I had the meat hot and all the taco ingredients set on the table in bowls by the time my brothers all started streaming into the house, via the back door. I'd even finished grating the cheese, despite my previous encounter with the cheese grater.

I'd made some sun tea earlier and had it setting in the center of the table. The pan with Ford's lemon bars was next to it.

I was in the process of setting plates around the table at each person's spot, as they all came in, washing up at the sink, and talking amongst themselves.

"I forgot to tell you that Mrs. Stevens called last night, and said she needed to switch your tutoring time to tomorrow afternoon

instead," Crane told me, pausing behind me, on his way to his chair.

"Oh. Okay." I hadn't even thought about why she hadn't come for tutoring. The time had come and gone, and my mind had been too occupied with my own problems to notice.

"How'd you do on that essay for your English night class?" he asked.

I stopped setting plates down to look at him. "I turned it in Wednesday night. She might give them back this week."

He nodded. "I'd like to read it, when you do get it back."

"I've got a rough draft you can read, if you want," I told him.

"Sure. Sounds good," he said, and went on to his spot at the table.

I kept setting the plates at chairs, hoping that Crane would still want to read my essay after he'd heard what I had to

say about Karissa.

With both Hannah and Clare's chairs vacant, the talk at the table was mostly ranch stuff, drifting into

places that Hannah would have said wasn't appropriate table conversation. Even Clare would have said something like, "Okay, guys, I'm eating. Change the subject."

But, without them there, I didn't try to change the talk that was going on. It didn't bother me, for one thing. I'd grown

up around such talk at the table. For another thing, it's not as if they'd take any notice of anything I said anyway.

I don't know why, but the thought suddenly came to me of Karissa, and her reaction to the talk, if she'd been sitting there. She'd be horrified, I was sure. It would reinforce the opinion she had of ranch life. That my brother were just a bunch of uncouth rednecks.

I wondered, though, if she would ever sit at our table for a meal, as a welcomed guest. I hoped so.

After supper, while Crane and Evan did the dishes, I went to Evan's room, to talk to Captain Jack. He peered thru the cage at me, and started hopping on one foot. I liked to think that he recognized me.

"Ford's the boss! Ford's the boss!" he started squawking, dancing on his perch.

I had to smile at that. "You hateful old bird," I told him. "You're black-hearted, you know that?"

I was considering whether or not to take the risk of trying to pet him, when Ford appeared in the open doorway.

"Hey, don't be callin' my bird names like that," he told me.

"Your bird, huh?" I challenged.

Ford shrugged and grinned, and I said, "Well, I guess he is kind of your bird now, isn't he?"

"Especially," I added, giving him a poke, "since you've obviously worked so hard to teach him to say those crazy things."

"What crazy things?" Ford asked, pretending offense.

"You know what," I told him. "Ford's the boss! Ford's the boss!" I mocked.

"Truth, truth," Ford said.

I sat down on the edge of his bed. His bed, since it was neatly made up, while Evan's was a jumble of blankets and extra clothes.

I pulled my knees up, and wrapped my arms around them, watching as Ford opened the cage, and Captain Jack walked right out onto Ford's arm.

I'd only ever seen one other person able to handle Captain Jack like that, and that had been Doc G.

"How about that?" Ford asked proudly.

"I'm truly amazed," I said, and I meant it.

Guthrie came in and flopped down beside me. "What's goin' on?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Just watching Ford perform miracles with Captain Jack."

"Hey, Ford, let's hear him say some of those swear words he's learned at college," Guthrie encouraged, grinning.

We were laughing at that, when Brian appeared in the doorway.

"Come on downstairs, Harlie."

He turned and went back down the hall without waiting to see if I was following. I sighed, and stood up,

pulling my shirt down in the back.

"I'll come down with ya," Guthrie said, and I nodded at him in appreciation.

"You come too, Ford," I begged.

"Okay. After I put Captain Jack away, I'll be down," Ford said.

When we went down the stairs, Brian and Adam were sitting in the living room, on opposite couches, both with a beer

in their hands.

Guthrie sat down on the other end of Brian's couch, and I sat on the edge of the oversized chair.

"How's your hand?" Adam asked me.

My hand hurt from the run-in with the cheese grater. But, I'd had much worse injuries in the past.

"It's okay," I said.

I didn't say anything at first, looking at them both, and trying to think of the best way to open the

conversation. Should I blurt it straight out, or go into it the long way, with lots of preparation?

"So. What's up?" Brian asked finally.

I opted for the long way.

"When I was working at the Dari Kurl, there was this lady who was there one afternoon. I'd never seen her before, but

she knew who I was."

They looked at me, waiting. Crane came from the kitchen, and sat down beside Adam, quiet.

"She said that I looked just like my mom." I said that quietly, and then I was silent. They were all three

looking, not puzzled exactly, just more as if they were waiting for the zinger, or the point.

"Just tell them, Har," Guthrie spoke up.

I knew he was right. No sense to prolonging it.

"It's mama's sister," I said.

The old saying? The one about where 'you could have heard a pin drop'? That's what it was like in our living room for the

next few moments.

"What are you talkin' about?" Brian demanded. Which I thought was sort of a silly question.

"Mama's sister. Karissa," I clarified.

Into the stunned silence, I added, "Aunt Karissa."

I waited for them to deny it. For them to say there was no such person. That this person had to be a 'kook' as Evan suggested.

That, when I told them about all those photo albums upstairs in my room, that they would

say she must have got them another way, that she was a fraud who stole other people's pictures, and said that they were her own. That our mother hadn't had a sister at all. All of that.

I think that subconsciously I sort of hoped they would say any or all of those things. As much as I wanted a connection to my mom, if all this was on the up and up, that would mean that they had kept a family member from me. And Guthrie. And Ford.

But they didn't say any of those things at all. They looked at one another. Deep, revealing looks exchanged between the three of them, and then Adam said, "Mom had a sister. They weren't close. But it wasn't Karissa that she went by."

He looked at Brian for help. "What was it, Brian?"

Brian had that edgy look to his face, the sign that he's starting to simmer about something. "Hell, I don't remember. It's been fifteen years!"

"Margaret," Crane said quietly, and everybody looked at him.

"Yeah. That's it," Adam agreed, and turned back to me. "It was Margaret. So, this woman just showed up at the Dari Kurl?"

I nodded, and Brian said, "What the hell is she doin'? Probably it's just somebody pretending to

know Mom."

"No," I hurried to explain. "It really is her, Brian. She said she wasn't sure how to approach me. Or to approach you guys, I mean."

Brian gave a humph which I took to mean that he disagreed.

"She said she just happened to be at the Dari Kurl to get a drink or something. She didn't know I was going to be

there."

They clearly didn't believe that, by the expressions on their faces.

"That's bullshit," Brian said.

Adam raised a hand to halt Brian's tirade. "Hold on a minute, Brian." He turned to me, leaning forward, his arms resting

on his knees, and his hands clasped.

"What happened then?" he asked me.

"We talked-she told me about when Mom was a little girl, and then she said she tried to be around when we were little."

"Tried to be around!" Brian expostulated, and stood up, pacing back and forth.

"What about after that night?" Adam asked me.

I bit my lip, looking at Guthrie. Guthrie gave me the smallest nod of his head.

"She came by school a couple of times," I said.

"You saw her, too?" Adam asked Guthrie.

"Yeah," Guthrie said. "At the school."

"And that's all?" Adam asked me, looking at me so intently that I felt like squirming. When I hesitated, he said,

"That's not all, is it, Harlie?" in a sort of disappointed voice.

"No," I admitted, barely above a whisper.

"This is the time to be tellin' us," he said.

"She met me before my class Wednesday night," I said.

"That's why you didn't stay to eat at Lori's," he said, more a statement than a question.

I didn't answer, and he went on. "Did you even go to class that night?"

"Yes, Adam, I did!" I suddenly, desparately, wanted him to believe me.

"We went to eat, and then I went to class." I saw no point in telling them that supper had been all the way to Modesto, or that I'd missed half of the class.

"And then, afterwards, she was waiting in the parking lot, and she gave me some stuff-"

"What stuff?" Brian demanded, looking angry. "What are you doin', taking things from somebody you don't even know?"

"Photo albums, Bri," I said. "It was pictures. Of Mom, when she was growing up."

"Oh," Brian said, but he didn't appear to be all that mollified.

I thought about just skipping the part about the gift of the cashmere sweater. But Hannah knew about it, and she would

expect me to have told them. Things were bad enough, I thought. I didn't want them hearing it from Hannah.

"And a sweater," I added quickly.

"A sweater," Adam said, slowly, deliberately, as if he was thinking.

"Yes. A sweater."

"Why would she give you a sweater?" Brian asked.

Another silly question.

"Because she wanted to be nice, I guess. I don't know," I said vaguely.

"This is crazy," Brian said, starting to pace again. "It's just insane."

"Maybe not," Crane said, quietly.

"You remember, Crane," Brian said, in protest, stopping long enough to look at Crane. "You remember how it was."

"Yeah. I remember," Crane said.

What was it that they all remembered? What Crane remembered as a twelve year old? Before I could ask any of the questions that I had, Adam said, "What did she have to say?"

"This should be good," Brian muttered.

"Why'd she show up now?" Crane asked.

"She said she's lonely," I said, "and that she doesn't have any family, and that she'd like to have a relationship with

all of us."

A look of disbelief from all three of them.

"Now, that is bullshit, right there," Brian told me. "She didn't say any such thing."

How did he know that?

"Is that what she really said, Harlie?" Adam asked me.

"She said she's lonely. And that she doesn't have any family."

"And?" Brian prompted me, with a raised eyebrow.

"And that she wants to have a relationship with me," I admitted. "But I know she wants to make things right with you guys."

They were quiet for another moment or so, and then Adam said, sounding irritated, "For God's sake, Brian, stop pacing back and forth like that!"

Brian grumbled under his breath, but went to sit back down, picking up his beer, and taking another drink.

Ford came down the stairs and into the living room, standing off to the side, near the fireplace, being quiet and

looking serious.

There was such a long, uncomfortable silence in the room that I looked towards Guthrie, and he read my unspoken plea.

"Har didn't know what to do," Guthrie said in my defense. "She didn't know how to handle it."

"Then you should have told her exactly how to handle it," Brian snapped, and Guthrie looked hurt.

"Don't yell at Guthrie," I said stoutly. "It's not his fault. Not at all. He told me to tell you guys!"

"Then why didn't you?" Adam said.

"I was waiting for the right time," I said, and knew instantly that I had said the wrong thing.

"The right time?" Adam asked, and then repeated the words, as if he couldn't quite believe that I'd

said something so foolish. "The right time."

"I told you days ago that I wanted to talk to you both!" I defended myself.

"That's true," he conceded. "And I'll take responsibility for not following thru Thursday night, with the

cow and calf, and everything. But Friday morning? Friday night? What about those?"

"We could have had this conversation last night instead of you goin' to some damn party," Brian

said, sounding disgusted. And mad. Very mad.

"Well, we're having it now," I said, even though I knew I shouldn't. Because it was a smart-ass type of

answer.

"Harlie Marie," Brian said, "You do not want to take that tone with me. Trust me, you do not."

"Alright. I'm sorry," I said, caving instantly.

"Sorry for what?" he demanded. "Sorry for bein' a smart ass? Or sorry for lyin' about this whole thing, and

hidin' it from us? Slipping behind our backs to see her?"

Wow. He was majorly winding up. This was not going well. Not at all.

"I've been feeling bad about it," I said, honestly. "I didn't like keeping it from you all. I wanted to tell you,

because I was excited about it! I wanted to ask you about what happened between you and Karissa, and

I wanted to keep seeing and talking to her, too, because she knows things. Things that I want to know."

There, I thought. That explained it all, in a very mature manner. That should smooth things over. Umm, no.

"Well, you can forget about seein' her," Brian said. "Or even talkin' to her, for that matter. You're to

stay away from her, Harlie."

I stared at him, stunned. Stunned that he'd shut me down like that. Stunned that he was so vehement.

"Is that honestly all that you got out of what I just said?" I asked him. "I told you that I didn't like keeping

it from you, that I want to talk to her because she knows things, things that I've never known before!"

"And I told you no," Brian said, and took a drink from his beer, setting the bottle down so hard on the table

that I was surprised it didn't break.

I turned to Adam, appealing to him. "Adam?"

"There's a lot that you kids don't know," Adam said. "Brian's right to be concerned-"

I stood up, so agitated that I was shaking. "Then tell me! Tell me what it is that we don't know!"

Adam leaned forward, lacing, and then unlacing his fingers, back and forth, together, then apart.

"Sit down, Harlie," he said, and it wasn't a request. More of an order.

I sat again, perched on the edge of the chair.

"She wasn't good for you kids," Adam said, slowly, sounding tense. "She had problems."

"She drank wine, and you guys didn't like it," I said. "I know. She told me. I don't see the big deal."

Brian's eyes glittered. "Oh, you don't, huh?" he asked, dangerously quiet.

"No," I said, and then lest I be accused of being disrespectful again, I added, "I mean, you guys

drink, too."

A quick look of hurt passed over Adam's face.

"I'm not trying to be rude or anything," I said, trying to explain. "I'm just trying to understand!"

"It's not the same thing at all," Crane said. "A beer now and then isn't the same as what happened with

Margaret, or Karissa, or whatever name she's going by now."

"Well, what did happen?" Guthrie asked, and I was glad he was joining in the conversation.

Adam and Brian and Crane exchanged a long look and then Adam said, "She went to pick Ford up at

school, and she'd been drinking. She drove him all around, and we didn't know where he was. She ended up

smashing into the fence out by the barn."

I looked at Ford, and his face was sort of funny looking. Pale.

He came over and sat down between Brian and Guthrie. Brian reached out and put a hand on the back of

Ford's neck. "Poor Beans," he said, calling Ford by an old nickname, "He was shook up, even though he

didn't know what was really happening."

"I think I remember part of it," Ford said quietly. "I was in kindergarten, right?"

"Yeah. It was a few months after-" Adam hesitated, "after the accident."

I bit my lip and sat back in the chair, tucking my feet under me.

"She didn't tell me that," I said.

"No surprise there," Brian said. "She never liked to own up to her mistakes."

There was a little silence then, and the sound of a car driving in.

"Hannah's home," Adam said, and got up to go to the door, opening it, and stepping out onto the

porch. Hannah came in, her arms full of a blanket covered Isaac.

"Hello, everybody," she said, as Adam followed, a sack of groceries in each arm.

"Are there more groceries to bring in?" Ford asked her.

"Yes, sweetheart," Hannah told him. "Thank you."

Ford got up and went outside. Adam headed towards the kitchen with the food, and when Ford came

in, he followed.

Hannah sat down on the couch, unwrapping Isaac from his blankets.

Obviously feeling the tension in the room, she said quietly, "Big talk, huh?"

Nobody answered her, except for Crane, who nodded at her, and said, "Yep."

Isaac was sleeping, and she pressed him against her chest, patting his back gently, as Adam and Ford

came back from the kitchen.

Hannah turned to me. "Are you sharing everything with them, sweetie?" she asked, and I knew she

meant the sweater.

"Yes," I said.

"I'll take Scooter up to bed," Guthrie said, and took the baby from Hannah, going up the stairs.

Adam sat down beside Hannah, taking her hand in his, while Ford stood where he was, his hands in

his pockets.

"Evan said he doesn't remember Karissa," I said.

"He and Daniel were probably at school when she was around, or at a neighbor's house," Crane said,

by way of explanation. "They used to go over to the Peterson's after school a lot back then. That way I had a chance

to do my homework, and start supper."

I sat there, feeling compassion for that twelve year old kid that Crane had been, who'd had to give up his childhood so suddenly.

"You could have used the help, though," I pointed out. "If she hadn't been drinking like that, would

you have let her help with us?"

Brian shook his head, but didn't say anything. Adam said, "There's a lot more to it than just that."

"Well, what?" I asked.

"She wasn't around before the accident. We didn't even know her. And then suddenly, in the midst of

all the chaos and the grief-she showed up. Trying to take over," Adam said.

I wrinkled my forehead, puzzled. "You mean she didn't come visit Mom when you were growing up? You and

Brian?"

Adam shook his head in answer, and Brian said, "We never saw her but once or maybe twice in all those

years. Right, Adam?"

Adam nodded again in agreement.

"But why?" I asked, as Guthrie came back down the stairs and sat down on the couch again.

"I don't know, Harlie," Adam said, sounding tired.

"Was it because her and daddy didn't like each other?" I asked then.

"I don't know," Adam said, again.

"She said Grandpa didn't want mama and daddy to get married, that Grandpa didn't like

dad," I said, and then felt the tension crackling in the air.

"She told you that?" Adam asked, dangerously quiet.

I leaned back in the chair a little, subsiding.

"All the stories that mom told us growing up, were about how much grandpa did like dad," Adam

said.

"Oh," I said, in a small voice.

"Tell her the rest," Brian said, and I looked at him questioningly.

"The rest of what?" I asked.

Adam stood up, and went to the window, pulling the curtains back a little to look out. He was silent.

Brian stood up, too, clasping his hands behind his head. He looked at Ford and Guthrie, and then

said quietly, "She didn't give a hoot about the boys. She wanted you, Harlie. Just you."

I felt pained for Ford and Guthrie, sitting right there, listening.

"Why?" I asked.

"Who knows?" Brian said, dropping his arms to his sides.

"Well, but you said she went to pick Ford up that day at school," I reminded him. "And she told

me that she tried to see all three of us-"

"Get it thru your head that she's a liar, Harlie," Brian snapped. "We didn't even know she was gonna pick Ford up that day. He didn't show up on the bus, and we

got frantic."

"She wanted a little princess to dress up like a doll, and carry around to show off," Adam said,

from his stance at the window.

I knew from what Karissa had told me that she had thought the guys wanted to just let me grow

up as "one of the boys". I wanted to ask them about that, but I didn't feel like I should right then.

Adam turned from the window and came back over closer to the rest of us. He jammed his

hands in his pockets. "She called social services, and told them we shouldn't have you younger three kids, that we weren't

taking proper care of you all."

There was a long, tense moment, where Ford and Guthrie and I exchanged a look.

"Well, that's just crazy," Guthrie said, sounding angry. "You guys did fine."

"Yeah. Where'd she get that idea from?" Ford asked.

"I don't really know," Adam said, with a sigh. "I mean, what Brian and I did with you kids, it wasn't up to par with what mom and dad

would have done, but it was nothing for social services to intervene on."

"So they let it go?" I asked. "Social services?"

"They came over a couple of times to talk to us, and look around, but then they let it go, yeah," Adam said.

"It's not somethin' that you just get over, though," Brian added. "We were scared for a long time after that. Looking over our shoulders and

expecting you kids to be taken away."

"I'm sorry that happened to you guys," Ford said, his voice raspy with emotion. "With everything that you were trying to deal with, and then to have that happen, too, well,

it just-" he stopped talking for a moment. "It wasn't right," he said.

Several long moments passed.

"No, it wasn't right," I said, echoing Ford's statement. "I think she feels badly about everything that happened."

Total silence. Tense. Uncomfortable. Awkward.

I felt as though I had to make them understand how things were.

"I liked talking to her," I said. They were all watching me with silent, serious expressions.

"I mean, I do like talking to her," I added.

"Well, that's over and done," Brian said, with finality, and I felt my heart sink. I looked to Adam, hoping

that he would interject some disagreement to Brian's statement. I was disappointed by that hope, because

Adam stood there, saying nothing.

"What about you, Adam?" I asked him. "Do you agree with that, too?"

"Yeah. With not knowing what she's thinking, or planning, I think you should curtail any contact with her. At least until we talk," Adam said.

"You mean you'll talk to her?" I asked hopefully. "All of you?"

"I meant that Brian and Crane and I would talk," Adam said. "And Hannah, too."

My heart sank further.

"So you won't talk to her at all?" I asked him, so disappointed that I felt like crying.

"I don't have any plans right now to talk to her, no."

"That's not even fair!" I said.

"Let's just sleep on it, mull it over for a few days, and then we can talk again," Adam said.

"I never would have thought you guys would be so unfair," I said. "To not even give a person

a chance!"

"Harlie," Hannah said, her tone reproachful.

I looked at Hannah, taking note of her expression. It was her 'think before you speak' look

that she gives me. I let my glance flitter away from hers.

"You can think it's unfair," Adam said, still quietly. "But you need to obey me."

I stood up, feeling frustration to the tips of my toes. "What happened to giving people a second

chance when they mess up?" I demanded. "She's probably an entirely different person than she used

to be!"

"A leopard doesn't change their spots," Brian said darkly.

"Maybe this leopard did!" I insisted, my voice raising.

"Har, just drop it for right now," Ford spoke up. Sweet Ford. Ever the peacemaker.

"Just calm down," Ford added, for good measure. But I turned away from his warning glance, too.

"I just don't feel good about it," Adam said. "I wouldn't feel safe about you meetin' up with her."

"So the conversation is over, then?" I asked, shortly. "Just like that?"

"For right now, yeah," Adam said.

I stalked past them all, to the kitchen, where I slammed things around, getting out my shot

supplies. I jabbed myself so quickly that it was painful, and I said, "Damn it to hell!" loud enough

that they could have heard me, if they'd been listening. I didn't care.

After that I went up the back stairs, and to my room. I pulled out all the photo albums that

Karissa had given me, laying them on my bed, and sat and looked thru the first one. Most of the pictures were

of my mom, some along with her parents, and another older couple, who I supposed might be

my great grandparents.

After awhile, I went to take a shower, grumbling and bitching to myself the whole time I was under the hot water. When

I went back to my room, rubbing my wet hair with a towel, the door was open, as I'd left it, and

Adam was sitting there, on my bed, one of the photo albums open in his hands, as he flipped thru

the pages.

7=love