First I tried the number to the house that Daniel and Red were sharing. I let the phone ring at least ten times

before I hung up the receiver, and retrieved my quarters. I straightened the paper out and deposited the coins again, dialing

the phone number to the Palamino Club, where Daniel has been working, and playing with his band.

When the phone was picked up, I could hear lots of noise in the background. "Palamino Club," a female voice answered, with a

heavy Southern accent.

"I'm trying to locate my brother-" I began.

"What? Speak up, sweetheart, I can't hear you."

"I'm trying to catch up with my brother," I said, louder.

"Who's your brother?" she asked me..

"Daniel McFadden. His band plays there-"

"Yeah, sure. I know Daniel. Is this Harlie?" she asked.

When I said yes, the woman said, "Lordy, but he talks up a storm about you."

"Is he there now?" I asked hopefully.

"Um, I'm not sure. Let me ask around. Hang on."

I heard the phone be laid down with a bang, and I hopped from foot to foot, trying to warm up my toes. There were a couple

of older men standing behind me, and I knew they were waiting to use the phone. One gave me a openly irritated look. I turned

my back so I didn't have to look at him.

After what seemed like several minutes, the friendly female voice came back on the line.

"Hey, doll, I guess Daniel stepped out for a few minutes."

"Oh," I said, dejected, unable to hide my disappointment, and worry.

"The guys said he went to mail something. He should be right back."

"Can I call back in a few minutes?" I asked.

"Sure you can. Try in about thirty minutes to be sure. I'll sit on him to make sure he's here when you

call back."

"Thank you."

"Anything you want me to tell him?" she asked.

"No. That's okay. Thanks."

"Okay, sweetheart," she said, and hung up.

I hung up the phone, and stepped around the men, going back to sit on the bench. I rooted thru Evan's duffle bag, searching for

another pair of socks. When I found them, I took off my shoes and wet socks. It felt good to have on dry ones. Unfortunately, when

I put my sneakers back on, they were so wet that they got these socks wet, too.

I sighed, shivering, and looking around the bus depot. I was hungry, and cold. And worried. I was plenty worried. I'd acted

without thinking. I thought of the old adage, 'Act in haste, repent in leisure'.

I was having too much thinking time sitting here in this bus station. I watched the big clock on the opposite wall. Only fifteen minutes

had passed since I'd talked to the girl at the club. I sifted thru the bottom of my bag for some change, and went to the vending machine,

pressing the button for a package of crackers. Nothing dropped out. I pushed the button again, harder. Still nothing. I felt

like shaking the machine in frustration. A guy that I pegged at about thirty came over to the machine. His hair was dirty, and

tied back in a ponytail, and he reeked of marijuana.

"The machine don't work good," he said.

"Oh."

"It'll eat your money almost every time."

"Oh," I said, again.

"You hungry? I can take you across the street to that diner," he said, with a gesture.

"No, thanks, that's alright," I said, eyeing him out of the corner of my eye. The Bellemy Brothers song, 'Old Hippie',

came to mind as I looked at him. He was probably a nice guy, but I knew better than to take that chance.

"I'm harmless, I promise," he said, with a grin.

"I'm waiting for someone," I told him, edging my way around him.

"Alright. Well, I'll be right here, if you change your mind."

I went back to the phone, even though it had only been twenty minutes. I deposited my change, and dialed the number again.

When the now familiar Southern voice answered, I asked her if Daniel was back yet.

"Yeah, he is. I told him his sister was calling him. Hold on and I'll get him."

I heard her yell 'Hey, Daniel!' and I could hear noise of people talking, and music playing.

When Daniel's voice came across the telephone line, I had to catch my breath in relief. It was so good to hear his voice!

"Hey, squirt! How are you?" he asked, sounding happy.

Since I didn't want to start my conversation by telling him how I was, I settled for, "Hi, Daniel."

"How is everything?"

"Not so good," I said, twisting the phone cord in my fingers.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I-I just wanted to talk to you."

"Okay, I've got a few minutes. Or, I can call you back later tonight, if you want."

"No," I said, anxiously, feeling as though I might be sick. "I mean, I was thinking that I could talk to you when I see you," I said slowly.

"Well, but I don't know for sure when I'm comin' home, squirt," he said, sounding regretful. "We'll have to settle for

talkin' on the phone."

"I'm here, Daniel," I said quietly.

"What? Talk louder. I can hardly hear ya."

I raised my voice just a notch. "I said that I'm here."

There was a moment of silence. "What do you mean, you're here?" he asked, sounding wary.

"Here. In Nashville. At the bus depot."

"Who's with you?" he demanded.

I hesitated, and Daniel's voice got louder and stronger. "Who is with you?"

I sighed. There was no sense to putting it off. Besides, I was cold, and hungry, and a little scared. It was going to be getting dark really soon.

I didn't want to be in a dirty bus depot in a strange city alone after dark.

"Nobody," I said, really low.

There was another moment of silence then. I could almost hear the wheels of Daniel's mind turning.

"Is the family going to be worried out of their minds about where you are?" he demanded, sounding angry, and as though his teeth were gritted.

"No. They think I'm spending the night somewhere," I admitted. "Daniel, I just needed to see you, and talk to you-"

"Save it," he ordered brusquely. "Which bus depot? What's the address?"

"Umm, it's the Greyhound bus station. I don't know the address. Should I go ask the clerk?"

"Yeah. Go ask," he said, grimly, sounding as if he wanted to throttle me.

I laid the phone down and went to the clerk's cage. "Excuse me," I said, and he looked up from his

paperwork.

"Yes, little miss?"

"What is the address here?"

When he told me, I thanked him, and went back to the phone quickly.

"Daniel?"

"What's the address?" he demanded, without preamble.

"709 5th Avenue South," I said quickly, before I forgot.

"Alright. It'll take me about thirty minutes or so to get there, maybe a little longer. You stay put, hear me?"

"Yes. I will," I told him. "I have a good reason for coming. Will you promise to listen?" I asked him, pleadingly.

Daniel didn't bother to answer that. Instead he said, sounding ferocious, "I mean it. You don't set one foot out of that building. Understand?"

"Yes, Daniel," I said, barely above a whisper.

The dial tone buzzed in my ear. He'd hung up. I replaced the receiver, and went to sit down again. I'd gotten an apple out

of the bag, and was biting into it when the hippie looking man came over near to me.

"Still waitin' for somebody?" he asked.

I thought how glassy his eyes looked. He looked like he was flying high to me.

"Yes," I said shortly.

"A good supper over to the diner would be better than that apple," he told me.

"No, thank you."

"I'm just tryin' to be friendly," he told me.

I felt so uncomfortable, and scared that I stood up, hoisting the bag over my shoulder, and went to stand next to the

clerk's cage.

"Help you?" the elderly man asked.

"No, sir. I just thought I'd stand here if it's alright. Until my brother gets here."

The man looked at me over the top of his glasses, and then glanced at the long-haired man walking around the station.

"He's always hanging around here," the man offered. "Don't seem to have a home."

"Oh. Well, do you mind if I stand here?" I asked.

"Nope. Don't bother me none."

The man went back to his paperwork, and I thought briefly that he wouldn't be much use if the hippie guy was to

try anything. He looked too old and too frail to be of much help. Still, it made me feel better standing there. He reminded me a little

of Bill Imhof from our church at home.

I kept an eye on the clock, finishing my apple, and tossing the core into the trash can. I would have liked a drink of water, but

the water fountain was near where hippie man was standing, so I decided to wait.

I could see out the window, by the outside lights when a truck drove up, and Daniel got out. I didn't recognize the truck. It

wasn't Red's. I picked up Evan's duffle bag and slung it over my shoulder.

"Leavin' now?" the old man asked me.

"Yes. That's my brother."

"Well, you take care."

"Thank you," I said, and went across the station, to meet Daniel just as he was coming inside. He had a sort of wild-eyed look

about him. As he came closer, I could see he looked frantic.

He took a deep breath, and stopped a couple of feet away from me. "Thank God," he said. "I was afraid I'd get here and you wouldn't be here."

We stood looking at each other for a second. I wanted to rush into his arms, but I was overcome with nerves.

"Hi, Daniel," I said lightly, quietly.

"Hi, Daniel?" he repeated, looking incredulous. "You pull a stunt like this, and all you have to say is 'Hi, Daniel'?"

He turned in anger and opened the door, motioning to me to go out ahead of him.

Once outside, beside the truck, away from other listening ears, he turned on me furiously.

"What in hell are you playin' at?" he said, close to yelling.

"I'm not playing, Daniel, I needed to see you-"

"So you just take off without permission, and don't even bother to let me know that

you're comin'?" he demanded.

"You would have said no," I answered honestly, but without thinking, and in the outside lights I saw

Daniel's jaw tighten.

"Yes, I would have, and you know why! What kind of fool thing is this to do, travelin' all this

way alone, on a bus!"

I stood staring at him, wishing he would run down a little, and give me a hug.

"What if you hadn't been able to get ahold of me?" he demanded. "What would you have done then?

Spent the night here?" Daniel gestured disparagingly towards the bus depot.

"I don't know-" I began.

"Would you want to spend the night here?" Daniel raised his voice. He reached out to take hold of me with both hands, and shook me. Hard. I had to catch

my breath after that shaking. It hurt.

"Would you?" Daniel asked again, even louder, his hands still on my shoulders.

"No," I said, shaking my head, and my eyes filled with tears.

"Don't," he said, letting me go and holding up a hand. "Just don't start with the tears."

"I can't help it-I came all this way, and I really need to talk to you! And I know you have the

right to be mad, but you're just yelling, and-I really need a hug!" I said, stumbling over the words.

"You need somethin' all right," he said darkly, "but I don't think it's a hug. I was thinking

more along the lines of a butt tannin'."

I winced at his words. "Please, Daniel," I said, pleadingly, almost in a whisper.

A moment later, he reached out and yanked me to him, crushing me tight against his chest

in a bear hug.

"Everything is all messed up, Daniel!" I said, against his shirt front.

"Alright. We'll figure it all out. But this wasn't the way to go about it, and you know it."

When I didn't answer, he leaned back, and tilted my chin up so that I had to look at him.

"Was it?" he asked, sternly.

"No," I said, shivering.

He hugged me again, and then said, "Let's get you somewhere to get warm," and opened

the truck door, ushering me into the warmth of the cab.

"I've got to go to work," he told me, as we started driving. "So I'm gonna take you home first."

It felt so strange to hear Daniel say 'home', and know he didn't mean the ranch.

As if he could read my thoughts, he added, "Well, our house, I mean."

"Could I go with you to the club? To hear you play? And see Red, and everything?" I asked.

"No. You're in trouble with me, young lady." He gave me a look across the truck cab, and I didn't need it to be fully lighted

to see the set of his jaw. I could make it out just fine. Unfortunately.

"You don't even know why I came, Daniel!" I protested. "Maybe you won't be so mad at me

when you hear why-"

"It doesn't matter why. This is craziness, Harlie. I can't believe you took such a stupid risk."

"I thought-" I began, and then stopped.

"You thought what?"

"I thought I was coming to understanding. I thought I was coming to-love," I managed.

"I don't know about the understanding," he said. "The jury's still out on that. But, of course you're

coming to love. Don't talk dumb. But it's because of that love that I'm gonna come down hard

on you."

I wasn't sure what he meant by that. And I was fairly sure that I didn't want to know.

For the next few minutes there was silence. Tense, uncomfortable, angry silence. Daniel broke it only to ask, "Did you bring

all your diabetes supplies?"

"Yeah."

"Why didn't you bring a coat?" he demanded then.

"I didn't think about how cold it would be here," I said, still shivering.

Daniel flipped the heat knob up another little ways, and muttered something that sounded like, "Unbelievable."

When Daniel pulled into a residential district, he pulled up in front of what looked like a small

house, though it was hard to tell by the streetlights.

Daniel waited for me to climb out, and he took Evan's bag from my hand, carrying it for me.

"Have you eaten?" he asked, opening the door, and ushering me inside.

"No. I only have twenty dollars, and I thought I might need it. I brought some apples and granola.

I ate most of it on the bus." I shivered, feeling chilled to the bone.

"Alright. Well, you can take a hot shower and get warmed up. I'll throw some food together

for you," Daniel told me.

"You don't have to," I said, feeling guilty. "Don't you have to get to work?"

Instead of answering me, Daniel pointed to a door down the hallway. "Bathroom's that way. Go get a shower."

I went to get my pajamas out of the duffel bag, and went down the hall to the bathroom, where I

showered in the steaming hot water. Any other time, I would have enjoyed immensely having so much unlimited hot

water at my disposal. When I got out, and into my pajamas, I went back out towards the living room. It was empty, but I heard

the clanging of dishes in the kitchen. I went to the kitchen doorway to stand.

"Eggs and fried potatoes," he said. "You can make yourself some

toast, too, if you want."

"Thanks," I said quietly, studying him.

"This is the first time I've been warm in hours," I said, rubbing my hands up and down my

arms.

Daniel cast a glance at my bare feet. "Better get some socks on," he told me. "The floor's probably cold."

"Both of my pairs are wet," I said. "I stepped into a puddle."

When Daniel looked at me, I shrugged. "Long story," I said.

"I'll get you a pair of mine," he said, and went behind me, down the hallway, coming back carrying a pair

of white men's socks. I sat down in one of the kitchen chairs and pulled them on. They were bulky on my feet,

and came up nearly to my knees. Once they were on, I stood up, looking

around the small kitchen and living room again. I thought that though the house was small, it was cozy, too. It had a welcoming

feeling. Daniel went back to the stove, putting some food on a plate.

"I like the house," I told him, hoping he would make conversation with me.

Daniel didn't even respond to my comment, and I felt my heart sink even lower. I'd never seen him so angry, so

closed off. At least never at me.

"Sit down and eat," he ordered, setting the plate on the table.

I sat down. I was hungry, but yet I wasn't. But I knew I needed to eat. I picked up the fork, and started on the

potatoes. They were done just the way I liked them. Crispy. The eggs were good, too.

Daniel sat down at the table at the other end, folding his hands together. He sat that way in silence for a few minutes while I ate, and then said,

"Evan's flipping out."

"He thinks I'm at-" I began.

"I know what he was supposed to think. But now that he knows you're here-that you came all

this way alone, well, he's really upset."

I wanted to ask him why the first thing he'd done was call home, but I didn't. It didn't matter, anyway,

because Daniel read my thoughts correctly.

"I had to call home," he said. "It wouldn't be right not to. I know how worried I'd be-hell, if I'd known

you were on a bus comin' here alone, I would have been frantic."

"But I'm here. And I'm fine," I said, and realized those were the wrong choice of words as Daniel's

eyes narrowed.

"You're here. But I don't know if you're fine. At least you don't deserve to be fine."

"Can't we talk about it, Daniel? Please?"

"We will," he said. "But not right now." He stood up, pushing

in his chair. He took the jacket hanging on the back of the chair, and put it on. "You take my bedroom. It's the one just past the bathroom."

"I don't want to take your room," I protested feebly. "I can sleep on the couch alright-"

"Harlie, do as you're told, alright," he snapped.

"Okay," I mumbled.

"I'm goin' to work. When I leave, you lock the door, finish your supper, and do your shot. When you've done

all that, I want you to call home to talk to Evan. Do you hear?"

I wanted to protest, but I didn't. I nodded to show that I understood.

"Come on," he said, motioning me to stand up and follow him to the door. "So you can lock it behind me."

"Okay," I said.

Daniel opened the door, and then turned to look at me. "I'm so angry at you."

"I know," I said, so low that it was almost a whisper.

"I don't think you do know," he contradicted. "I mean, I'm so mad that I need to leave. Right now. Before I totally lose it

on you."

I caught my breath, staring at him in horror.

I bit at my lip. I'll admit it. I was scared to death right then. I covered my face with my hands, and burst into

tears.

After a couple of moments, I heard Daniel sigh heavily. He reached out to put a hand on my shoulder.

"Stop it," he said, sounding irritated.

I nodded, and I tried, I really did. But the tears just kept falling.

Daniel gave my back a couple of pats. "That's enough."

I was a little encouraged by those pats he gave me. At least it was a start.

I gathered my courage and looked up at him thru my tears. "I love you, Daniel."

"Is that supposed to make me feel guilty?" he asked me. "Or make me soften up, so I don't punish you?"

"No," I said, shaking my head. "I just wanted to say it to you."

Daniel sighed heavily, and then reached out and pulled me into a hug.

"I love you, too," he said, his chin resting on the top of my head.

He pulled back a little, looking down at me. "You might want to remember how much we love each other tomorrow morning

when we sit down to hash this all out. Because it's not going to be pleasant."

I winced, understanding his meaning quite plainly.

"Lock the door, and when you're done eatin', make sure you call home," he reminded me, as he turned to go

out.

"Okay," I said quietly.

When Daniel had gone, I clicked the lock into place, and went back to my plate of food. I'd eaten most of it, and

I couldn't manage any more of it, I knew. My stomach was in knots again. I scraped the leftovers into the trash, and

then did up the dishes. There were quite a few already before Daniel had cooked for me. I wiped down the counters and the

table, and when the kitchen was cleaned, I checked my blood sugar level, and did my shot.

Then, with great reluctance, I faced the telephone.

It rang three times when Guthrie answered.

"Hi, Guth," I said, in response to his hello.

"Har!" he said, sounding breathless. "Are you alright? What were you thinkin'?"

"I'm alright. I just needed to see Daniel."

"You should have told me," he accused, and I heard the hurt in his voice.

I wished now that I would have confided in Guthrie. He might not have been able to help, but he

would have tried. I could have pointed out that he'd been gone, camping, and hadn't been available to talk to, but I decided against it. No point in

making him any more upset at me.

"I wish I'd told you, too," I said.

"I'm pissed at you. Doin' somethin' dumb like this," he grumbled.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I really am, Guth."

"What was the bus ride like?" Guthrie asked, changing the subject.

"Not so great," I told him. "Actually, pretty horrible. Long. And uncomfortable."

"Damn," he said.

"What's Evan doing?" I asked.

"He's cookin' some potatoes and eggs."

"That's what Daniel made, too," I said. I hesitated. "Is Evan really mad?"

"Well, of course he is, what do you think?" Guthrie asked, sounding exasperated.

"I was planning on calling home tomorrow, and letting him know-"

"Hey, he's comin' from the kitchen. You want me to put him on the phone?"

"No," I said honestly. "I don't want you to. But I guess I'd better talk to him. Daniel said

I had to."

"Alright. Hold on."

There was a banging of the phone, and the rumble of talking, and then it sounded like

somebody picked up the receiver. I thought I could hear breathing, but I wasn't sure, because Evan didn't say anything.

"Evan?"

"I'm here," he said curtly.

"I was going to call you tomorrow, and tell you where I was," I said, and even to my own ears.

it sounded like a pathetic excuse.

"You expect me to thank you for that?" Evan asked, his voice taut with anger.

"No. I just thought it would work out so that you wouldn't need to worry-"

"You just thought it would work out so that I wouldn't worry," Evan repeated, in a monotone, as if he couldn't believe what I was saying.

"Well, yeah. "

"How are you going to work out that you lied to me? That you took a stupid risk without

any thought to how I'd feel?" he demanded. "Damn it, Harlie, I was responsible for you!"

"I'm sorry, Evan."

"Well, that's just not good enough."

"Ev-"

"You never would have tried this crap with anybody else. Just me. It sure as hell says a lot

for our relationship," he said furiously.

My throat tightened. I'd known Evan would be mad, but this was something different than anger. Something worse.

"What does that mean?" I managed to ask.

"You know what it means. You have respect for Adam, and Brian and Crane. Hell, Daniel, too! But

when it comes to me, you don't give a shit."

"Is that what you think?!" I burst out. "That I don't respect you? That's not true, Ev!"

"Words don't mean anything, Harlie. Your actions prove you don't." Then, abruptly, his

tone changed to impersonal, and cold, almost as if he were talking to a stranger.

"Daniel and I are gonna talk about how you're gettin' home. I'll let Adam know what's

goin' on."

"Alright. Evan-"

"I'm busy," Evan said shortly. "I need to go."

"Evan! Wait!"

"What?" he snapped.

I tried to find the right words. I started to cry. "We're still friends, though, aren't we?"

"Friends would treat each other better," he said curtly.

I felt as if I'd been slapped.

"You mean, we're nothing to each other, again? Like it used to be?" I asked desparately.

"I'm your brother. Nothing changes that. But as for anything else, forget it," he said.

I wondered what he meant by that, but before I could ask, he said, "I gotta get supper off the

stove."

And click. The phone went silent. He'd hung up.

7