Disclaimer: Still not mine, and let's assume from now on that we all know this.

Author's notes: I don't remember if Grace's dad was ever given a first name, so I'm naming him Scott. It's awkward to keep writing "the Rabbi" and "Grace's dad." I apologize if he already has a name and I've merely forgotten it.

Chapter 6

Grace's dad hugged her tight when she returned from the summer internship, and Grace knew he had missed her. She hugged him back.

For reasons she didn't acknowledge, Grace wondered if Luke missed her. She knew Joan and Adam did—Joan because she called far more than was necessary, and Adam because, well, he was Adam. You aren't friends for that long without knowing a guy.

And that's what puzzled Grace. She had known Adam so well for so long, and she was with Luke for all of two years (a rocky two years at that), but it was Luke she thought about. Grace was relieved she didn't believe in soulmates. Her soulmate would not be a scrawny geek with a normal life. She wouldn't stand for it.

Grace wondered if she had, in fact, taken a drink of the glass in front of her. Why else would she be thinking about soulmates? A little unsteadily, Grace leaned forward to look at her glass. Shit. She had taken more than a drink. Grace unceremoniously dumped the entire glass into the kitchen trashcan. Grace was thankful her dad wasn't home. She stumbled up the stairs and lay down on her bed.

xxxxx

After yet another night of restless sleep and haunting dreams she couldn't remember, Grace decided it was time to make some changes. Her junior year of college was starting in a week, and she couldn't continue like this.

Grace was going to have to talk to her dad.

xxxxx

Grace set her fork down, had a sip of water, took a deep breath, let it out and started the conversation.

"Dad, I need to know some stuff about Mom."

Grace's dad froze for a moment, hands still poised to cut a bite of chicken. He, too, took a deep breath.

"What do you want to know, Grace?"

"How did it start? When did you know? Why… Why didn't it get better?"

"I waited for years for you to ask these questions, Gracie," he said softly, "but I still don't know what to say."

"When did you realize she had a problem?"

"Do you remember your sixth birthday?" her dad asked.

Grace paused, then shook her head.

"You didn't have a party. She forgot it. That's when I realized there might be a problem. She had never missed your birthday before."

"She forgets a birthday, and you know she's alcoholic. Psychic, are we?"

"There were hints before that."

Grace waited for him to go on. He didn't.

"Dad," she said sharply, "what were the hints?"

"Did she ever tell you about her Aunt Michelle?"

Grace shook her head.

"You're grandmother's sister was an alcoholic. I never met her, but you're mom told me about her. Michelle used to baby-sit Mom before people realized she was sick. And that's what it is, Gracie, a sickness. Your mother didn't choose to do that to herself, to us. She was just sick."

"Why didn't she get better, then? Sick people get better."

"Not all of them get better."

"But a lot of them do."

"But your mother didn't."

"But, why?"

"Stop it, Grace. You're acting like a spoiled five year old. She was sick. I don't know why, she didn't know why, no will ever know why. There wasn't a reason. It just was."

"My mother has been a drunk since my sixth birthday, and you lecture me? No. I'm sorry, but this is a load a crap. Tell me about my mother," Grace demanded

"I loved your mother very much. She was beautiful and kind and funny and smart."

"Yes, because what beautiful, kind, funny, smart person doesn't turn to tequila?"

"You're mother was also insecure and afraid," he said, ignoring her comment. "She wasn't as strong as you are, Grace."

Grace inhaled sharply.

"I'm so proud of you, Gracie. I don't think I've told you this enough, but I am. You're amazing, honey," Scott said with fatherly pride.

"This conversation isn't about me," Grace snapped. "What were the hints?"

"When we were dating, we would sometimes go to parties. She would refuse to drink for most of the party, then suddenly down three glasses. It was amazing how fast she could drink. I used to be so confused."

Scott waited for Grace to say something. She didn't.

"And then," he continued painfully, "there was her refusal to keep alcohol in her home. She refused to let a drop of it in the house until you were five years old."

"When did you suspect anything?" Grace asked.

"It took me so long, Grace. I was in denial for so long."

"When did you suspect?"

"I didn't even think there was something wrong when I found her in the bathroom, weeping, because she… well, it doesn't matter. I missed the big hint."

"Tell me," Grace said softly. "I need to know everything. She was my mother."

Scott blinked, almost as if there were tears in his eyes.

"After I proposed, we decided that we would have three children. We figured three kids would guarantee us both a boy and a girl. We wanted both."

Grace didn't move. She wasn't sure if she would like where this was going.

"So, anyway, after we had been married a year," Scott continued shakily, "I asked her if she was ready to start the family. She said no. I was shocked. I had thought she was as excited as I was to have kids. Over the next two years, I asked her three times if she was ready to start a family. Each time she said she wasn't ready." The words were coming out faster now. Scott almost looked relieved that he could share this with someone. "Finally, I exploded. I begged her to be ready, told her we had to start before we were too old. She sat quietly during my rant, and we pretty much ignored each other for a week. Then I found her crying in the bathroom."

There was a pause as father and daughter looked at each other.

"She told me that she was scared," her dad said. "She didn't want to become Michelle. She was crying so hard, and clutching a bath towel like it was all she had. It… she just… I didn't know what to do, Gracie, I didn't. I had no idea what she was talking about; your mom had never told me about Michelle. I asked her, and she just cried harder. And then, I…"

This is when he started crying. Only a few tears escaped, though, and Scott continued his story.

"I didn't know what was going on and I left her. I just left her, sitting in the bathroom, clutching a stupid yellow towel and crying. I was too angry to try to understand. She wasn't following our plan and I wanted kids. I was furious."

"She didn't want me?" Grace asked.

"Oh, no, Gracie, no that wasn't it," Scott said, horrified, "she was afraid of hurting you. That night at dinner she explained it all to me. She told me about her aunt, and how easy it would be for her to forget everything by drinking. She was afraid she would become an alcoholic, and hurt her kids. She wanted to be the perfect mother."

"Looks like her fears may have been correct," Grace whispered.

"Yes, it does," Scott agreed, "but I didn't know that at the time. I thought she was being silly, and I told her so. I convinced her that she would never become her aunt, that she would be an excellent mother. She believed me after awhile, and a year later, you were born."

Father and daughter ate quietly, lost in thought.

"Where are my little siblings, then?" Grace asked. "You said you wanted three kids."

"I did," Scott said, "but by the time you were three years old, and the timing was right to have another child, I had started to wonder. Your mother would disappear sometimes, and never tell me where she was. At first, I thought she was having an affair, but then I noticed the liquor bottles in our trashcans behind the garage. They were never in the trashcans inside the house, though. I didn't say anything to her, but decided I would have to watch her. I asked her if she wanted to stop with one child, and she agreed."

There was a long pause as Grace digested the information.

"Dad," Grace said as she got up to leave, "thank you for fighting for me, and thank you for giving up the fight after me."

"You're welcome," he told the empty chair.

xxxxx

xxxxx

More Author's Notes: I was just looking over my last chapter, and I realized I named one of the characters Iris, and, as I now remember, there has already been an annoying Iris on the show. There was no need for another. It was just a freak coincidence that I used the name Iris. I wasn't trying to hint at something or anything like that. My apologies.

Thank you all SO much for reading this! I love you all—even those of you who don't review. (And in my happy land called Denial, there are a lot of people reading this, but not reviewing. Don't worry, though, I'm not going to beg you to start now; I myself am guilty of reading more than I review.)

One last thing: WHY DID THEY CANCEL JOAN OF ARCADIA? WHY, IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, WHY? Sorry, just had to get that off my chest. I'll shut up now, and start working on chapter 7. I, unlike CBS, don't give up half-way through a project.