"Why'd you come back to the States if that's why you left?" Luke asked.
"Because running away didn't solve any problems," Sara said. "Besides, I got accepted to Yale, I wasn't about to let that opportunity slip by." Her eyes began to burn with tears and she looked down at her hands. "Guess it'll have to now though." Luke scooted his chair next to her and held out his arm. Collapsing against him Sara began to cry.
"Sara, you don't have to tell me everything," Luke whispered. "But if you want to talk about this I'm here for you." Sara looked up into his face.
"Why do you care about me?" Sara asked. Luke sighed.
"Honestly?" he asked. She nodded. "Honestly I don't know," Luke told her. "The day I met you, I had to help you. You were a helpless six year-old who was bleeding, who wouldn't help you? Then when you were twelve... hell Sara you were gonna kill yourself, what was I supposed to do?"
Sara looked at him a moment. "And now?" she asked. "Now I'm not so helpless, and my life isn't in danger."
"But you still need someone," Luke said, then laughed. "You seem to be a lot like me, and I have trouble opening up to anyone. I figure it's not their business... but I also know how much it would help. If you're willing to open up to me then Sara I want to help you."
Sara just sat there looking at him, not sure what to say. Finally Luke broke the silence. "How important is music to you?"
"What?" Sara asked, a little taken back by the question.
"How important is music to you?" Luke repeated. Sara slowly let out her breath and shrugged.
"It's my life," she whispered. "I've always loved to sing, but the day you gave me that guitar was the day I realized how important it was to me. I put everything into my music. It gets me through the good and bad times." Luke nodded.
"So the guitar played a part in it?" he asked. Sara nodded quickly.
"It certainly did," she told him. "If you never gave me that guitar I can't imagine how I would have gotten through the last few years. And I definitely wouldn't be the person I am today," she added.
"What do you mean?"
"Growing up I would sing whatever I wanted to sing, but when I started to learn guitar I began to play mostly country," she told him. "Over time country was more than just a genre of music for me, it became a way of life. You understand yourself a little better when you're country. You understand God and life more to.
"It's the one type of music that accepts everything. You can sing about the love of your life or you can sing about an abusive father, anything you want because country songs are about life. When I came to realize that, everything I have gone through became song after song, and not all of it was as sad as I thought it would have been. It made me realize that I have had things tough, but I wasn't as bad off as it could seem. That helped me later in life, when I felt like getting down on myself I'd just pull out my guitar and play whatever songs came to my head. I think in the end realizing that others could have it worst then me, and realizing what could get me through the hard times helped make me a better person." She looked up at Luke then to see his eyes were red. "Are you cry?" she asked. "Why?"
He looked at her and smiled. "I helped make you that better person."