Author's Note: Ach, this one has a TISSUE WARNING. I was tearing up as I wrote it. (I have no idea where this stuff comes from, really). Believe me, the excitement is coming in chapters 6 and 7. Just bear with me.

Chapter 5: A mother's love

When Bo hit the last step of the staircase he could hear Brenda banging dishes around in the sink. Inwardly he fought the urge to turn tail and run back upstairs, but he knew he wouldn't be able to face Luke if he did.

Balladeer: Now friends, it's been said that the two hardest things for any man to conquer are hate an' fear. And Bo's gotta beat both in one night. Talk about guts.

He knew he had to face his past, no matter what it may be. Walking into the kitchen with his head bowed and thumbs hitched in his jean pockets, he loudly cleared his throat.

"Oh, Bo!" Brenda turned from the sink in surprise. "I thought you were sleeping! Luke didn't wake you, did he?"

"Uh, no ma'am," he lied. "I was just dozin'."

"Well, here. Sit a spell." She patted the kitchen table with her hand. "Want some coffee?"

"Uh, sure, thank-ya ma'am." She set one steaming mug in front of him, then turned back to the coffeemaker to get her own. Bo studied her, and thought about the letter she'd written. He wondered who she was, and what all she knew about him.

"You knew my fa—I mean, Robbie?" She nodded and went to sit across from him.

"There's a lot I wanted to tell you. But I know you had a long day. If you want to wait 'til tomorrow morning..."

"With all due respect ma'am---I gotta know now." She nodded and smiled in understanding.

"Please, call me Brenda."

No sooner had he fallen asleep minutes after Bo left, Luke awoke with a jolt. 'Uncle Jesse!' They were supposed to call him once they got settled in. He looked over at the clock on the nightstand and groaned. One a.m.! 'Uncle Jesse's probably worried sick!'. He leapt out of bed and hurried downstairs, tripping over the bottom step in his rush. He landed on his with a grunt, as Bo and Brenda ran out to see about the commotion.

"Luke! What're you doin'?" Bo asked with a chuckle as he helped his cousin to his feet.

"Are you alright?" Brenda asked.

"Nothin' hurt but my pride. I forgot to call Uncle Jesse," he explained, face flushed in embarrassment.

"Shoot! He'll be worried sick!" Lamented Bo, slapping his hand against his forehead.

"It's alright, you can use my phone. It's in the living room," Brenda offered kindly.

Luke mumbled a thank you to her and hurried past, eager to get back to his warm bed.

She turned to Bo. "Looks like we aren't ever gonna be able to talk."

"Naw, I can talk to Uncle Jesse tomorrow, he'll understand," said Bo. Together they walked back into the kitchen and sat down.

Back at the Duke farm, Jesse didn't know whether to be worried or furious. The boys ALWAYS called. It was an unspoken rule, no—law.

If they didn't call by 3 a.m., he decided, he'd do something. He'd call the FBI, or the CIA, or something.

He jumped when the phone rang. Lunging from his seat at the kitchen table, he snatched the receiver up to his ear. "Luke!"

"Yeah, Uncle Jesse, it's me."

"Where in tarnation have you boys been!" Jesse thundered.

"We're sorry, Uncle Jesse, really. We got a little sidetracked."

"Are ya alright?" Asked Jesse, thinking the only reason the boys wouldn't have called would be if they were hurt.

"Yeah, we're fine. We found Brenda Wheeler an' she's lettin' us stay in her house 'til this is all over."

"That's good. Least ya got a roof over your head. How's Bo?" On the other end, Luke sighed.

"He's alright, I guess. Just overwhelmed. He's talkin' to Brenda right now."

"They gettin' along?"

"Well, she's nice, but I had to practically twist Bo's arm to get him to talk to her. Listen, I'm sorry I called so late. Tomorrow we'll try an' catch ya earlier."

"You better," Jesse said in a threatening tone. "Now get on to bed. I can tell you're tired." Luke chuckled.

"Yeah, I'm beat. 'Sides this is a long distance call. Don't wanna run up Brenda's bill. Love ya, Uncle Jesse."

"Love you, too, Luke. Give my love to Bo."

"Will do. Bye."

Jesse hung up the phone and sighed with relief, sending a quick thank-you heavenward for answered prayer. His boys were safe.

He heard a noise and turned to see Daisy standing in the doorway, clad in her nightgown.

"Ain't you supposed to be in bed?" He asked. She just grinned sheepishly, but Jesse could read the question in her eyes. "Bo an' Luke are fine. They're stayin' with that Wheeler woman." She nodded as if she had known all along. In fact, that was how she got her nickname, 'Bo Peep', because she always seemed to have a sixth sense about their 'lost sheep', and would know if they were in trouble.

"You gonna go to bed now, Uncle Jesse?" she asked sweetly.

"I s'pose. You'd best get on to bed too. No need to have two worry-warts losin' their sleep."

Their slumbers were peaceful after that.

Luke stopped by the doorway of the kitchen before heading upstairs, trying to eavesdrop on Brenda and Bo's conversation despite his fatigue.

"...Your daddy, Robbie, and I grew up together right here in Savannah. We were high school sweethearts. But he was a troublemaker—oh, boy. Always in trouble with the law—never could sit still."

Luke had to smile as law trouble ran high in the Duke family history, and the description fit Bo to a 't'. 'Like father, like son', he thought with a chuckle.

"He ended up quitting high school his junior year...I was so mad at him! We broke up the same day he ran away from home after a fight with his pa. You couldn't blame him, he was just a free spirit who was a little lost for a while," she paused.

"A long while. I didn't see him again for ten years. By that time he was married to your mama, Annabelle Duke. And I was married to my John. The four us met while shopping at the grocery store, of all places. I was near seven months pregnant at the time with Cindy, and Annabelle whispered in my ear that she thought she was, too, but hadn't told Robbie. I tell you, I never saw two people more in love. Over the next few months we all became the best of friends—your parents were even at Cindy's christening and were named her godparents. We were that close." Brenda smiled with remembering, then continued.

"We used to get together every Friday night for poker and I'd give Annabelle all my old baby books," her voice changed suddenly, and took on a tone of sadness. "But then in her 6th month, Annabelle started having complications. The doctors ordered her off her feet, but she was so stubborn...I still remember that phone call from Robbie. Telling us to get on up to the hospital...she died shortly after giving birth to you, the doctor said. Robbie had been there; said she at least got to hold you. He was a wreck...said her last words were telling him to tell you she loved you. Then she died." Luke strained his ears in the silence, wondering how Bo was taking this. He heard a sniffle, and decided to walk in. He saw them sitting at the table. Bo was looking down, and Brenda had her hands clasped over his on the table.

"Oh honey, I'm sorry if I upset you. I thought you knew how she died."

"I did," he answered in a gruff, emotional voice. "It's just...I always thought...I killed her." Brenda looked up at Luke and saw the alarm in his eyes. 'How could he think such a thing?'

"Baby, you didn't kill her," she soothed as Luke put a hand on Bo's shoulder.

"You were listenin'?" Bo asked, looking up into Luke's tired eyes. The older cousin nodded.

"Sorry," he said, though he wasn't.

"Naw, it's alright. Ain't nothin' I wouldn't of done."

"Bo," Brenda's commanding voice made him turn her way. "You know you didn't kill her. You was just a wee little thing. She died of complications from the pregnancy—not from you."

"Yeah but..." he struggled to choke back his tears, not wanting to cry in front of Luke. "I always thought..." 'how could he explain it? The secret pain he'd felt in his heart all these years?' "I always thought that if she was alive, she'd be angry or disappointed in me. 'Cuz she died 'cuz've me." His tears were multiplying, and Bo covered his eyes with his hands, trying to ignore Luke's strong hand squeezing his shoulder in empathy.

"Bo. Look at me," Brenda commanded in a gentle but firm tone. "Don't you know that the last thing your mama did before she died was look into your eyes? She loved you. You were her greatest accomplishment. She isn't mad at you. If anything, she's looking down from heaven, smiling down on a son she can be proud of. It weren't your fault, baby. It was just her time to go."

Bo nodded, taking slow, deep breaths to calm himself. Looking up, he patted Luke's hand in unspoken thanks. In many ways, Luke was like his big brother, always had been. Even when he didn't have to be. And like always, Luke was there for him now, if just to show that he cared.

"You should go to bed Luke. Nancy Jane won't like it if ya got bags under your eyes." Luke smiled at the small joke. Nancy Jane, his latest (and steadiest) girlfriend, always told everyone that she loved his 'flashing blue eyes'. Bo always teased him for it.

"Yeah, I'm whupped...you gonna be okay?"

"I'm fine. You go."

His sleep-deprivated body ready to crash, Luke slowly made his way up to the guestroom and hit the hay. His last thought before drifting off was heartfelt empathy for his cousin, whom he'd never known to have carried such a burden about his mother's death. He wondered if Daisy felt the same way. Her mother, too, had died during her birth.

He was the lucky one, he guessed. At least he had some memories of his parents, who died when he was four. His dreams that night were filled with such memories.

"So what happened after that?" Bo asked finally, after he'd composed himself. It was humiliating, really. Breaking down like that, like a little kid, but he couldn't help it. He'd always secretly longed for a real mother—Aunt Martha had been the closest thing—and he'd always clung to her, grappling for her attention over Luke and Daisy's. He still remembered when she'd died. He had been eleven, and didn't understand. All he knew was that she was gone. He had curled up in a ball on his bed, sobbing for all he was worth. It took much coaxing from Jesse and Luke before he would get out.

Eventually, he and his cousins had gotten over the tragedy, and he had not experienced that same feeling of loss until now, talking about his mother. As for his father, well, he had always had Uncle Jesse and Luke to look up to. Now that he was going to hear about his father, Bo figured that this man could never to compare to his other two role models. But he was curious all the same.

"Well," Brenda began. "Robbie was utterly shattered at Annabelle's death. He didn't know what to do with himself, without her. God knows we couldn't help him, though we tried. Your Uncle Jesse did too, but he couldn't be consoled. Ended up an alcoholic. He'd asked Martha and Jesse to take you in, and I guess they adopted you?" Bo nodded.

Again the nagging thought: 'I'm not really a Duke...' Even though it didn't make any sense. 'Why did he keep thinking that?'

He watched as Brenda's eyes grew distant and misty. "Three years later, my John died in a plane crash. Robbie showed up at my door, clean-shaven and sober. We spent that whole night talking. He'd cleaned up, gone through AA, and worked as a trucker for some local company. Started sending me money and letters. Eventually we became kind of a couple. It was a rekindled love. We were never married—swore that marriage was a one-time thing, and ours were over."

"He talked about you a lot—carried a lot of guilt. He thought he'd let Annabelle down when he gave you to Jesse. I convinced him to drive to Hazzard to see you, but he came back disappointed. Said he saw you and your cousins playing in the yard, and you all sitting down with Jesse and Martha for supper. 'They all were so happy'; he'd told me. 'I couldn't bear to take him from that'. I think, after that, he found some measure of peace, knowing you were happy."

"He fell sick about two years ago—all those damn cigars—pardon my French. I always wanted him to quit, but I thought it was better than the alcohol. His last words to me were that he wanted me to find you, and bring you here to his funeral. He said it time you knew the truth. He wanted you to know that he'd done what he thought was best by you, and that he was sorry for any pain he'd caused you..." her voice broke, and she got up to grab a tissue from a box on the kitchen counter. "Sorry," she whispered.

"It's okay," he got up to comfort her with a hug, realizing that she had truly loved Robbie, his father, this stranger.

"God, I miss him," she sobbed as he pulled her into a brotherly embrace. Quietly they grieved together, her for a love, him for a loss. And by the light of the morning dawn, they each had found some solace within their hearts.

Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who reviews...I enjoy knowing what you think of this story.