Before we parted ways, Karissa wrote a number on a scrap of paper.

"This is the number at the hotel I'm staying at in Modesto. You can call me there anytime."

"You live in Modesto?" I asked, wondering if she'd been that close by all these years.

"No. I'm staying there right now, but that's not my home, no. I've been living in Nevada the last

few years."

I took the paper from her, and put it in my jeans pocket.

"I hope to talk to you soon, Harlie," she said. She looked and sounded sincere.

I nodded. "Bye." I walked quickly to my truck. After I'd gotten in and started the engine, I looked

over and Karissa was still parked, the window still down. She was watching me.

She waved, and I waved back.

As I drove home, my thoughts were racing, jumping all over the place. Why did Adam and Brian tell her to stay away, and leave us kids alone? I thought that they must have had a good reason, but still, it was

puzzling to me. It would have been nice to have had an aunt growing up.

I pulled up in the driveway, and parked next to Guthrie's truck. Clarence and Warrior both

came to greet me and I tried to give them both equal attention.

When I stood up straight again, after petting them, I saw Crane standing on the porch.

I walked over, and paused at the bottom of the porch steps.

"Hi," I said.

"Hey. How was your shift?"

"Long. I need a shower. My hair smells like French fries again."

I walked up the rest of the steps, and Crane leaned over a little to sniff my hair.

"Yeah. Definitely. Just need some ketchup, and you'd be all set," he said jokingly.

I smiled a little and looked up at him. "After my shower, I'm ready for bed. I'm tired."

"You have any homework left to do?" he asked.

"Some English. But I can do it in the morning."

Adam pushed the screen door open, and stood there in the open doorway, in his sock

feet. "You're late," he said. He did not look pleased.

I looked at Crane for support. He shrugged his shoulders as if to say, 'you need to face the music'.

I turned back to Adam. "I got to talking to somebody, and lost track of time. I told Crane-"

"I know what you told Crane. Crane's not your messenger. Where were you?" Adam demanded.

"When I got done with work, I was talking to someone there-" I began to explain.

"You were told to leave at five to come home. That means leave at five. Not continue to hang

around to talk to your friends," Adam said.

"I wasn't talking to my friends," I said, without thinking.

"What?"

"Nothing," I said. I wasn't ready to get into just who I'd been talking to.

"We don't say things just to hear the sound of our own voices, Harlie Marie."

Adam usually only calls me Harlie Marie when he's upset with me, or trying to make a point.

"I know," I said.

"So what does leave at five mean?" he persisted.

"It means leave, and be on the road driving by five minutes after five," I said.

"You don't need to be sassy," he said, looking irritated.

"I wasn't!" I told him, frustrated. "I mean, I wasn't trying to be, Adam. Honestly, I wasn't."

Adam's face softened a little. "Okay." He turned to go back in, then paused. "Have you eaten?"

I shook my head. "Not really. The food there has too much grease in it. Makes my stomach hurt."

"Well, you make sure you go get somethin' right now then," Adam said.

I nodded, and he went back inside, letting the screen door slam.

"Good grief," I muttered.

"Good grief, what?" Crane asked.

"Nothing," I said, knowing there was no use complaining to Crane about Adam getting onto

me.

"So who were you talking to?" he asked.

When I looked at him, he added, "You said it wasn't your friends. Who was it?"

I looked into Crane's face, wishing that I could talk to him about it. But it was too soon. And I'd promised that

I wouldn't. Not yet. I wanted to know more from Karissa. And more about her, too, before I

told my brothers.

"Somebody who wants to be a friend," I said cautiously. At least that wasn't a lie.

"That's a pretty cryptic answer," he said.

I shrugged.

"Is this 'wannabe' friend a boy?" Crane asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No, Crane."

He gave me a half-smile. "Let's go in," he said. "You can make yourself something to eat."

7

I took a shower, and pulled on some sweatpants and a t-shirt, and went downstairs to make

myself a sandwich. Clare came in to talk to me, and before I knew it, she had added a spoonful of

cottage cheese and a pear to my plate.

After that, I went with her to the living room, where everybody was hanging out. I went to root thru

the photo albums, sitting down on one end of the couch to look at them. I felt the need to look at

pictures of my mom. I thought about talking to Guthrie about Karissa, but I decided to wait until

we were alone, maybe driving to school.

The subject didn't come up the next morning, though, because I got up too late, and I

had to finish my English in the truck, while Guthrie drove us to school. On the way home that afternoon,

I reached over and turned the radio down.

"Hey," Guthrie protested. "I was listenin' to that."

"I want to talk to you."

He gave me a look-over, and then reached into his pocket for a piece of gum, unwrapping it and

popping it in his mouth. "Want some?" he asked, holding out the package.

"No. Thanks."

"You look serious. It must be bad, whatever you want to talk about."

"It's not bad," I denied. "Serious, yeah, but not bad."

"Okay. Let's hear it."

"Yesterday, at the Dari Kurl, there was this lady there. I went to take her order, and she

knew my name. She knew all about us-"

"So?" he interrupted me. "Everybody around here knows everybody."

"Guthrie," I said, fixing him with a stern look. "Just listen, okay?"

"Okay, okay."

"This lady isn't from around here. She's from Nevada." I paused for dramatic effect.

"She sure drove a long way to get a hamburger," Guthrie said, with a grin.

"She's mama's sister, Guth," I said, all in a rush, watching his face for a reaction.

Guthrie looked at me, his forehead wrinkled in puzzled lines.

"Huh?"

"Mama's sister. Her name's Karissa."

"Mom didn't have a sister."

"Yes, she did."

"I think she's some loony female who's yanking your chain," he said, with a skeptical shake of his head.

"There's no way that it can't be for real," I said. "She knew too many things, Guth."

"Why wouldn't we have known about her then?" Guthrie pointed out.

"I'm not certain on that yet," I admitted. "Something about Adam and Brian telling her

to not come around us."

"That makes no sense. I mean, if they did say that to her, they must have thought she

was gonna be bad for us."

"Yeah. What could she have done though? That was bad enough for them to tell her that? She

seems nice. Sad. A little bitter, maybe. But nice."

"Nice for a while of talking doesn't make her nice for real," Guthrie pointed out.

"True," I conceded. "But she said she tried to see us when we were little."

"Hmm," Guthrie said. He was quiet for a few moments, and I could tell he was thinking

it over. "What did she say about mom?" he asked then, quietly.

"She told me all kinds of things!" I started telling Guthrie about some of the stories of

our mother's childhood.

"There's a lot more she wants to talk about," I said.

"Well," he said, giving me a long look. "What's that mean?"

"She wants me to call her, so we can meet up again."

"Hmm," he said again. "Well, talk to Adam and Brian about it."

"No! She asked me to wait to tell them."

"She asked you to lie? That's not right, Har."

"Not lie," I denied. "Just wait a little while. She's worried they'll still be against her, I think."

He was quiet for several minutes, and finally I spoke up. "Well? What do you think?"

"I'm not sure. I have to think about it."

"Don't you want to know more about mom?" I asked him.

"Well, yeah. That'd be nice," he agreed.

"She's a piece of mom, Guthrie. She's like the only real piece of mom that I've ever

had."

Guthrie, pulling into our driveway, stopped the truck beside Evan's, and turned off the ignition.

"That's not true," he argued. "We're all a piece of mom."

"I know. But this is different. Can't you try to understand?"

"I understand, I guess. I just don't want you to get hurt."

"Why would I get hurt?" I asked him, not understanding why he would think that.

"I don't know. It just seems like the whole thing has trouble on it."

"Why?" I demanded.

"If they didn't want her around, there must be a reason for it."

I sighed, looking straight ahead stubbornly.

"I just want to talk to her some more, Guth."

7

That night, after supper and homework, and my shower, I curled up in the big chair by

the fireplace, poring over the photo albums again. It seemed like I wasn't seeing any that

I hadn't seen a bunch of times before. What I really wanted was to find some pictures of

my mother as a child, or a teenager.

I went upstairs to get ready for bed, and it was while I was brushing my teeth that Brian

came to stand in the open doorway.

"Hi," I said, around the toothpaste.

"Hi."

I spit into the sink, and then took a drink, rinsing out my mouth.

"You okay?" he asked me.

"Yeah." I wondered why he was asking me that. "Why?"

"You've been pretty quiet the last couple of nights."

"I have?" I looked up at him, and shrugged a little. "That should make you guys happy, right?" I crossed

my eyes at him jokingly.

"Oh, it would, for sure," he joked back. Then more seriously, he added, "Unless something's botherin'

you. Then I wouldn't feel so good about it."

Looking at him then, I felt as though Brian could almost read my thoughts. I knew he couldn't really, of

course, but still, the way he was watching me was a little disconcerting.

Brian, in his own way, is as perceptive as Crane or Daniel.

"I have some things on my mind, I guess," I admitted.

"Anything you want to talk about?" he asked.

I hesitated. "Not right now," I said.

"Okay," he said, not pushing the issue.

As we walked beside each other down the hall towards my room, I asked him, "Remember those pictures

of mama that you gave me for my birthday?"

"Yeah."

"The first one? Where it looks like she's my age? Where did you find that?"

Brian looked thoughtful for a moment. "If I remember right, I think it was in an old hatbox we found left

up in the attic, from when we remodeled."

"Was that the only picture? Or was there others?"

"There were several, I think. Mixed in with some old paperwork."

"Where's it at? The hatbox?"

"I think still up there somewhere. Clare might know."

"Okay," I said, pausing at the door to my bedroom. "Thanks."

Brian reached out to cup my chin in his hand. "Sure you're alright?" he asked.

"I'm sure."

7

When I came out of school the next afternoon, I was nearly to where Guthrie had parked

his truck that morning, when I saw the white car. I was nearly certain that it was Karissa, but

when I stopped walking and shaded my eyes from the sun to look, she stepped out of the car

and waved to me.

I laid my books in the truck seat, and crossed the street to where she stood.

"Hi."

"Hello, Harlie. I hadn't heard from you so I thought I'd take the chance to speak to you

here."

"I've had school and stuff," I said, by way of explanation. I didn't mention that I was still coming

to terms with the fact that we had an honest to goodness relative that we hadn't known about.

"Oh, certainly. I understand you're busy." She took off her sunglasses and smiled at me.

"I was just anxious to talk with you again. Do you have some time now?"

"Maybe for a little while." I looked over towards the school parking lot. Guthrie was leaning

against the truck, talking to someone, I thought it was Lonnie. Guthrie probably thought I hadn't come

out of the school building yet.

"Let me get Guthrie," I told her.

"You've told Guthrie?" she asked, looking a little startled.

"Yes. But he won't say anything."

"I see."

I thought I heard an edge to her voice, but I ignored it, thinking I must be mistaken.

I ran back over to the truck.

"Hey, Harlie," Lonnie said.

"Hi, Lonnie."

They kept on talking about going hunting, and the new crossbow that Lonnie had just gotten.

I grew impatient, and stuck my knuckles in Guthrie's side where it couldn't be seen. I pushed

a little, but he kept on talking.

I pushed a little harder, but all he did was say, "Knock it off," to me.

"Let's go," I hissed.

"In a minute," he said, with maddening calmness.

By the time Lonnie had sauntered away, Guthrie turned to me, looking irritated.

"Since when are you in such a hurry to get home to chores?" he demanded.

"I'm not. It's Karissa. She's here."

"Where?" he asked, looking around.

"Across the street."

Guthrie turned to look. "Is that her car?" he asked, with a low whistle.

"I guess it's hers. I didn't ask. Come on."

"What?" he asked, standing still.

"She wants to talk to us. She wants to see you."

"Did she say that?" he asked, and I wrinkled my forehead at him. And though she hadn't asked

about talking to Guthrie at all, I thought that of course she'd want to. After all, she'd tried to see both of

us when we were younger. She'd said so.

So I fudged the truth a little. "Of course she did. Come on!"

Still Guthrie hesitated. "I don't know, Har," he said.

"For gosh sakes, why not?!"

"It feels weird. And, I guess I'm kind of nervous," he admitted.

"You won't be after you meet her." I took his hand, and tugged him along.

We crossed the street, and when we were beside the car, I dropped Guthrie's hand.

"Hello, Guthrie," Karissa said, her voice sounding a little uncertain.

"Hullo," Guthrie said.

"My goodness, you look like your father."

"Yes, ma'm."

"Ma'm? Well, it's been a long while since I heard that," Karissa said. She reached out and

took Guthrie's hand in hers. "I'm glad to see you, Guthrie. It's been a long time. Since you were around two or three, I

think."

Guthrie nodded.

"Where shall we go so we can talk?" she asked, looking at both of us.

"We could go to the park," I suggested.

"Fine," she said.

When Guthrie didn't say anything, I nudged him. "That's okay, right, Guth?"

"Yeah. Okay," he said, but I heard the hesitation in his voice.

I rode with Guthrie to the park, with Karissa following along behind us in her car.

As soon as we were alone, walking back to the truck, Guthrie started laying down the law to me.

"We're not stayin' for a real long time," he warned me. "Thirty minutes at the most."

"Why?" I asked, looking at him incredulously.

"We've got chores. Remember? And I don't want anybody at home askin' questions about where

we were. Unless you're ready to tell them?" he asked.

"I don't know. Maybe." I climbed into my side of the truck, and looked across the cab at him. "You act

like you don't want to talk to her."

Guthrie shrugged. "It just feels weird."

"Talk to her for awhile. You'll feel different then."

"We'll see," Guthrie said.

When we'd parked, we got out and we all went to sit at one of the picnic tables.

I sat beside Guthrie and Karissa sat across from us.

She asked Guthrie if it had been a surprise to hear about her.

"A shock, yes, ma'm," Guthrie told her.

"Ma'm again? Please, Guthrie, call me Karissa. I'm hoping to hear Aunt Karissa from you both at some point."

I looked at Guthrie to see what he thought about that, but he showed no reaction.

"I'd like to ask you some questions," Guthrie said.

"Yes. Certainly."

"I'm not tryin' to sound rude or anything, but I've been wondering why you were never around

before?" Guthrie asked.

"As I told Harlie, Adam and Brian, too, they both suggested strongly that they didn't want me to visit,

or interfere with you kids-"

"Why?" Guthrie asked, with a directness that I could startled Karissa a little bit.

"Well-it was just one of those things that sometimes happens between people. They didn't particularly

like me, or trust me. And with them being so young themselves, well they were just a little bit full of

themselves, and cocky, I think."

Guthrie didn't like that, I could tell by his stiffening up. I didn't care for it, either, but I was inclined to be

less put out, mostly because I wanted to hear more about our mother.

"Why would they say that, though?" Guthrie persisted. "It seems as though they would have been glad

to have had you around. They had a tough time. They could have used the help."

His voice had a bit of accusation in it.

"I would have been more than willing to help, Guthrie, I assure you. They didn't want it. I did come around a bit

for awhile after your mother was killed. But then they decided that I wasn't to visit ."

"Just like that?" Guthrie asked, looking skeptical.

"As I said, there were issues between us. Misunderstandings. Unfortunately, we never resolved the issues. I've

sent letters over the years. I never got any response."

"Hmm," Guthrie said, looking thoughtful.

I felt that this little meet and greet wasn't getting off on the right foot.

"Can you tell us something about mom?" I intervened, hoping to steer the talk to something that would make

Guthrie settle down.

Instantly, Karissa got more animated. "Oh, yes! Anything in particular you want to know?"

Since Guthrie didn't speak up, I said, "Probably some more about when she was a kid. Or a teenager."

"Alright." And Karissa launched into a story about when mom had been a Girl Scout, and had been

set on the goal of selling the most cookies of anybody else in the troop. She had camped out on the neighbor's doorstep

the morning after she'd picked up her cookies, so as to be the first Girl Scout knocking on the door. She'd then worked her

way down the street, selling to most of the residents on that street and the next street over, before any of the other girls

were even up and about.

Karissa laughed a little. "Some of the neighbors weren't too happy to be woken up so early, but when they saw that it was

Kate, they were forgiving. All of the neighborhood loved her."

After that, Karissa asked us a few questions, about what we both liked to do, and what grade we were in at school.

When she asked what our plans were after high school graduation, she looked at Guthrie first.

"How about you, Guthrie?"

"I haven't decided," Guthrie said. "Probably a trade school."

Karissa didn't attempt to hide her look of dismay. "A trade school? Why not college?"

"Trade school for welding or somethin'," Guthrie said. "I'm not really thinking that I'll spend four years in college. I plan

to stay around to work the ranch."

"And Adam and Brian-they're fine with you not furthering you education?" Karissa asked.

The way she said it seemed to suggest that there was something wrong with Guthrie not pursuing a college degree.

Before Guthrie could answer, I spoke up. "Our family is fine with us doing whatever we want to do. As long as we finish

high school, they understand. They want us to go to college, I mean, if that's what we want-"

Guthrie gave me a look that plainly said he was aggravated, so I shut up.

"I see," Karissa said. I'd began to notice that she said that quite a bit.

"Welders make decent money," Guthrie informed her. "And, like I said, I plan on living and working on the ranch."

"What about you, Harlie?" she asked.

I told her I planned to go to college, and then veterinary school.

"A veterinarian? That's certainly a noble profession," she said, with a smile. I got the feeling, though, that she

didn't quite approve.

After a few more minutes, Guthrie pushed away from the picnic table. "We need to be goin'," he said, and stood up.

I was disappointed. I'd hoped to hear more about when our mother was a teenager, and all of that.

"Oh, the time went so quickly," Karissa said, sounding disappointed, too.

"We've got chores," Guthrie said.

Karissa stood up, too, smoothing her skirt. "Yes, there's always a lot of those to do on a ranch, isn't there?"

I sighed, and got to my feet. Guthrie was shuffling his feet and looking a little uncomfortable.

"Well," he hesitated, "goodbye."

"Goodbye, Guthrie," Karissa answered.

Guthrie walked on to the truck, and I turned to look at Karissa.

"I'm glad we could talk for a while," she said, and I nodded.

"Is there a time we could meet again? When we could have a longer conversation?" she asked.

"I'll talk to Guthrie-"

"I don't think Guthrie was all that happy to talk to me," she shared.

She sounded sad, and I felt bad for her. I didn't think Guthrie had been rude, or anything, but he hadn't

exactly been friendly, either.

"Guthrie just takes a while to warm up to people," I told her.

Karissa nodded, but didn't look convinced.

"Perhaps it could be just the two of us the next time," she suggested.

I considered that, thinking that might be best, at least until Guthrie got used to the idea a little more.

"Okay. I have a night class at the high school on Wednesday nights. Tomorrow. Maybe you could meet me there

before it starts? If you want to."

"That sounds wonderful. What time?"

"The class starts at six. Maybe you could meet me about five?" I asked.

"I'll be there. Would you like me to bring some pictures of when your mother was a little girl?"

"Yes." I could hardly believe my luck. "And some of her as a teenager. If you have any?"

She smiled. "I do. And I'll bring them as well."

"Okay. Bye," I said.

She said goodbye, and I ran to the truck. I didn't want to make Guthrie any more irritated by having

to wait on me. I got in the cab, and shut my door, looking at Guthrie, a little breathless from running.

"What do you think?" I asked immediately.

"I don't trust her," Guthrie said, and pressed on the gas as we sped out of the city limits.

7