Chapter 2

Max turned to look behind him, glancing at Isabel and Michael before knocking politely on the white front door of the Harris household. Liz shifted next to him, slipping her hand into his before smiling reassuringly. From inside a voiced called, "Come in!" and laughter could be heard a moment later. He recognized the muffled voice of his parents, their car in the driveway not as comforting as he had hoped.

He pushed open the door slowly, only to have it suddenly swing wide, a smiling Susanna holding on the other end. "Sorry we're late." He apologized, moving further in so that Isabel and Michael could follow.

"Oh, no, you're right on time. Your parents just got here." Susanna reached for their coats, wiping her hands on the apron wrapped around her waist before hanging them quickly in the small closet to the right. Her hair was held up against her neck thanks to a small nubby pencil and across her cheek was a powdering of flour. "They're in the living room. I just have to pull the chicken out of the oven." She motioned to the room from where the laughter was coming from before spinning on her bare feet and returning to the kitchen.

Pausing in the doorway, Max looked once again to his sister. They'd decided less than a week ago, that afternoon at the Crashdown, that as usual remaining low key was best for either situation regarding Susanna. Isabel would find out some more information as to what her friend had been up to the past couple years—hopefully ruling out the possiblity of alien abduction. If nothing suspicious was discovered than a low profile would keep Susanna from finding out her friend's real identities. If by chance, exteresstial happenings did seem to be Susanna's forte then decisions would be made then.

It was still awkward between the group of friends and Susanna. Max and Liz tried their best to welcome the girl while Isabel's over enthusiastic smiles appeared whenever Michael's mood turned sour. Kyle had been introduced days ago and they had the sports connection covered.

"Well, lets go in and see mom and dad." Isabel suggested, pushing through the awkward silence of Max and Michael. From where they stood in the hall, they could hear the conversation that had stopped the laughter.

"So Paul," her father's voice began, "before we start talking about everything else that's happened over the last ten years, tell us, why'd you move back?" Isabel paused, Michael bumping into her back clumsily.

A deep voice responded. "Honestly, it wasn't my decision. Susanna just suddenly starting pushing it, and well…" He awkwardly cleared his throat, "it was what she wanted and I just couldn't say no."

Although still consumed with the suspicious news of the Harris' return to Roswell, Isabel had started walking towards the room again. Mrs. Evan's excited voice, broke the four friend's from their shared contemplation. "Hey! Here they are." Mrs. Evans hopped to her feet, ushering the four teenagers into the room with one hand, while holding onto her white wine with the other. "Izzie, Max, you remember Mr. Harris."

The familiar bald head of Mr. Harris greeted the group with a warm smile. He was holding his own glass of wine, switching it to his left after hugging Isabel so that he could shake Max's hand. "Wow, you two look great."

"Nice to see you again, Mr. Harris." Max replied "Ah, this is my girlfriend, Liz."

"Hi Liz," Mr. Harris greeted easily, shaking her small hand also. "You're in Susanna's American Lit class right?"

"Yeah, we're working on our midterm project together."

Isabel pushed Michael to the front. "This is our friend Michael."

"Nice to meet you Michael."

Michael gripped Mr. Harris' tanned hand, concentrating on shaking this man's hand firmly and looking him in the eye. He felt the strange need to make a good impression. "Nice to meet you too, sir."

"Oh please, call me Paul." His deep laugh was twice as loud as what he'd heard standing on the front stoop. "Sir makes me sould so old."

"Well, we are old, Paul." Mr. Evan's teasing caused the adults to erupt into another round of laughter just as Susanna entered the room.

"Supper's ready!" She clapped, calling the group's attention, and Michael noticed that she shared her father's smile.

"Let's move into the dining room then." Mr. Harris instructed, leading the way as Susanna skipped behind the rest. She waited in the doorframe, proud of the neatly spread table. At one head of the table sat a chicken breast with bowls of vegetables, potatoes, and rolls spread around the candle centerpiece.

"Oh Susanna, you did this all by yourself. Child," cooed Mrs. Evans, taking Susanna's freshly washed face in her hands. "Bless you."

"Please, Mrs. Evans. Sit down, enjoy." She replied, brushing off the compliment quickly and rushing to one end of the table. "Mr. Evans," she pressed, "you and dad at the head of the table."

Mr. Evans shook his head. "Oh no, this is such a lovely meal. You deserve to be at the head of it all."

"I'm perfectly fine here." Susanna explained, placing her drink to the left of her father's seat. Next to her slipped Isabel and Mrs. Evans while Michael, Max and Liz filled the seats on the opposite side. "Besides, I still need to check on the dessert so this way I can run back and forth."

Susanna chose that moment to return to the kitchen, on the heels of everyone's compliments as they passed the food around.

"So Mr. Harris," Max began after fixing his potatos, "what was my dad like in high school."

"Hey now!" Mr. Evan's laughed, pointing at his friend with a butter knife, "Be fair."

Mr. Harris placed his wine glass on the table, swallowing the last of his drink. "Well, always the one getting me out of trouble." He chuckled, winking at Max, "I think I'm the reason he decided to be a lawyer. He'd already helped me out of enough tough situations."

"Yes, that's true." Mr. Evans agreed with forced seriousness, "But I ignored those mishaps because he was the cool jock who got me into parties." Everyone laughed while Isabel exclaimed in false surprise. "Besides, if it wasn't for him, I wouldn't have met your mother."

Liz and Isabel awwed at the cutesy display before Mrs. Evans interrupted. "I dated Paul first." The aws quickly turned into louder bouts of laughter. "Then realized the error of my ways and fell for your father."

Susanna returned, pushing through the swinging door that separated the dining room from the kitchen. "I almost forgot," she said, placing a bottle of Tabasco sauce on the table before sliding into her own seat.

"Oh, how funny." Isabel caught Liz's wide eyes and Max's furrowed brow while Michael reached easily for the Tabasco, pausing a moment with the same shock his three friends felt. Mrs. Evans reached for the bottle after Michael finished using it, trying to act as if nothing were out of the ordinary. "Is and Max love this on chicken also. Isn't it strange?"

"Totally," Susanna agreed, passing the Tabasco over to Isabel. Liz, Michael, Max and Isabel all noticed that she didn't add any of the spice to her own plate. "And everyone reacts that way. But I just always remember it being on the kitchen table at night. Its funny, but some things just stick with you. It feels weird if it's not there, even though, neither one of us uses it."

"Karen loved the stuff." Mr. Harris explained between forkfuls of masked potatoes. "It was like, all of a sudden, she couldn't live without it."

"I remember!" Laughed Mrs. Evans. "It was right around the time we adopted Max and Isabel. We had a dinner at our house and Karen just consumed the stuff."

"We thought she was pregnant again!" Added Mr. Evans.

"Strange," Max mumbled, pouring some of the sauce on his plate before glancing at Liz out of the corner of his eye. Michael was staring strangly across the table at Susanna while Isabel foucsed intently on the food on her plate.

"So, I heard something about my dad dating your mom." Susanna laughed, reaching for the potatos in front of Max.

He smiled. "Yea, but then my dad moved in for the kill."

Paul cleared his throat. "I wasn't too heartbroken though," a slow grin slid across his tanned features. "Susanna's mother worked with your mother."

"Oh! That's right. Down at the Put'n'Put." Mrs. Evans laughed as the conversation continued down memory lane. She turned to address Susanna. "The summer your mother started working there, it was like…I'd never seen so many men excited to play miniature golf."

"I didn't know you were friends for so long." Susanna smiled. For a brief second, Michael thought he caught a twinge of sadness at the corners of her lips.

"Oh yes, your mother was one of my closest friends."

A brief silence settled around the table, alluding to what all around the table were thinking of—the person missing. While most returned to pushing their food around their plates, Michael watched Susanna. She glanced at the ceiling before sighing and dropping her napkin onto a mostly empty plate. "Well," she smiled, as if giving the rest of the group permission to return to happier topics. "I better check on dessert. Excuse me."

"So Paul," Mr. Evans pushed his plate further towards the middle of the table so he could rest his elbows comfortably in it's space. "Are you still interested in that ridiculous Iron Man training?"

"Yes, the company that I work for is setting up a new training facility a couple of towns over. I'll be in the office a couple days a week but really, I've earned some time off to train." Mr. Harris wiped his mouth quickly, turning as the door from the kitchen swung open. He smiled at his daughter. "I'm also helping down at the high school. With the track program."

Susanna slipped back into her seat next to her father. "Oh, are you running Susanna?" Asked Mrs. Evans.

"You were always the best in those small fry soccer games." Smiled Mr. Evans.

Susanna fiddled with a lock of her hair. "Yea, indoor track is almost over so I'm just practicing with them until outdoor."

"She'll be running the 5K on the track." Beamed Mr. Harris. As the adults continued to talk about her, Susanna reached for the plates within arms reach. She began to stack when Mrs. Evans asked. "And how much is that?"

"3.1 miles." Her father answered. "She has her first meet coming up next week."

"It's a scrimage." She slipped the emptly plate from underneath Michael's nose before grabbing his fork and knife next. Seemingly on auto-pilot she continued. "Really, coach just wants to put us in a competitive position. It's better than time trials."

Mrs. Evans smiled at her son. "I wish Max would run. He was such a good athlete."

Mr. Harris seemed to perk at the possibility. "We could use some more guys on the team." While Susanna smiled at the boys from underneath her eyelashes, still collecting plates to take into the kitchen, her father continued his recruitment of Max and Michael. "You don't have to run, throwing shot or disc is an option also."

The boys caught each other's eyes. "I have work after school." Max explained, "I'm trying to say up for this new stereo system."

Michael was a bit more forward. "The uniform does it for me."

"Dad," Susanna tried to change the subject, aware of how uncomfortable her friends had seemed all evening, but all she could come up with was, "Michael's in my art class."

"Ah, I thought this was the same Michael." Max and Isabel exchanged amusing glances as Michael fumbled with his napkin and Susanna escaped to the kitchen with her newly acquired stack of plates. "Susanna says that you have an eye for architecture."

"I just sketch." He threw the napkin onto the table and forced a smile.

"Well, we have plenty of books in the library if you want to check out some of the great architects. Back when a building was a work of sculpture itself." Still forcing his smile, Michael said nothing, looking to Max and Isabel for a quick rescue.

"Whew. I'm stuffed." Mr. Evans allowed Susanna to reach for his plate as she circled the table one more time for the extra plates.

"This was so good Susanna."

Isabel pushed back her chair as Susanna passed her. "Please, let us clean up." She grabbed the stack, twirling out of Susanna's reach before disappearing into the kitchen. Behind her she called. "Sit for once tonight."

"You can grab the plates but I still need to finish with dessert. Then I can sit." Susanna followed Isabel into the kitchen and their muffled conversation could be heard from behind the swinging door.

"Max, are you still planning on going to that movie?" Max checked his watch at his mother's reminder.

"We should probably leave." Liz responded, turning to Mr. Harris. "Thank you so much for having us over for dinner."

"My pleasure Liz. I hope to see you around here more often." He stood as the couple pushed in their chairs. "Max," he shook his hand. "Stop by that meet if you're interested. I'm sure Susanna would love an audience."

Max laughed and shook his head. "I'll try to make it." He walked towards the other side of the table, patting his dad on the back before kissing his mother's cheek goodbye. "Michael," he eyed his friend who seemed uncomfortable at the table of adults. "Basketball tomorrow." Liz waved goodbye, dragging Max into the kitchen first to say goodnight to Isabel and Susanna.

After sitting at the silent table, listening to the conversation in the kitchen and then Max and Liz shutting the front door behind them, Michael stood. "Ah," he glanced at the three still sitting, "I'll go help dry."

He passed Susanna coming out of the kitchen, holding what seemed to be a warm apple crisp. She smiled at him appreciativly although he didn't know exactly what for. Isabel soon followed, carrying coffee cups. "The mug of coffee, Michael." She hissed.

He rolled his eyes, following her directions and slipping past Susanna one last time as he exited the kitchen. Although he'd intended to return to the boring yet distracting task of washing dishes, Isabel roped him into pouring coffee as she passed out the saucers and cups. Only when the coffee mug was empty in the center of the table and Mr. and Mrs. Evans had begun retelling another Susanna Isabel story from when they were kids, did Michael slip into the kitchen.

At the sink stood Susanna, resting her hands on the counter and leaning over the soapy water below. The dim light from the window behind the sink haloed her form and Michael hesitated to break the silence. In the end, it was Isabel, glad to have escaped the dining room, who bumped into him with the swinging door. "Michael, what are you doing?"

Susanna jumped at Isabel's voice or more specifically at the mention of Michael in the room. She smiled at both of her new friends, unaware of the soap suds now on her forhead. "Suz, think you can steal away with us? As much as I love apple crisp, the Crashdown has a great hot fudge sundae."

Susanna smiled as Isabel dropped the coffee pot into the sink, splashing water onto the counter. "Nah, not tonight." She caught Michael's eye as he pushed himself up onto the kitchen counter. "Thanks for coming over though. I hope my father wasn't too boring."

"Are you kidding, it's funny listening to all my parent's horror stories." Isabel rolled up her sleeves, about to dive into the sink full of water when Susanna pushed shook her head. "Are you sure you don't want us to finish cleaning up?"

"Don't worry about it." She replied, already elbow deep in the water.

"Okay," Isabel said hesitantly, "cya on Monday, right? Seven o'clock."

"I'll be there." Susanna smiled, a quick flash before remembering something. "Oh, and give my a call after your date with Billy tomorrow. Let me know how it goes."

Isabel nodded, ignoring Michael's questioning raise of the eyebrows as she pulled him down the hallway towards the front door. They passed the open dining room and the adults turned. "Mom, Dad, we're gonna walk home."

"Sure you don't want a ride?" Mrs. Evan's pressed.

"It's a nice night." Michael answered, shoving hands deep within his pockets and stealing a quick glance in the kitchen where Susanna was snooping for more dish towels underneath the sink.

"Perfect for star gazing." Added Mr. Harris. As Isabel and Michael turned towars the door, waving one last good bye, he continued. "That's what I missed about New Mexico. Karen loved driving out and watching the stars. She could sit out there for hours…"

Outside, Isabel wrapped her arms around her waist, surprised by the cool nighttime air. Noticing, Michael stopped abruptly. "Shit, my coat." He turned towards the Harris' household, lights from the dining room shining out into the street. "I forgot it inside." He called, jogging the quick distance back to the front door.

He slipped inside quietly, not wanting to create another line of questions from the Evans' and Mr. Harris. The night itself had been on and off again uncomfortable for Michael, never one accustomed to family dinners and normal pleasantries with guests. He wanted to escape, as soon as possible.

Yet as he reached into the closet, leafing through the hangers for his jacket, the conversation from the next room caught his attention and he paused to listen.

"I don't know Jim," came Mr. Harris' voice. "she would wake up with in the middle of the night, obviously upset, and never explain why." It was obvious from the concern that Mr. Harris was speaking about Susanna, intriguing Michael more and more.

"Oh Paul, when did this start."

"Well, it was bad when she was little, but then it went away." There was the clink of coffee cup to saucer and Michael risked incing closer to the dining room entrace. "Didn't really start affecting her again until a couple months ago."

"And that's when she started asking about Karen?" Mr. Evan's voice asked the exact question Michael had been kicking around in his head all evening. "And about Roswell?"

"Yeah." Mr. Harris sighed loudly and Michael imagined him rubbing a strong hand across the shaved baldness of his head. He sounded so defeated—certainly a change from the man who had eagerly explained his Iron Man training schedule an hour earlier. "I dunno Jim, it was the only thing I could think to do. I just want her to be happy again."

Michael turned, about to slip back out the front door when he caught site of the kitchen again. Susanna was still standing in front of the sink, very much in the same position she'd been in when he'd snuck up on her before. But now, from this distance and angle, Michael had a clear view of her reflection in the large window in front of her. And sure enough, the trembling of her shoulders could only be caused by the tears running down her face.

He was out the doors seconds later and by Isabel's side, pushing her away from the front walk before she could speak and possible draw the attention of the three in the dining room. After a couple minutes of walking, with Michael pushing the pace, Isabel grab his arm. "What took you so long Michael? You don't even have your jacket and you're acting strange. Stranger than normal."

Michael cursed his lack of jacket but did not stop walking, offering only a hasty remark which frightened Isabel enough to follow silently. "We need to talk to Max."