Once we were driving, on the way to Sonora Regional-Medical Center, I sat back against the seat, quiet.

"Want another piece of candy?" Guthrie asked me.

"No. I'm okay, now."

When he didn't say anything, I said, again, "Guth? I'm okay."

"Good. You're okay. You're still goin' to the hospital." His tone was set, and I knew if I could have been able to see clearly in the darkened truck cab,

that his jaw would be set, too.

"Can you turn on the radio?" I asked, knowing that the music would calm my nerves. Immediately Guthrie turned to a country western station,

where George Jones and Tammy Wynette were singing.

"We're be there in just a few minutes," Guthrie said, and I could hear the worry and fear in his voice, too.

I could tell he wanted me to answer, so I did, trying to sound confident. "That's good."

I closed my eyes, feeling woozy, and when I opened them again, it was because of the bright lights around the hospital entrance.

Once inside, Guthrie told me to sit down in one of the chairs in the waiting room, and he went to the front desk,

I could hear him talking to the nurse there, and I could hear most of her questions.

Guthrie was telling her my name, and my birthdate, and about me having diabetes. He told them that our guardians would be there soon.

I thought of something and went over to stand beside Guthrie.

"Clare might still be here," I told him, in a low voice.

"You want her?" Guthrie asked me, and when I nodded, Guthrie asked the lady behind the counter to get a message to Clare McFadden.

A nurse appeared and told me to come on along with her to a triage room, Guthrie following the nurse and I.

The nurse promptly told me to sit down, and she began to take my blood pressure, and ask questions and all of that.

"We can't actually admit you, or treat you, until we have your parent's permission. But I thought we'd get a few of these things out of the way," the nurse said, in a

overly cheerful voice. Neither Guthrie or I corrected her on the subject of our parents.

"Your blood pressure is good," she added, and began to take the pressure cuff off of my arm.

There was a light tap at the door, and then Clare stuck her head in.

"What's going on?" she asked, coming over to stand beside the hospital bed.

"Feeling weird," I told her.

Guthrie promptly chimed in with all the details.

"My mouthpiece," I said, wryly, as the other nurse listened with interest to our conversation.

"Adam's on the way?" Clare asked us.

"Butch was calling home," Guthrie assured her.

"Alright. Then we'll just sit here and wait for a few minutes," Clare said. She gave me a smile, and sat right beside me on the bed. I felt better

somehow because she was there.

It was only ten minutes longer before the family arrived. I was sipping at a cup of water, when Hannah came into the room, her face lined

with concern.

"I'm okay, Hannah," I said, from habit. It's always been Guthrie and I's way to try to keep Hannah from worrying about us.

"I see how fine you are," Hannah said, giving me a 'mom' look, and coming close.

"Adam's here, right?" Guthrie asked her, and when Hannah nodded, I heard Guthrie heave a sigh. I knew it was a sigh of relief.

"You're off duty now, elephant ears," I told him. "The cavalry has arrived."

Guthrie popped a piece of gum into his mouth without answering me.

The same nurse came back into the room. "We can move on now, to see what's going on with you," she told me. "Your brother signed the permission

forms."

In the midst of my blood sugar level being checked, Adam came into the room. He looked calm, and strong, and that was so reassuring to me

at that moment that I felt a great sense of relief wash over me. Whatever was going on, Adam was there now, so it would all be sorted out.

When he came to stand beside the bed, I was sitting up, and I reached out, and he took my hand.

"Did Brian come?" Clare asked Adam, and he nodded.

"He's out in the waiting room," Adam told her.

"I'll go out and talk to him," Clare said, and gave me a pat on the arm, going out of the room.

"Is her level high?" Adam asked the nurse.

"No. Low. Very low," the nurse answered, and Adam's forehead wrinkled in concern.

"The doctor will be in soon," the nurse said, and went out.

"Are you tryin' to take up permanent residency here?" Adam asked me, lightly, referring, I knew, to my visit of only a couple of weeks before, when I'd

broken my hand.

"It wasn't my idea to come here tonight," I told him. "That was all Guthrie's idea."

"And it was exactly the right idea," Hannah spoke up stoutly, in Guthrie's defense.

For the first time since he'd come in, Adam seemed to take a good look at Guthrie. He stepped away from me, and over to Guthrie.

"You doin' alright, buddy?" he asked, laying a hand on Guthrie's shoulder.

"I'm okay," Guthrie said.

"Thinks he can boss me around," I complained, though I wasn't really serious.

"And that's exactly right, too," Hannah added. "Thank heavens Guthrie was there."

The doctor came into the room. It happened to be the same doctor that had treated me for my broken hand and sprained ankle.

"Well, hello again, young lady," he greeted me, and shook hands with Adam.

He seated himself on the rolling stool. "I understand you're the one who got her here," he said to Guthrie.

"Yes, sir," Guthrie answered.

"Well, it's good that you did that. And giving her the juice, and the candy, those were absolutely the correct things to do," the doctor continued.

Guthrie ducked his head a little, looking embarrassed.

"Harlie's blood sugar level is extremely low," the doctor said, looking at me, and at Hannah and Adam, too. When he looked at his clipboard to read, and

then said what the numbers were, both Hannah and Adam looked shocked, and I felt my stomach knot in fear.

"Oh, my," Hannah said, kind of breathlessly.

"Even with the candy and juice?" I asked.

"Those things no doubt raised it, which is the reason we're fortunate that your brother was so quick to act," the doctor said, gesturing

towards Guthrie. "This evening could have had a very different outcome otherwise."

Hannah sat down in the only available chair, looking so pale that I thought maybe she was going to pass out.

"What we're going to do, is get you some quick carbs, so we can try to raise the level some more," the doctor went on. "We'll keep on eye on it for

a few hours, see how things go."

"And then I can go home?" I asked, fearing I already knew the answer.

"We'll see," the doctor said, non-committedly.

"I don't want to spend the night here," I protested.

"Harlie, hush," Adam said.

The doctor stood up, giving me a look of sympathy. "I understand how you feel. We'll see what we can do. Alright?"

"Alright," I said, though that's not what I thought at all.

When he'd gone, the room was silent for a long few moments.

"Go on out and sit down for awhile," Adam told Guthrie. "Get a breath of air."

"Okay," Guthrie said, so quickly that I knew he was ready to get out of the room.

"Tell Brian to come back," Adam said. "He's probably worn a groove in the floor pacing out there."

"Okay," Guthrie said again.

Before he could make his escape, I spoke up. "I bet Steven is wondering what's going on. We just sort of left him standing there. Can you try

and call him, Guth? Tell him I'm sorry that our date was ruined."

"I'll try and get ahold of him," Guthrie agreed.

The nurse bustled in with a couple of rice cakes and a glass of brown liquid.

"Here we go," she said cheerfully. "Do you like sweet tea?"

I nodded, and she handed me the glass, and set the rice cakes on the tray beside the bed.

"Eat both of those," she said, and went out again.

Hannah stood up, and began unwrapping the rice cakes. They were the plain white kind.

"Here," she said, handing me one of them.

I bit into the rice cake. It tasted just as bad as I remembered from the time that I'd tried one at Lori's house. I swallowed that bite

and drank half of the glass of sweet tea.

"Don't just drink," Adam told me. "Start eatin' that."

I took another bite. "It tastes like cardboard," I said.

"You're wasting eatin' time with complaints," Adam said.

"Do you think I should go call home?" Hannah asked Adam. "Crane's probably worried sick."

"No doubt," Adam said in agreement. "It's probably a good idea to call him."

Hannah left then, and I kept munching on my rice cake. I'd finished all my tea, and it was so hard to swallow the dry rice cake without

something to wash it down that I practically gagged.

Adam took the empty glass and went to the sink to fill it up with water, handing it to me.

I took a long drink, and sighed. "Finally done," I said.

"You've still got another one to eat," Adam reminded me.

"Uugh," I groaned.

Adam sat down on the edge of the bed beside me. He didn't say anything at first. He just started rubbing circles on my

lower back.

I bit determinedly into the second rice cake. Around my chewing, I muttered, "I'm not staying here overnight."

"You'll do whatever the doctor says," Adam said. "And you'll do it without actin' like a spoiled kid."

"I know," I said, "but-"

"No 'buts'," Adam said.

"I've never stayed overnight in a hospital, though," I said, feeling like I wanted to cry.

"I know," he said, still making those comforting circles on my back. "But I'll stay, too."

"You will?" I asked him.

"Of course I will, knothead."

"Okay."

I took another bite of the rice cake, in the middle of chewing when Brian came into the room.

He looked more worried than I could ever remember him looking before.

"Hey, peach," he said, leaning over to kiss the top of my head.

"Hey," I replied.

"Were you feelin' bad when you left the house tonight?" he asked me.

I shook my head. "Not really." When I saw the look on his face, I knew he was thinking of the talk we'd had, sitting on the couch together, and

that he was trying to remember if I'd acted as though I felt badly.

I didn't want Brian feeling guilty about anything, so I hastily tacked on, "I felt fine, Bri."

"You shouldn't have gone out if you were feelin' shobbly," Brian went on, using our family word for a cross between shaky and wobbly.

"I wasn't," I said. I didn't want a lecture.

Brian gave me a long look, and then nodded briefly, sitting down in the available chair.

I finished the stupid rice cake, with relief, and drank down the rest of the water.

"Whoever invented those things should be arrested," I offered.

Neither one of them responded to that, and I sighed, leaning back a little on the propped up pillows.

Adam stood up, stretching as though his back was hurting.

Into the silence of the room, I thought that I might not have a better opportunity, and so I spoke up.

"How come we're selling cattle?"

They both looked at me. I could tell that neither of them was happy about my question. They exchanged a look.

But at least they didn't pretend to not know what I was talking about.

"Where'd you hear about that?" Brian asked me.

"Steven said something about it. That it was his dad who was buying them."

"Hmm," he said to that. He and Adam looked at each other again.

"There's nothing so unusual about selling some cattle," Adam said.

"But you guys said you were going to wait," I reminded them. "Until the calves were born."

"Well, we decided not to wait," Brian said. "That's all."

"That's not it," I said, and Brian raised an eyebrow at me.

"Excuse me?" he asked.

"It's because of the-" I hesitated over the word. "The custody thing. That's it, isn't it? You need the money to pay a

lawyer."

"It's nothing for you to fret about," Adam said.

"Well, that's kind of impossible," I muttered.

The nurse came bustling back in again. "Did we finish our rice cakes?" she asked, in an overly cheery voice.

I wished I could respond with a sarcastic comment that it hadn't been "we" who had been eating the dry, tasteless things. But of course I

didn't do that.

"Yes," I told her.

"Good. We'll be back in just a little while to check your level again, then." She smiled at me, and went back out of the room.

The room was silent again.

"I don't want the cattle to have to be sold because of all this," I said.

Adam sighed a little. "We'll do what we need to do," he said simply. "Period. End of discussion."

I felt my temper flare at that, and I tried to tamp it down, because I knew I would just end up getting myself in trouble if I

got sassy with him.

Hannah came back into the room, and Brian stood up to let her have his chair. She pulled the chair over closer to the bed.

"Crane sends love," she told me, after she sat down.

I nodded, feeling emotional.

"Is Scooter givin' him any trouble?" Adam asked her.

"No. Crane said he ate and then went right to sleep," Hannah said.

When the door opened again, the nurse came in with a plate of pretzels and a big cluster of grapes.

"Here you go," she said. She set the plate down and proceeded to check my blood sugar level again.

"Better?" Adam asked her.

"Better, but not quite what we want to see yet," the nurse said, in the same cheerful tone. I knew it was wrong to feel this way,

but all that cheery demeanor of hers was starting to get on my nerves.

"You eat some of those grapes, and we'll recheck," she said, and left again.

I sank back against the pillows, feeling discouraged. "What's wrong with me!" I burst out.

"Harlie," Adam said. His voice was quiet, but I could the admonishment underneath.

I subsided, trying to keep tears at bay.

"You are going to be fine," Hannah said, sounding confident and firm. "Now eat your grapes."

I began to eat the grapes with a fierce diligence, determined that I was going to go home that night.

"At least they taste better than rice cakes," I said.

"Way to look for the silver lining, sugar," Adam said.

7