Part VIII
Diane's POV

Today is Monday.

I work on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. A sitter comes to pick the kids up at the bus and watches them for the hour until I get home. I did not go to work today. Everything inside me rebelled. I wanted to work—there was important stuff for me to do. But I could not force myself to leave the house. Something screamed to me that Max and Isabel would need me. A mother's instinct I said to Philip. He snorted—Philip does not believe in a sixth sense that all mothers possess. But he only laughed lightly at my whim—he generally humors me. Ordinarily it annoys me. Today it didn't—I was more annoyed with myself. Foolishness, really.

But I stayed home.

My children brought home friends today.

So, you might say. What is so unusual about that? All I can say is that you don't know Max and Isabel. Isabel is wildly popular and has tons of friends—but they don't come to our house unless it's for a party or there's more than one. She's never brought over just one little girl. Max brings Michael. No one else—I worry sometimes that Max doesn't socialize enough. But today, they brought Michael Guerin (He's over all the time, practically a third child), Kyle Valenti and the little girl from the picture Michael drew at Christmas.

Yes. The girl. The one they called the fourth. The one with sunshine hair and ocean eyes. The one who's face is a heart, whose face is love. She was holding Max's hand as they practically danced up the driveway. Michael and Isabel were right behind them. Isabel was skipping, and giggling.

SO, you might say again. Ten-year-old girls giggle. All I can say is that Isabel does not. She sneers, she laughs politely, but she never, ever giggles. Somehow she is too old for that.

Behind the two sets of two Kyle Valenti was dragging his feet, kicking at a rock and scowling.

I took it all in, in an instant. I hurried away from the door to the den, where I sank onto the couch, trying to get a hold of myself. I managed well enough, and when the door opened I called a cheerful hello.

The kids were surprised to see me. It is Monday. But surprised didn't mean unhappy. Isabel gave me the sunniest smile I've ever seen on her face. And I mean that. Isabel's smiles (real smiles, not model smile for the camera smiles) are far between. And even when she does smile, there's always this trace of guilt.

It's the same way with Max, but deeper. Sometimes I've wondered if I ever saw a real smile from him. After today, I know. I have seen his real smile, and it was all for a sprightly little girl with golden curls.

It hurts a little, that he never really smiled at me. But now there is time, because both of—no, all of my children are filled with joy. Michael was suspicious as ever, but there was a pleased air to his smirk. And the carefree way he clasped Izzy's hand was revealing.

The only 'downer' was Kyle. The child was positively miserable! He resented Max's hand in the girl's. He resented being the outsider, the follower. I think he resented being at our house—I mean, good heavens, he's been here once, maybe twice when Jim had to report something urgent to Philip about one of our clients. The last time Jim was here—Lord, I don't even remember when.

Max brought the girl forward, holding her tightly. She looked frightened, as if she would bolt. Isabel stepped forward and said, "Mom, this is Tess."

Max was talking to her in the voice he's cultivated for Michael—pitched low, reassuring. Even a little pleading. Michael came forward to take her hand, and whispered in her other ear. She eventually broke into a pale imitation of the smile that had wreathed her face before I scared her. "The Valenti's are adopting me like you adopted Max and Izzy." Her voice was shy, childish, yet in it I recognized some of the lilting inflection Isabel used. "That's Kyle." She pointed to the miserable boy, who was doing his best to hide. "He's going to be my brother." She said proudly, and under it I heard a little bit of challenge.

Max has not always gotten along with Kyle. Neither has Michael Guerin. Isabel bases her opinions on the world and the male species in particular on their judgment. She has always treated Kyle with something between mild disdain and contempt.

Michael took up the challenge. "Are you going to protect her every second we can't?" He demanded. He dropped Tess' hand and backed Kyle against the wall.

"Of course." Kyle gave a little shove. "I'll take care of her better than you. You aren't family."

Tess dropped Max's hand and jumped between Michael and Kyle. "Don't fight!" She said with every ounce of command that I've heard Isabel put into her voice on occasion.

The boys stepped apart. Isabel grabbed Tess' hand. "Let's go upstairs. I'll show you some stuff you can do with your hair that would be really pretty."

Tess looked loathe to leave Max. He touched her hand, and seemed to reassure her. The girls whirled upstairs, without a word from me. As soon as they were gone, Kyle and Michael began to wrestle. Max looked annoyed. He sent me back to my legal work. Amazing, isn't it? Only ten-years-old, and as commanding as Philip. I laughed a little, and told him just to ask if he needed something. I went back, and took Michael's picture off the wall to puzzle over it now that I had seen the girl.

I put it down, and saw that Max was pouring sodas. He had a bottle of tabasco sauce out, and was pouring it into one of the sodas. I jumped up to stop him from giving it to Kyle, but he drank it himself. I made a face. How could he do that? It was really disgusting. But Isabel stopped my musings. She called me upstairs to help her with Tess' hair.

When I walked into Isabel's painfully clean bedroom, the first thing I saw was Tess. She looked like she'd been severely punished. Isabel had her hair pulled back so tightly her skin was stretched taught. Isabel was chattering a mile a minute and applying every cosmetic I knew she owned—and a few I did not know about.

Poor little Tess looked downright pitiable as Isabel fussed over her curls. Her hair was thick, fair, and had a lovely wavy curl through it. But hair is not meant to stay on top of a little girl's head, and it fell around her face in straggly locks that Isabel worked to fix. She took the hair falling out of pins as a personal affront. I stopped the process when I realized poor Tess had had all she could take.

Mascara coated her lashes, and shadow was brushed across the lids. Lipstick was on her top lip, but not her bottom. Blush was dark on one cheek, and not so dark on the other. "Isabel, honey, maybe Tess doesn't want to play Barbie doll any more." I suggested, thinking that Isabel really was treating Tess like a really large doll.

Tess looked startled. "Oh, I'm not a Barbie, Mrs. Evans. I'm not tall enough."

Her logic was impeccable. I told the girls that the boys were having soda and popcorn, would they like some?

Isabel told me to sit down. She said they needed my help to plan some things. Tess wiped off the makeup, returning to her dewy complexion. Isabel prompted Tess. Tess informed me, with all the seriousness that Max so often has, that she was going to marry Max. They wanted me to help plan the wedding.

It was all I could do not to laugh heartily at them. Sweet children, only children, who couldn't understand what marriage is about. I was so busy reigning in my amusement that I did not hear all of what Isabel said. I only heard, "It's destiny. And of course it can't happen until we're grown up."

I nodded. "Of course."

Tess looked at me appraisingly, taking in the amusement and doubt I wanted to conceal. "I am going to marry Max some day, Mrs. Evans." She said softly. There was repressed longing in her tone. "When that happens Isabel will be my sister. Will you be my mother the way you are Michael's?"

"What?" I said, unnerved.

"You are all Michael has. You're the only adult he knows that is good."

I was touched, and I felt like I was strangling. But I said only, "And you Tess? DO you know good adults?"

"The Sheriff is good. The kind of good that comes from stories."

"Is that it?" I wonder, thinking that Jim might be the only man who has ever shown her kindness.

"Mrs. Deluca is good in her way. A little crazy and a lot stressed, but really good under it. The lady at The Crashdown had good intentions, but she was too weak to act on them all the time. Michael trusts you. You must be super good. He doesn't trust a lot."

I accept the compliment with a smile, but inwardly I frown. Philosophy from a ten-year-old? I'm not even going to try to tell Philip about this. When he asks how my day was I'll tell him I got paper work done, watched Days of Our Lives, listened to music, and met the kid's new friend.

I help her with the pins. Her scalp is tender and I know I must be hurting her by taking out the pins Isabel has wedged into her hair, but she voices no complaints. She sits, with a little half smile on her face. When Isabel runs to get another brush, she says, "I'm going to go away soon."

"What?" I say. "The Valentis are adopting you, I'm sure you'll be here in Roswell for a long time."

"They want to adopt me." She says, and a touch of sadness has slipped into her eyes. "I love Max. I know you won't understand. But They're coming for me, and They can not, They must not find Max, or Michael, or Isabel."

I am bewildered.

Her eyes meet mine in the mirror, and I know I am not speaking to a little girl. "You must keep strangers away. They could be anywhere."

I stare.

She frowns fiercely. "Promise me! Promise you'll take care of Max for me. Isabel and Michael have each other, and you don't need to be told to look at them. You will anyway, but my Max is so quiet, I worry that he'll fall into the background. Don't let quietness distract you too much." She warns, with eyes that are older than this girl.

"I promise." I say to her, and the words are drawn from my soul. They are my truth now. "I will protect them."

"The Sheriff and Kyle have Amy and Maria—Kyle's probably going to be stupid and ga-ga over Elizabeth Parker. That's okay, as long as it's just a phase. If you think he's getting too serious, would you remind him whose care bear he drowned in kindergarten?"

I frown. This child talks as if she's going far and long. "What about Max? He'll wonder where you've gone."

"Tell him I have to make sure it's safe before forever starts." She blinks hard. "I'll come back, when it's all over. When the dark mirror is true again."

Dark mirror? What on earth does that mean. I ask.

She can not tell me. She says only, "Tell the Sheriff I'm not going because I want to, I'm going to protect everyone."

She's ten. This has to be a hoax. "Where are you going Tess?" I ask.

"I don't know yet." She says. "But when I get there I will have Max's face in my heart. And I will bring Isabel and Michael with me, because they are part of me too."

I shiver. "You're frightening me."

"Don't worry." She says sadly. "You won't remember this. Not until you need to, maybe not ever."

She closes her eyes, and then Isabel is in the room again and I am teasing her about not being able to find the "No More Tangles, No More Tears" solution. I have the oddest feeling that I am missing something, something vital. The girl Tess has not said anything since she told me she would marry Max someday.

PS: Questions? Comments? Suggestions for making it better? Complaints about where the story is heading? Leave it all here.

Yes, Tess mindwarped Diane. I'm using it like hypnosis. Diane won't consciously remember, but Tess placed triggers there so that Diane can give the information.