When I went inside, the first thing I planned to do was take the big box up to my room before anyone besides

Evan got a look at it. Unfortunately, like many of my plans, that ran into a bit of a snag.

I don't know where Crane and Guthrie were at that particular moment, but Adam and Brian and Ford were

sprawled on the two couches, that were both still in the spots away from the walls where I'd moved them to clean.

"Doing some rearranging?" Brian asked me.

"I was vacuuming behind the couches," I said.

He nodded, and I avoided Adam's eye altogether, starting up the stairs with my box, holding it against my leg so it

wasn't so obvious.

"What was the UPS guy doin' here?" Adam asked, in a general way. "Was he lost and needing directions?"

I exchanged a look with Evan.

"Umm, no," I said. "He was dropping off a package." I lifted the package a little so it could be seen.

"One of our wives has been shopping," Brian said, in a joking way to Adam.

"Most likely yours," Adam returned, joking too.

"I'll bet you a dollar that it's yours," Brian said. "What store is it from?" he asked me then.

I already knew the answer since I'd looked at the return address.

"Macy's," I admitted.

Brian whistled. "That's pricey, right there."

Brian got up and came over to where I was standing at the foot of the stairs. "Let me see," he said, and before I could

tell him that it wasn't Clare's, or Hannah's, but mine, he was tipping the package up, and reading the label aloud.

"Harlie McFadden, 1095 Valley Road, Murphys, California."

He turned loose of the box, and looked at me.

"Wrong female, Adam. It's Harlie that's been shopping," he said.

I should have told them right then. They were both in the same room, at the same time. And Ford was there to provide

moral support, even though Karissa would come as a shock to him, too.

But I just couldn't. I looked at Brian, and then towards Adam, and I just couldn't do it. It wasn't the right time. Not while

I was standing there holding what was more than likely an expensive present in my arms. That wouldn't help my case at all.

It would make it look like Karissa was trying to 'buy' my affection. It would seem as if our relationship was extremely deep. And

that would just make my deception about her seem that much worse.

So I just sort of ducked my head at Brian, and then hurried up the stairs to put the box on my bed. I was wildly curious

about what was inside, but I didn't want to raise their suspicions, or get Adam any more angry at me for not doing

my chores.

I went back downstairs, and Brian and Adam were still sitting there, though Ford had gone. I could hear him and Evan

talking in the kitchen.

I shoved one of the chairs back into place. As I pushed at the couch that they weren't sitting on, they both stood up,

and helped me, pushing the couch back against the wall effortlessly.

"Thanks," I mumbled.

"It looks good in here," Adam said. "I know Hannah will appreciate all the cleaning you've done."

I met his eye. "Thank you," I said again, but clearly this time.

He nodded. I suddenly had the urge to keep him talking to me. "I thought I'd make tacos for supper," I offered. "Does that

sound alright to you guys?"

"Anything I don't have to cook is alright with me," Brian said.

I waited, and Adam said, "Same here. Tacos sound good."

"Okay." I was scrunching up my courage to apologize to him, for being snotty, and for thinking he had another motive for

telling me to go outside earlier, but before I could do it, he and Brian started talking, and then they went back outside together.

I went to the kitchen, feeling discouraged, and a little mad at myself for not speaking up when I had the chance. I started getting

hamburger out of the freezer, and thawing it out in the microwave, and then got out a head of lettuce and some tomatoes.

"What are you makin'?" Ford asked, with the interest of a young guy who's always hungry.

"Tacos."

"Cool," Ford said, in approval. "How about making some of those killer lemon bars of yours?"

I tried to smile at him, even though I felt so low. "I guess I can."

The phone started ringing and Evan said, "I'll get it," and went off to the living room.

"What's wrong, Har?" Ford asked, leaning against the cabinet and watching me as I started slicing up tomatoes on the cutting board.

I shrugged, and didn't answer.

"There's worse things than being grounded, you know," he said.

"I know."

"You're not gonna help your case any by dragging around and acting like you're being wrongly accused, or somethin'."

"I'm not trying to act that way. I just wish Adam would believe the part about me not drinking last night."

"He will. Wait until he cools down and try talking to him again," Ford advised.

"I have something really big to talk to him about," I said, hacking at the head of lettuce.

Just when Evan had come back into the kitchen, reporting that Hannah had called and said she was staying in town

at Marie's until later in the evening and visiting with some of the other women from church.

"I told her you were makin' supper," Evan told me. "She said to tell you thanks a lot."

"I'm glad Hannah's getting out of the house for an evening," Ford said, taking a slice of tomato and popping it in

his mouth.

"Yeah. She deserves it," Evan agreed.

When the phone rang again, Evan sighed, and went back to the living room. A moment later, he reappeared at the kitchen

doorway. "Phone for you, shortcake," he said.

I looked up from my lettuce butchering. "Who is it?"

"I dunno. Didn't ask. Sounds like that same lady that called a few days ago."

Oh. I hesitated, wondering what to do. It would be Karissa, more than likely.

"Didn't Adam say no phone when he grounded you?" Ford asked me. When I nodded, they exchanged a look.

"If that's what he said, then you'd better listen," Evan said. "No sense in gettin' yourself into more trouble."

"I'll find out who it is, and take a message for ya," he said, and started back out of the kitchen.

"No!" I said, so loudly that they both looked at me as if I'd lost my mind.

"I mean, don't ask who it is, or what they want or anything," I told him, flustered.

When Evan frowned at that, I said, "Can't you just say that I can't come to the phone? Please, Ev?"

Grumbling some words that sounded like 'crazy', Evan went back off to the telephone.

I went to the living room, to listen for myself what Evan said. Ford followed me, munching on an apple.

Evan did what I'd asked, saying that I wasn't able to come to the phone right then. I waited, while he appeared to be listening,

and then he looked a little startled, and said, "It's Evan."

When he'd hung up, he turned to Ford and I, and said, "That was weird."

My heart started pounding. What had Karissa said to him?

"What's weird?" Ford asked, around his apple.

"She asked me if it was Ford or Evan she was talking to. Then when I told her it was me, she laughed, and hung up."

They both looked at me then. "Who is it?" Evan asked.

"You didn't ask, remember?" I said, trying to deflect his questions.

"Because you told me not to ask, knothead," Evan said in response, looking irritated.

They both looked as though they were going to keep pestering me. Evan looked as though he was

intent on an answer.

"Come on, Harlie," Evan insisted. "You're actin' all squirrely about this. What's goin' on?"

"Yeah, Har. What's up?" Ford asked.

"It's somebody who knows you from when you were little," I said.

"Somebody from church that moved away?" Ford asked.

"No, not from church," I said.

"She sounded pretty loony," Evan said.

"She's not loony," I said slowly, "just a little bit strange, maybe. Different."

"Who is she?" Evan demanded.

"She's related to us," I said, facing them. "She's our aunt."

"You mean like Marie?" Ford asked, referring to the relationship we have with Marie, where she's not biologically related,

but stands in as a grandmother to us.

"No. Not like that. I mean, really related. She's mama's sister."

They both stared at me, looking confused.

"I don't remember hearin' anything about an aunt," Evan said slowly, looking thoughtful.

"You don't remember her at all?" I asked. "She used to come around, she said."

"No. I don't remember," Evan said.

"Maybe before mama died?" I asked him. "She was probably around a lot then."

Evan shook his head. "What's her name?"

"Karissa."

"I don't remember Mom talking about a sister," Evan said. "And I know I don't remember seein' her."

"What about you, Ford?" I asked, turning to him.

Ford shook his head, but I thought he looked a little funny.

There wasn't time to delve into why he looked so thoughtful, though, because Crane stuck his head in the front door

long enough to say, "Breaks over, boys. Come on!"

"We're comin'," Evan called back, and when the door slammed again behind Crane, they were both still standing there,

looking serious at me.

"How'd this happen?" Evan asked.

"She just showed up. And we started talking-"

"Showed up, like out of nowhere?" Ford asked, looking incredulous.

"Yeah. Pretty much like that," I said.

"Have you been meetin' up with this kook?" Evan demanded.

"A couple of times," I admitted, and then added, "and she's not a kook, Ev."

"The jury's still out on that one," Evan said, sounding doubtful. "And how is that being honest, Harlie? I thought honesty was your

big thing right now."

He couldn't have picked anything that pricked my conscience more.

"I wanted to hear the stories," I defended myself. "Then she asked me to wait to tell them because she said

they hate her. And then-it just seemed to get bigger and bigger, until it got away from me."

"Why would they hate her?" Ford asked.

"She says there was just lots of misunderstandings. They thought she wanted to take over, or something, and she says they

were stubborn, and full of themselves."

"Come on, Evan," Ford said, defending me, "you can see how confusing it was for her."

"Yeah. I guess," Evan conceded.

"You're not going to tell them, are you?" I implored him.

"No."

Before I could sigh in relief, he added, "You are. Tonight."

"I've been trying to figure it out! There's just never a right time!" I told him.

"Well, tonight will have to be the right time," Evan said firmly.

"Evan's right," Ford said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "You can't carry this around by yourself anymore."

"Okay," I said, secretly relieved that they were taking charge of the situation. I leaned my head against Ford's chest for a minute.

We were all startled by Brian's roar as he burst thru the front door. "Hey, you deadbeats! You don't belong to a union,

you know. Back to work!" Brian stopped at the sight of all three of us, huddled there together in the living room, obviously involved in an intense conversation.

"I forgot my gloves," he said, by way of explanation for coming back inside, and grabbed his leather work gloves off

the coffee table where he'd left them. He surveyed all three of us, his forehead wrinkled questioningly.

"Everything alright in here?" he asked, his voice concerned.

"Yeah," Evan said. "Except Harlie has somethin' she needs to talk to you about. You and Adam."

"Okay," Brian said slowly, and took a couple steps closer to us. "After supper? Or now?"

Evan and Ford both looked at me, giving me the chance to decide.

"After supper is okay," I said, in a small voice.

Brian nodded, and Ford patted my back and followed Evan and Brian outside.

I went back to the kitchen, and finished frying up the hamburger. Setting that aside, I got out the ingredients for

Ford's lemon bars, and mixed them up, putting them into the oven. I finished chopping the tomatoes, lettuce and onions, and

left them all on the cutting board. I got a big bowl down from the cabinet, and got out a block of cheese and the grater and

started grating the cheese into the bowl.

Involved as I was with my own thoughts, and dread of the evening ahead, I was careless, and scraped the tips of my

fingers on the grater. The side of my index finger caught the worst of it, and blood began to run down my hand.

"Bat shit!" I cursed, and moved the bowl of cheese away from the harm of blood.

I stepped over to the sink, and turned on the faucet, letting the cold water run over my hand. I was still standing there,

watching blood run down the drain along with the water, when the back door opened, and Adam came in.

"Hey," he said, letting the screen door slap shut behind him.

"Hey," I said, without turning from the sink.

He went to the refrigerator and got out the pitcher of tea, coming over to pull a glass from the cabinet.

"Hannah's stayin' in town for awhile," he said.

"Yeah. Evan told me."

Adam gave a look around at the meal preparations. "It looks like you've got supper under control in here."

"Yeah," I said, still holding my hand under the water.

Noticing for the first time what I was doing, Adam stepped closer. "What happened?"

"I wasn't paying attention to what I was doing."

"Did you cut it with that butcher knife?" he asked, looking towards the large knife laying on the cutting board, and sounding

alarmed. "Let me see."

As he started to take my hand to look at it, I said, "No, it's just from the cheese grater."

"Oh, okay," he said, sounding relieved. He held my hand up a little, while the blood was still running from it. "You still

managed to do some damage, didn't you?"

"I guess," I said, and he looked at me for a moment, and then let go of my hand. "Keep holdin' it under there," he said,

and while I held it under the water, he went to take down the first aid kit from the top cabinet.

"Is the bleeding slowin' down any?" he asked.

"I think so," I said, holding my hand up to look at it.

Adam reached over to turn off the water, and then handed me a paper towel.

I dried my hand and he took it in one of his hands, and put antibiotic ointment on my finger and knuckles and then

put a large bandaid over the worst part of the finger.

As he was doing that, he said, "Brian says you want to talk to us right after supper."

I didn't want to. I needed to. But I didn't say that.

I nodded, and said nothing, keeping my eyes on what he was doing with my hand and the bandaid.

"Is this to talk about what's been workin' over your insides the last few days?" he asked, referring to the fact that he knew I'd been bothered lately by something.

"Yes, sir," I said, still not looking at him.

"Sir, huh? This must be somethin' major," Adam said lightly, and I looked up at him.

I was quiet, though, biting at my lip.

Adam put the first aid kit away, and shut the cabinet door, turning back to me.

"Alright, then," he said. He stood there a moment or two longer, and then finished his glass of tea in one long swig, and went back

outside without saying anything more.

7