The monotonous rhythm of the porch swing's back and forth motion was hypnotic, and Amy found herself lost in it, in the warmth of the breeze caressing her cheeks, tossing occasional wisps of blonde hair against her mouth. The brilliant sparks of sunlight off the water in the near distance and the burden of thoughts too heavy for such a pleasant spring afternoon were all that kept her from dozing off.

When the screen door squeaked open on its rusty hinges, she kept her eyes half-focused on the dazzling play of sunlight on the creek, refusing to look at him, afraid he might be able to read her mind. He sat down next to her on the swing. She could feel the weight of his eyes on her but didn't know what he expected her to say. So she said nothing. The silence spun out between them. She knew he would break it first, and he did.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I've been acting like a jerk."

She didn't answer, and he took that as a cue to go on.

"You're allowed to agree with me, you know. I've been a jerk, and I think it's a unanimous assessment. I know Doug thinks so. I think so. And I'm sure you do too. At least I hope you realize it's been me and not you. You know that, right? Amy?"

She managed a nod.

"Good. Because I don't want you to feel guilty about any of this. None of it is your fault, not by a long shot. There's no excuse for my making you feel that way when you're going through something that must be so difficult and confusing. I should have been supporting you, not giving you grief even if it's just because I'm scared for you." He took a deep breath. "So what do you say, will you forgive me?"

She finally tore her gaze from the water and looked at her dad. It crossed her mind to say "Only if you'll forgive me for what I'm going to do," but she didn't. Instead, she just said, "Sure. You're forgiven."

He put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed, planting a kiss on the side of her head. "That's my girl," he said. "Now, can we talk about all of this?"

Amy hesitated. "Right now?" she asked. "I don't know if I'm up for that, Dad."

"No? Oh. All right then," he said, sounding a little disappointed. "Well, you'll tell me when you are, right? I mean it, Amy, I want you to feel like you can talk to me about this. I need you to talk to me about this."

"I don't really think that's a good idea."

He looked at her, his eyebrows furrowing. "Yeah? Why not?"

Amy sighed heavily. "I think it's obvious, Dad. Look, you can tell me you realize you've been acting like a jerk, and I can forgive you, and we can move on from this and try to pretend it never happened. But it would be a lie. I can't forget the last few days and what this whole thing has done to you, and I can't promise you that I'll be unfailingly honest with you about it, because I know how much it hurts you. You can't talk your way around that; I'm not stupid and I know it's true. And if I can't be unfailingly honest with you, I would rather not talk to you about this at all. Not because I'm mad at you, but because I don't want you to have to pretend to be supportive when it's tearing you apart."

Jack studied his daughter for several moments, struck by how Amy seemed less to remind him of Jen than to actually merge with her during these occasional analytical diatribes. "I would rather know," he said softly.

Amy leaned her head against his shoulder and didn't answer.

Jack drained the last of his cocktail and placed the empty glass back on the Icehouse bar. Standing across from him and playing barkeep for the evening, Pacey set to work on a refill. He was about to slide the glass back toward Jack when Doug's hand intervened, closing over Pacey's wrist and preventing him from completing the transaction.

"He's done," he said firmly.

Jack gave him a raised-eyebrow look. "Wait just a damn minute, Sheriff," he said. "Last time I checked, I was perfectly capable of making those decisions for myself."

Pacey raised his hands in surrender and backed away. "I'm out of this," he said, and gestured toward his wife. "Joey, care to mediate?"

"Jack, you have a very valid reason to be upset, but I think you're putting more concern into this whole situation than it merits," Joey said from the bar stool on Jack's other side, attempting to sway her friend's attention and diffuse the argument before it could begin. "Amy has a good head on her shoulders; she's going to think this through rationally before she does anything about it."

"And what's the worst that could happen anyway?" Doug added, earning himself a sharp glare from Jack.

"She could go and live with him and never speak to us again."

There was a general murmur of protest from the other three. "Not going to happen," Pacey said. "Jack, really, do you think any of us would let that happen?"

"Do you think Amy would?" Joey added. "You're not being rational."

"This is the asshole who abandoned Jen when she got pregnant; I doubt he's been standing by to atone for his past mistakes by taking responsibility for a sixteen-year-old girl he's never laid eyes on," Doug said. "Besides, who says she even wants to meet him? Or that he won't just tell her to get lost?"

Jack winced. "And what do you think that will do to her?" he demanded. "Do you actually think I'm sitting here hoping for my little girl to get her heart stomped on by this guy? Of course that's not what I want!" He took a deep breath. "I just think there's more going on than she's telling us. I sensed something when I was talking to her this afternoon. She's hiding something."

Doug bristled slightly. "Can you blame her?" he asked, trying to keep the accusatory note out of his tone but helpless to stop it from creeping in.

"I talked to her about that, Doug. I apologized."

Doug shrugged. "I'm sorry, Jack, but I think this might be a case of too little, too late. You think she's going to open up to you about this now that you've shown her the very mention of this topic has the power to make you act like the world's biggest jerk? She's scared to death of hurting you anymore than she thinks she already has. Of making that wedge you've driven between you any bigger."

"Did she tell you this?"

"Not in so many words, but it's what she was getting at."

"So she's fine with talking to you about it."

"Why wouldn't she be, Jack? I'm not the one who's been walking around the house for days acting like she has just perpetrated some unthinkable act of familial betrayal. And are you kidding me? You should be glad she's talking to someone about this besides that boyfriend of hers; why does it always have to be you?"

"Enough, both of you," Joey intervened. "Let's focus on the important issue here, okay? Our Amy is a smart girl, a mature girl. This is her decision, and fighting about it amongst ourselves isn't going to change whatever it is that she wants to do. Doug … ease up, all right? He's just exercising his parental right to worry."

"Well-put, Jo," Pacey said, slipping into his mischievous grin. "Especially the part about Dougie being an ass. People just don't put him in his place often enough for my liking."

Joey smiled and rolled her eyes as Doug reached threateningly across the bar and Pacey effortlessly ducked under his hand. It was nice to see that some things, like brotherly sparring, never changed.

The pier had once again worked its magnetic magic. Amy did her best thinking out here, especially under a sky heavy with stars, as this one was. She lay on her back with her head propped in Ben's lap, looking up past him to seek out the familiar constellations overhead. Pacey had taught her about constellations when she was just a little girl. One of her favorite things to do was accompany her uncle on nighttime sails on his boat, and she adored those quiet, sleepy times as they drifted back to dock. He would draw her into his lap, point up at the sparkling sky, and tell her stories of the patterns he traced for her with his finger. The night sky had always elicited for her this well-worn, comforting remembrance of childhood.

"So, Lindley … are you sure about this?" Ben asked, keeping his tone casual but his meaning clear.

Amy shifted her gaze from the stars to his clear, direct green eyes and offered him a mysterious half smile. "Why do you ask?"

"Look, I've been very respectful of your pensive trance this evening, but I've got to admit, curiosity is getting the better of me. What are you thinking about?"

"It's not obvious?"

"I mean specifically. You've told me about the conversation, you've told me your plan. But this is huge, Amy. This is a really important decision, and I think you need to make sure it's what you want to do before we just jump in the car and go."

"I am sure, Ben," Amy said firmly. "This isn't something I take lightly, you know."

Ben sighed. "I know, Lindley, but—"

"He was the one who suggested this. I mean, sure, he sounded a little weirded out, but who wouldn't be? It wasn't exactly the routine phone call from a telemarketer he was probably expecting. Besides, I told myself that if he was willing to meet me, then I would have my answer."

"It's not the meeting him part I'm worried about," Ben said quietly, looking out at the dark water. "At least not completely, because I understand that you feel you have to do that. What bothers me is the not telling your family part."

Amy sat up, her blue eyes flashing dangerously. "I've explained that to you, Ben. If this is about not wanting to be implicated in this, then you don't have to drive me to New York. Jessie will do it, or I'll beg Andy. He won't be happy about it, but he'll—"

"Amy, stop, that's not it." He turned back toward her and caught both of her hands, squeezing them for emphasis. "I wouldn't let anyone else do this for you. If Doug ends up killing me for kidnapping you and Jack gives me an F in English in retaliation, so be it. I just think maybe you should tell someone something about what you're doing. How about Joey?"

"Under different circumstances, Joey would be my best bet; I've already thought of that. But in this case, she would be obligated to tell my dads, especially if they catch on and realize I'm not at Jessie's."

"And remind me why it would be the end of the world for them to know."

Amy sighed. "Because," she said after a moment. "It would break my dad's heart."