I cannot describe accurately enough for my own good, or the good of the members of my family, how hard the days and weeks were after Sasha's death and our finding out that Mikey was the father of Carly's baby as well as Kath's. Both Bosco and myself were at a loss for words over how our eldest son could be so cruel, so roguish and unkind. We both walked around in a state of shock and anger, which was completely intensified by the hurt surrounding Sasha's untimely death.

It was hard for me to face up to the fact that my son was capable of such betrayal, and against his own brother! Bosco was outraged, although he didn't say anything to let on how much. He was stunned and angry to have to be put in the position of dealing with the mess Mikey had made. And although I knew he had some nasty words over the phone with Mikey, he knew he had to see him face to face and I knew that he was dreading the real confrontation. How did you go about dealing with one son who so monumentally wounded the other? To feel bad for and try and comfort one would be to admit that the other had been in the wrong and that we were taking sides. It didn't matter which way we turned. We were still hurting one of our children.

In a matter of days, it seemed that our world, the world we knew and depended on, was turned upside down and inside out. I wracked my brain for hours on end as to the how's and why's behind it all. Sitting cross legged on my sectional couch in my red flannel pajamas, hair undone and messy, I sat staring at the wall for long periods of time, forgetting to eat, to get dressed, and sometimes, to even breathe. As he had done for many years, Bosco was the one to take care of me and did it without complaint. Always, when he would come upon me in my comatose state, he would take the throw blanket off the back of the couch and drape it around my shoulders and sigh.

' Faith, it's gonna get better.' He'd say softly, but unsure. Even he didn't know how our family was going to come out of this battle field unwounded, unscathed. How could we?

I took no calls. I spoke to no one other than my husband. I refused to talk to Mike or Brett, both of which had been calling. Carly had decided to take some time off of work, which was easy enough for her to do considering she owned her own business and had competent people working under her, to take care of her father. She had called a couple of times and asked to speak to me. Each time, Bosco would look over at me, mutely asking me with his eyes if I would relent and speak to her and I would shake my head. No. It was too soon.

' Not yet, Carly. Not yet.' Was all he would say.

Ty had taken his wife's death harder than any of us had ever imagined he would. He had lost about ten pounds in a few short weeks, weeks that were filled with crying and heart wrenching discoveries about his only daughter, which he didn't seem to be able to handle. Who could handle this?

Ty, who had always been a very even tempered man, was now on the verge of having an emotional breakdown, as I'm sure, most of the rest of us were. He was angry, he was sad. He couldn't tell one day from the other, not caring either way about himself or anything other than coping with the fact that he had lost his wife. He sat in the house and poured over photo albums and drank glass after glass of scotch. He was moody, depressed, and who could blame him? I hadn't taken enough time to think about him in those dark days and hours. I felt bad for not being there for him, but Bosco more than made up for it.

He made frequent trips to the Davis household to visit Ty and give Carly a break to go lie down or just to be alone. He would spend hours with his best friend, talking or not talking, just sitting side by side on Ty's old warn out sofa, looking at the wall, hurting so much neither of them could speak. Other times, he would come home dead drunk in a cab because they spent the whole day drinking and reminiscing. But they were together and that's what counted.

My strong, hold-it-together husband would come home after some of those visits, worn down and just as woebegone as his best friend, and go outside and work in his garage, building something that had little or no importance, but something to take his mind off of the present. More than once, I would find him out there late into the night, sitting on the stool by the workbench, tears of frustration dripping down his chin. As soon as he saw me, his brave facade took over and he wiped those tears away, as if he was ashamed for letting me that side of himself. He was trying so hard to keep it together, to be the brave one, that he was wearing himself thin. I knew he was out there thinking about our dear friend and Mikey and Brett and Carly, crying for what had happened, for their lack of respect for the sanctity of marriage and that poor little baby who never asked to be put in the middle of the adult mess they had made. Sasha's passing had made it all the more hard for him to cope. For all of us.

I knew that Bosco was as angry as I about Carly being pregnant with Mikey's baby, but I sensed that they had come to some kind of truce with their common goal of looking after Ty and loving him so much. Bosco had truly began to show me that he could handle just about anything. In truth, he was becoming much better at handling these situations that I ever could have been. He never spoke out of turn to Carly, never asked how this could have happened. He always spoke politely to her, respectfully, but with a certain amount of separation, for he too, was very hurt.

But the long and short of it, as he would say, was that Carly Davis was pregnant with our son's baby, the wrong son, but our son, nevertheless. She was our daughter-in-law and she had an affair with her husband's brother and he had made her pregnant. I wondered just how long they had been married and if Brett knew that it was his own brother who betrayed him. I suspected that he had known and that was his reason for not coming to Sasha's funeral all along.

As curious as I was to know all of the sordid details, I couldn't bring myself to pick up the phone and call anyone. It was as if I were standing before a roaring fire, the glowing flames licking and hissing at me, taunting me to touch them and be burned. I knew that when I found out the reasons behind this heinous betrayal I would be forever burned...but I still needed to know and would find out whether I wanted to or not. I fought with myself, one half of me demanded to know the truth, the other half, the half that was cautious and afraid, wouldn't let me do that to myself quite yet.

But, as we all have to learn sooner or later, fate does the deciding for us. Never, never letting us chose when or where or why. Cruel fate, who thrived on controversy and pain, who controlled our destinies with a delicious sense of power and authority, always did what he wanted to in the end.

And so, my fate, my destiny with the truth came upon me one morning when I had dragged myself out of bed and downstairs to drink a cup of coffee, in the form of a knock at the door. It always came at my door, not caring enough to respect my sense of privacy, my safe haven, letting itself in when it was wanted the least.

I had just put the kettle on my stainless steel stove and turned the burner on high. I shuffled over to the island in the middle of the room and plopped down to read the morning newspaper. I opened it to the entertainment section and read my horoscope.

'Face your problems head on or they will come to you...' I groaned and looked up at the ceiling, then read on.

' Today, get out there and clear up a misunderstanding that is eating you up. You'll feel much better.'

I scoffed, not amused by this ridiculousness. ' Feel better? Ya. Right.'

The kettle screamed and hissed, impatient for me to take it from the burning steel. I tossed the paper aside, no longer interested and went over to the stove. I grabbed my favorite mug and poured the hot water inside. As I was mixing my sugar and cream, a knock sounded on the back door.

No one ever came to my back door. I leaned back and tried to see through the small side window by the back porch, but couldn't tell who it was. More curious than anything else, I walked over to the back door and moved the curtain a tiny bit to the left to try and peek through.

It was Carly. She was shivering from the terrible cold day it was and probably from nervousness. She knew I didn't want to see her and had nothing to say at the moment, but she came anyway.

'Faith, please let me in. I have to talk to you.' She pleaded, her arms crossed over in front of her in an attempt to keep warm. She was wearing a red down filled Ralph Lauren jacket with a furry hood and a matching red cap and a bright green scarf. She also had on a pair of jeans and hiking boots. Still stunning, was she, even though she never dressed 'down' very often. Carly was one to wear dressy business suits and skirts even if she was uncomfortable.

I stood there a moment contemplating my situation. She had seen me and she knew I was standing a less than a foot away behind my closed door. I didn't want to let her in, but I did. Another war was going on inside me. My heart was thumping and I was starting to sweat, my palms clammy.

There was a time when I loved Carly as much as my own daughter but now, things were twisted and turned and marred. I still loved her, yes, but I was so hurt by what she and Mikey had done that I didn't trust myself to speak to her. I was afraid of what I'd say. The lines beyond friendship and love were betrayal and disappointment. She had earned both. But she was carrying my grandchild, my second grandchild and could I really afford to scream and yell at her as I wanted to, knowing all that she had been through in the past few weeks and could tell me to go to hell? What if I never got to see that grandchild? What if she took he or she far away? I doubted very much that Mikey would own up to his responsibility, considering what he had said to Kath.

In one swift motion, before I could change my mind, I snapped back the lock and turned the doorknob.

Carly's eyes brightened immediately, although she didn't dare smile. She looked kind of dazed and sorrowful and sheepish. Like a child who had come home to it's mother from being somewhere it wasn't supposed to be and knew that it would bring on mother's wrath.

'Hello.' Damn, I saw so much of Sasha in her it brought tears to my eyes. My beautiful dead friend.

'Hi Faith.' She said, her voice barely above a whisper.

I liked my lips and wiped my sweaty palms on my pajama pants. This was going to be really tough.

'Come in.'

'Thanks.'

She followed me into the room, taking her coat off and hanging it on one of the chairs, carefully. She smoothed down the ruffled fabric, as if the down filled sleeves were rebelling against her wishes, then stood and stared at me, afraid to invite herself to sit down.

'Have a seat.' I said, holding my arm out toward the island while I busied myself by getting another coffee mug.

She nodded and took a deep breath before taking her stool of choice and sitting down. She ran her hands along her dark hair, which she was wearing down, reaching her shoulder blades in curly ringlets.

'Coffee?'

'Please.'

'Cream and sugar?'

'Please.'

The overly politeness of the conversation was making my nerve endings twang in irritation. We were being so careful and so cautious, it made me feel sick to my stomach. In our family we always talked about everything with no abandon, no pleasantries, just strait talk. Either you liked it or you didn't, and when you lived with a man like Bosco and his two sons, politeness seemed to fly out the window.

I picked up both mugs and made my way over to the island, not meeting her gaze, and sat down.

'Thank you.'

'You're welcome.'

We both took big sips of the coffee trying to fortify ourselves for what was to come. Finally, out of sheer uncomfort, we both spoke at the same time.

'Carly..'

'Faith, I...'

'I'm sorry. You go.' I said, as I exhaled a nervous breath. 'Seems it should be easier to talk to your own daughter-in-law.' I said sadly, realizing it was the first time I had ever said those words to her, or to anyone, for that matter.

She looked away for a moment, guilt stricken, her beautiful face ashen, before she spoke in a low voice. ' I'm sorry about not telling you sooner and I'm sorry for the way you found out about the baby...you don't know how much I wish I could take it back. I'm sorry about a lot of things and I know I can't make it right for you...for any of us...but I'd like to try.'

I opened my mouth and she shook her head. 'Please let me explain some things to you and then you can decide to hate me or to forgive me, and I do hope that you'll forgive me, Faith.'

I stared at her non-committally. I couldn't say a word.

'Brett and I knew we were in love from the time we graduated high school and went to College but we knew that you and Bosco and my parents wouldn't let us stay at the same apartment if you knew that we were lovers and not just good friends. I was so scared being in the city and I don't know if I could have stayed there if he hadn't been by my side, Faith. He was my strength and my shield from everything that went wrong. He was so handsome and confident and he always made me feel stronger than I was.'

I blanched. She was talking about my son as if he was part of her past, dead and gone. 'Was?'

'I...oh...I didn't mean that the way it sounded...sorry...anyway, we just got so that we became a part of each other, lived and breathed for one another and soon we just knew that we wanted to be together forever. At first, we were so happy, him at Harvard and me at Boston Bay. We studied together and helped each other with our projects and stuff...we hardly ever went out except to go to the Library. And when he got his part time teaching job, I didn't think we'd ever be happier. Then I got the shop open and we were doing better than either of us imagined. We got a bigger apartment, had more money than we knew what to do with and we loved each other so much. We drank wine in the evenings and listened to romantic music. On Sunday's we'd go to church and then out for a wonderful lunch and then we'd walk around campus and mingle with all of the students. They all worshiped him and never stopped asking him to their apartments or dorm rooms to chat or discuss literature. He even got invitations to beach houses in Florida time after time from his professors or other students he had met. Even married women would practically swoon over him the minute he entered a room. He had a magic that was rare and sought after by so many people, Faith. He was like a profit to them. Everyone loved him. Sometimes I thought they loved him too much.' She admitted, hanging her head.

What was she trying to tell me? That Brett was a rogue? That the attention he had received from one too many female admirers had driven her into the arms of another man? Of his own brother? I prepared myself for what I thought was to come. I took another long sip of my coffee wishing that I had put something a little extra in.

'We eloped over spring break one year, the time we went to Florida...' She was speaking so fast I could hardly keep up with her.

And then it occurred to me that she was telling me that she and Brett had not just gotten married a short time ago...she was talking about at least three years back...it couldn't be...they couldn't have hid something like that for more than three years...Dear God...it couldn't be true...but when I had asked Brett how long they had been together, he had told me...only he had told me how long they'd actually been married! Not how long they had been dating! The realization almost put me off of the stool, but instead, the hot coffee I had sucked between my lips was spit out of my mouth and landed on everything.

'What? Are you telling me that you've been married for three years?' I nearly gaged on my own tongue getting the words out.

'Yes...we.'

'Three years! And you never once thought to yourself that maybe your family would like to know? That maybe our family would have liked to be included in that?' I shrilled at her. She seemed to shrink in size as I directed my hurt words at her. She actually cringed in her seat.

'Faith...it wasn't my idea...it was Brett's.'

'I don't care whose idea it was! For the love of God, Carly, how could you two do such a thing?'

'Please listen to me...please just let me get it out...' She pleaded.

I shut my mouth and stared at her as if I'd never seen her before, my eyes bulging, my heart racing at the news. Three years.

'It was great up until about a year ago, when he started drinking a lot and staying out all night. He usually got asked to stay after class or to go to this little pub that the students hang out at and he just started to go all the time. I didn't know what to think and I questioned him about it and he never would say for sure. But the bills stared piling up and then the calls started to come. The bills I thought he paid, the ones he always took care of, were not getting paid at all.'

I frowned. Brett had always been good about bills and money. He always paid his debts...or so I had thought. I realized that Carly knew my son far better than I could ever hope to and it that alone, I should have been grateful, for she would be the link between us.

'What was he doing with the money?' I questioned angrily.

Her eyes began to water, real pain and sorrow for the man she loved. 'He...he...he has a gambling problem and he spent almost ten thousand dollars of our money in the last year alone...I don't know about before that...but when I looked back at how much we made and added up the numbers...and realized that we were in the red...I confronted him.' She admitted.

I sat back and crossed my arms over my breasts, aghast. 'Aguhhhh! You're saying that he spent a quarter of his yearly paycheck on gambling?' I threw my arms up in the air in defeat.

Her tears spilled forth and she brushed them away impatiently. I reached for a kleenex and handed it to her. 'Carly, how could you keep this a secret for so long?' I asked incredulously, almost numb from the pain of hearing it.

'He said that it was our problem...no one else's...and when he drinks a lot...sometimes he gets...really angry...and it's scary.' She said in a whisper.

'Carly, what do you mean 'scary'? I asked in a deadly low voice, my anger now turning to fear. I was so afraid that she was going to tell me that he hit her...please God...don't let me hear it...

'He throws things...breaks stuff...like lamps and dishes and I called Mike one time because I knew that he and Kath were in Boston to see James Taylor play at the Opera House and we had seen them earlier that afternoon and gone to Quincy Market with them to shop around...and he came over right away. He and Brett had a terrible fight and Brett left...and I was so upset...and the apartment was almost wrecked.'

No...this was something entirely different...she was going to tell me about that night...and I didn't want to hear it.

'We were both drinking a lot and I accused him of blowing all of our money at the underground casino and the slot machines...and he just lost it...we had finished dinner and I thought the only way I could get up the courage to speak to him about it was if I was feeling pretty good myself...and he got so mad that he smashed the french doors that lead into our bedroom and threatened to throw me off of the balcony if I said any more about it...honestly, Faith, I was so scared...I didn't know what else to do.' She said as seriously as I'd ever seen her.

'He said that? That he would throw you over the balcony?' My voice had turned thin and hollow. I didn't know what to say anymore. 'So, how did you happen to fall in bed with Mikey?'

This time, it was her turn to blanche, not failing to hear the sarcasm in my voice or the implication.

'As I told you, he came over to help me with Brett and after Brett ran out he stayed to help me clean up. I was really drunk and very upset. He hugged me and held me close. He's a cop! He made me feel safe.' she reasoned.

' He told me he'd stay the night so that if Brett came back he'd be there to make sure everything was ok. He called Kath and told her he was staying and he was fine with it. We drank another bottle or wine to calm down and before I knew it he was kissing me and telling me that he had been in love with me for years...I didn't resist, I couldn't. It all happened so fast that by the time it was over, it felt like it had never happened. I put it out of my mind until I realized I was late for my period'. She said, as if that could possibly explain it all.

' And you confronted him? Did Brett know that Mike had slept with you?'

She bowed her head in shame. ' I told him right after Christmas. I was too afraid to tell him when he was around his family...he gets so out of control...but he knew that I was pregnant and that he wasn't the father.'

I leaned forward and looked at her pointedly. ' Carly, I'm only going to ask you this one time. Only one...did my son ever hit you?'

She gulped down some air, seeming suddenly afraid. ' No. He never laid a hand on me. He just screams and breaks stuff and that's about it.'

But something in the way she spoke to me, her eyes, the tone of her voice, told me that she was lying. There was so much going on with my family that I couldn't possibly understand or fathom, but I knew that sooner or later there would be a showdown between Brett and Mike. I knew that things would never be the same between them again.

I just prayed that we had the strength to deal with whatever came our way.

TBC