In the evening, Sophie and Carla were sitting together in Sophie's living room. They sat on opposite ends of the couch, legs tucked under themselves and cups of hot chocolate in their hands. For a long while neither of them said anything, but it was a comfortable silence. Then Sophie broke it.

"I've been thinking about David. Maybe you could help him . . . work through his grief?"

"You think because I lost someone to the Armed Forces, too?", Carla asked while an uneasy feeling crept into her.

As an answer she got a nod, so she continued.

"No matter ho we lose people, every one of us grieves differently. I wanted to be left alone. I hated it when people tried to console me, sympathize with me or 'help' me. For me, my grief was a private thing, between me and my husband. The only interference I tolerated was from my son and my parents-in-law. I didn't want any consolation; consequently I don't know how to console others. Believe me, I'm the last person you'd ask for something like that. Besides, I'm leaving tomorrow morning."

Sophie nodded slowly in acceptance. "Do you have a photo of him?"

For a moment, Carla froze at the sudden request. Then she jumped up and disappeared for a minute. When she came back, she held a photograph. She plopped down on the couch again and gave it to Sophie.

Sophie looked at the small paper rectangle in her hands. It was clearly a family shot. Mother, father, son . . . wait, son? "Didn't you tell Peter you didn't have a picture of your son?"

"I didn't lie to him." Came the defensive answer. "At the time, out there, I didn't have one with me. And it wasn't in my wallet, so I didn't lie about that, either."

Sophie regarded her dubiously. Then she stared at the picture. Her eyes became mere slits when a certain suspicion grew within her . . . "Is there a special reason why you didn't want Peter to see him?"

Carla started fidgeting nervously, but didn't say anything. Sophie wasn't stupid. She'd most likely figure it out in the next five minutes. She should have never taken out the photograph. How could such a grave mistake happen to her?

Sophie watched Carla closely. She clearly wasn't comfortable with the direction their conversation had taken. But this was something she felt she had to find out. "Your husband wasn't your son's father, right?"

Carla sighed. She didn't ask how Sophie came to this idea. It really didn't take a genius. After all, Richard had been black; Robin was not. "I never claimed he was, did I?"

Sophie hesitated. That had been the obvious part. She wasn't so sure about the rest of her suspicion. "Sooo . . . ?"

Carla had made her decision. "Please, don't tell anyone about this? Promise me."

"Alright, I promise. I won't tell anyone what you're about to say."

Carla drew a deep breath. "Yes, Peter really is Robin's father. And yes, I know I have to tell him eventually. . . "

"Whoa, that's . . . just whoa. So he never suspected anything? He didn't know you were pregnant?" Sophie thought of Carla's reaction when she met Peter, and suddenly it all made sense.

"No he didn't. It must have happened not long before I was arrested. When I missed my first period in jail, I didn't think much of it. I knew that some women don't get periods at all in jail because of the constant stress. But then there was morning sickness and I fainted several times. They had a doctor look at me and, well. . . let's say my time in prison was easier because of my pregnancy, I spent a lot of time in the infirmary . . . Robin was born two months before I was released. And that was that."

"And you didn't tell Peter then because . . .?"

"I tried to, I really did. I went back to Seattle and looked for him, asked around when I couldn't find him. He hadn't been seen for months. Most people said he probably OD'd; and for all I knew that was a very real possibility. There were a few who said he may have gone to a hospital, but no one was sure about anything." She emphasized by shrugging her shoulders.

"He went to the hospital. Actually that's where I met him. So if you thought he was most likely dead . . . it must have been a shock meeting him again." She shook her head and blew a little air through her lips. "Will you tell him now?"

Carla shook her head decisively. "Not now. It's all too . . . fresh. I will go back to San Diego. I will have to tell Robin that I found his other Dad. Then, when I'm retired, I'll come here again. Uhh, actually, I'm a bit afraid of telling Peter . . ."

Sophie was surprised. "Why? I don't think he'll be angry at having a son."

Hesitation. Then: "Today he already implied that he thinks I'm not a good mother. And he didn't even know that Robin's his son. I'm afraid he'll think I'm not good enough, that he'll try to tell me what is best for him."

Sophie put her hand on Carla's. "I'm sure that you are a good mother. And if you bring Robin here with you and Peter sees you with him, he will see that too. Don't worry about that."

Carla began fidgeting uneasily again. "There's something else . . ."

Sophie nodded for her to continue.

"He might feel obliged to try a relationship with me again." She shrugged. "The result of something like that wouldn't be fair to anyone involved. Not to me, not to Robin, not to Peter and certainly not to you."

Sophie sat frozen, shell-shocked. "I . . . I didn't even think about that . . ."

"As I told you before, I don't want a relationship with him again. Not that I want to keep him out of Robin's life, certainly not. I'd even move here, into this region after my retirement, to reduce travel." She looked at Sophie, unsure whether what she had to say next would be presumptuous. "I'd rather wait with telling him until you are married."

At that, Sophie relaxed visibly. For some minutes she just sat there, deep in thought. Then she regained her ability to form coherent sentences. "Good idea. I guess the ball's in my field now. After all, he already asked me." Her eyes lit up. "We do have the morp this week. And a meteor shower. I'll ask him that night."

"Morp?"

"Katherine's idea. She wanted a prom, but our own version, so she spelled it backwards." There was a genuine smile in Sophie's face when she thought of Kat's impressive development. She had matured considerably and should be ready to face the outside world.

Carla nodded, eyes twinkling in appreciation of the girl's wit. "So you'll be wearing an evening gown and he a tux and you'll be standing outside watching shooting stars . . . that certainly is a romantic setting. He won't be able to resist you."

Sophie chuckled. "I sure hope so." Suddenly she looked concerned again. "Won't it be difficult to explain it all to your son?"

Shaking her head, Carla answered. "Robin will be a lot easier than Peter. He already knows that he has another father besides Richard. I mean, except genetics, Richard was his real father in every respect. But it was only a matter of time until other people told him that Rich couldn't be his 'real' father. So we explained to him that he had two fathers, but I didn't know where the other one was." She shrugged. "I'll just tell him that I found him."

A moment went by in silence, both women following their own thoughts. Suddenly Sophie sat up straighter, as if something had occurred to her. "Wait . . . all this means that, when I'm married to Peter, you'll be something like a relative to me . . ."

Carla laughed. "You could see it like that, yes."