I cried so much that I was shaking. Guthrie, who's never been good with my tears, hovered at my elbow as if he

didn't know what to do to help.

Hannah was asking me what was wrong, what had happened between me and Evan. I shook my head, and kept crying.

"They had a go-round," Guthrie told her.

Brian, who'd stood there, not saying anything at first, finally intervened.

"Go on up and get ready for bed," he told me, sounding curt.

"We need to settle this between them," Hannah was saying.

"Not tonight," Brian said, and Hannah sighed a little.

"Well, alright, but I'm going to talk to Evan," Hannah said, looking determined.

"No, Hannah," I said, between the crying. "He didn't start it. I did. It was my fault."

Hannah looked surprised at that. "Alright," she said, in a soft voice. She patted me on the arm.

"Go on up," Brian told me again, nodding towards the back stairs.

I turned and went up the stairs, carrying my cup of hot milk, and still crying. I felt bone-weary all of a sudden.

At the top of the stairs, I saw Evan, disappearing into the bathroom, a towel over his shoulder.

"I wish I had an apple to throw at him," I said, out loud to myself. The way I was feeling, though, I think a baseball would have

been better.

7

I got into my pajamas, still crying. My tears were tapering off just a bit when there was a rapping on my

bedroom door.

"Come in," I said, sitting up, cross-legged on my bed.

Brian opened the door, and came in, closing the door behind him. He stood there, looking at me for a long moment,

and then he came over near to the bed. He had a bottle of Tylenol in his hand, and he set it on my nightstand.

"I figured you might need a couple," he said. "You always seem to get a headache when you cry."

Well, that just set me to going again. I covered my face with my hands, and started to cry anew, my shoulders shaking.

I felt the bed sink a little under his weight, as he sat down.

"Good Lord, Harlie," he said. "What did I say?"

"You know all the little things about me," I said, thru my hands. "You're such a good brother!"

I heard him sigh, and then felt the bed rise as he stood up again. When he came back to sit down, he laid something

in my lap, and even without looking, I could tell it was a box of tissues from my dresser.

"Start reinin' in the tears," he said.

I took some deep breaths, and then lowered my hands from my face.

"Your nose is so red, you look like Rudolph," he said.

"Thanks a lot," I said, taking a couple of Kleenexes from the box, and wiping my face.

"What's goin' on?" he asked me, quietly.

"Evan said something. It just set me off."

"What did he say?" Brian asked.

"He said that he hoped the meeting goes good tomorrow."

Brian looked perplexed, and then he said, with a good degree of sarcasm, "Well, damn, let's throw his butt in jail. He's sure got

some nerve. How dare he say such a thing!"

"Bri," I said, in weak protest, mopping at my face.

"What's wrong with him sayin' that?" Brian asked.

"He doesn't talk to me. He acts as though I'm invisible. He said he's forgiven me, but he acts the same."

"Him wishin' for something good tomorrow doesn't sound as though he thinks you're invisible," Brian pointed out.

"I know, but it just made me so mad," I said. When I looked up at Brian, he was giving the 'eye'. The one that

says without words that I'm making no sense.

I shrugged. "And then I started mouthing off, and saying stuff. Like how he'd be glad if I had to go live with

Karissa."

Brian sighed. "Sometimes," he said, and then stopped talking.

"Sometimes what?" I prompted him.

"Sometimes you're entirely too much like me," he said.

7

At breakfast the next morning, it seemed as though everybody was a little subdued. Or if not subdued, at least

preoccupied. I was definitely both. I was thinking about what it would be like to see Karissa again after all this time.

And dreading it.

It didn't help any to have Evan across the table from me, either. I carefully avoided looking directly at him.

Before breakfast, I'd gone into Hannah and Adam's big closet, where I keep my more dressy clothes, and picked out a blue skirt, and a

off-white blouse.

"You look nice," Hannah told me.

"Thanks."

I gave her a closer look, and saw that she too, looked nice. Dressed in a brown corduroy skirt, and matching vest, and

high brown boots.

Adam was wearing his dress pants, the ones he wears to church, and a button-up western shirt.

When breakfast was over, Guthrie went off to school, reminding me again to hunt him up at lunchtime and let him know

how things had gone at the meeting.

"I will," I promised, setting my plate and glass beside the kitchen sink.

"Want me to do a French braid for you?" Clare offered.

I said yes, and she finger-combed my curls and did a quick braid, fastening the end with a rubber band from our catch-all

drawer in the kitchen. Brian, who was still wearing his chore clothes, said he was going upstairs to change.

I went to the living room and sat down on the couch, to pull on my boots. They were the ones Brian had gotten me, the teal-blue ones.

After that I just sat there for a few minutes, not doing anything. Just sitting. And thinking.

Evan came thru from the kitchen, grabbing a ball cap from the hook by the door. I watched him pull on the cap, one that

said, 'Farmers do it better' on it. He glanced back over at me, and I thought he was going to say something.

But he didn't. He just went out, shutting the door quietly behind him.

When Brian came down the stairs a few minutes later, buttoning up his shirt, he said, "You wearin' those boots?"

I gave a look down at my feet. "Yes. Why?"

"They look as though they're gettin' pretty worn," he observed.

"They're my best boots," I said.

"You might be due for a new pair soon."

I stretched my leg out to give my foot another look. "They're alright. Besides, these are my lucky boots."

"Lucky? How so?" he asked.

"Don't you remember?" I asked him. "These are the boots you bought me last spring, the day you went to get

Clare's engagement ring."

"I remember. How does that make them lucky?" he asked.

"Because. They're special. And whenever I wear them, something good happens. And they even return from the Lost," I said.

"Huh?" he asked.

"The lost," I said, and then realized that I was about to spill my sordid story of the beer party last fall, where I'd lost one of the boots,

and gone home without it, only to have Nancy find it and return it to me. "I lost one once," I said, looking up at him. "It found

its way back."

"Sounds like an interesting story," Brian said, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, it is," I said. "I'll tell it to you sometime. When you're really, really old."

"Hmm," he said, as Adam and Hannah came down the stairs, and we all got ready to leave.

Talking like that only made me think more about Evan, and how he'd kept it quiet about what I'd done that night.

7

We drove to the courthouse in Clare's car, with Brian driving, and Adam in the front seat, and Hannah and I in the

back seat. I was quiet for the most part, and Hannah was, too. We were pulling into the parking lot of the courthouse,

when she leaned over a little, and said, quietly, "Don't underestimate your brothers. And don't underestimate yourself."

I looked at her, and nodded. I thought I knew what she meant.

Walking up the massive number of steps to go inside the courthouse, with Brian beside me, I reached out

and took his hand without saying anything.

He turned to look down at me. "Alright?" he asked me.

"My stomach's doing loop-de-loops," I said honestly.

"Mine, too," he said.

When we went inside, Adam seemed to know where he was going. We went into a conference room, with a long, long table

in it. John was already there, a briefcase opened on the table.

"Hello," he said, getting to his feet and shaking hands with Brian and Adam.

Adam introduced Hannah to him, and then John turned to me.

"Hello, Harlie. How are you?"

"I'm alright. Nervous," I said honestly.

"I understand, but there's really no need to be," he told me, with an easy smile. "I asked you all to come a little early,

so that I could talk to you for a little while. Sit down."

I sat down in the chair that he directed me to, and Adam, Brian and Hannah all sat in chairs beside and across from me.

"Adam told what you shared with him, about the drinking," he said, looking at me. "Can you go over it again, so I can

hear it from your words?"

I looked at Adam, sitting beside me, and then back at the lawyer. "Well, she met me at the high school, and took me to

eat. She drank two or three glasses of wine during the meal. And, after that, she took me back to the school, for my night class."

"What do you remember about it?" he asked. "Did it strike you as odd that she drank that much?"

"A little. She was acting a little strange, so I asked her if she was going to be alright to drive. And she said yes."

"How was the drive back?" he asked.

"I remember being nervous, because she seemed a little off."

"In what way?" he asked.

"Sort of talking strangely, about things. Things that didn't make sense, really. She wanted to take me somewhere else,

even though I told her I had to get back to class."

"Uh huh," he said.

"And then, another time, she drove really far out of town, even though I kept asking her to stop and go back. Sometimes she's a little

scary. She's sort of unpredictable," I said.

"Alright. Thank you, Harlie. " He asked me if I'd like some can of soda or something to drink.

I told him no, and he said, "Well, would you mind waiting out in the hallway, on the bench there, for a few minutes? I'd like

to talk to your brothers and Hannah."

I felt an instinctive flash of fear. What did he have to say to them that he didn't want me to hear?

I looked at Adam, and he nodded at me. "Go on," he told me.

I shot Brian a look, too, and got up to go out of the room, into the hallway. There was a wooden bench there, the old type, that

are really heavy. I sat down, rubbing my hands on my skirt. They were all sweaty from nerves.

It seemed like a long time before the door behind me opened, and John stepped half-way out.

"You can come back in now, Harlie," he said.

I got up and followed him back into the room. Hannah was sitting in the same place as before, and she looked as

if she was upset, and yet trying not to show it. Brian was standing near the window, looking outside, his back to the room, and

Adam was pacing back and forth. He stopped when I came in, and gave me a half-smile, that wasn't convincing at all.

What the heck had happened, I wondered, in alarm.

"Let's sit down," John said, and everybody, including me, went back to their original seats.

"Your aunt would like for you to visit with her," John said. "For an occasional day, and possibly overnight at some point."

I sat there in stunned silence. I looked at Hannah, but she was looking down, twisting with something on her skirt. Brian never

turned away from the window, so I couldn't see his face.

So I looked at Adam. The muscles at the side of his jaw were working back and forth, like they do when he's really angry, or upset.

"You mean now?" I asked John.

"Well, relatively soon. Sort of as a practice run, so that the two of you can get better acquainted. Her lawyer is going to

request that today."

"I don't want to do that," I said immediately.

"Why is it you don't want to, Harlie?" he asked, his voice kind.

"I don't feel comfortable enough with her for that," I said.

"Well, her hope is that you would become more comfortable as time went on."

"I'm not sure I even want to talk to her anymore," I said. "Let alone go and stay with her."

"Explain that to me. Why you don't want a relationship with her. You did at one time, is that correct?" he asked.

"I did," I admitted. "I thought I did. But that was when I thought we could all have a relationship. Well, I mean Guthrie and I

and Karissa. But she didn't want Guthrie. Just me. And then, she was always talking about my father, and saying what a bad person

that he was. And then, like I said, it's sort of unnerving the way that she does things sometimes."

I hesitated, wondering whether to go on or not. "And then she took something that happened at home, an argument, and

made it into something that social services came to talk to Guthrie and I about." I thought about how to express what I wanted

to say. "I think-I feel, that she does like me, but that all of this is more about settling an old score. A way to get back

at my brothers."

John sat back in his swivel chair, lacing his hands together and looking at me thoughtfully.

I heard a sound from across the table. Sort of a soft sound, like somebody trying to clear their throat, but not

quite succeeding.

Hannah looked up, and I could tell she was struggling mightily not to show her distress. She looked at me, and then at

Adam. "I'm sorry. Excuse me," she said, and stood up, leaving the room quickly.

I looked at Adam, and then John, uncertain of what to do next. Brian, who had turned around from the window when Hannah left

the room, came over closer to the table to stand.

Adam reached over and took my hand, squeezing it.

"Can you explain that to me?" John asked. "Why you think it's more of a way to settle things with Adam and Brian, as opposed to

having you with her?"

"It seemed as though she wanted to swing me over to her way of thinking," I said, choosing out my words. "She was talking about the past

with any relationship with me, not really in the present. It was mostly about what happened with them when I was little, and how

they still couldn't do for me what she could."

Adam was running his thumb over my hand, almost as though without knowing it. John was regarding me with a

kind expression, and a smile.

"Fellas, you have a very articulate young lady here," John said, to Adam and Brian.

Adam nodded, but didn't speak.

Brian said, "She's one of a kind," and I thought that his voice sounded sort of funny. Choky. Is that a word? Choky. Well,

his voice sounded funny. Strained.

"Can the judge make me go to spend time with her?" I asked.

"I don't think it will come to that," John said. "What with what you've said about the drinking and driving. But, there's always

a chance of it."

"Well, I think I'm old enough to say what I want to do," I said stoutly, without thinking out how it would sound. I realized

it sounded rude, and I said, "I don't mean to sound disrespectful."

John smiled thru his eyes. "It's alright, Harlie. I'm not taking it that way. Go on."

"I thought at twelve that a kid could decide where they want to live, like in a divorce case. I mean, within the

limits of what a judge considers in best interest, and all of that," I said.

"My goodness," John said, and now he was smiling openly. "Future lawyer here?" he asked Adam and Brian.

"She's been reading some law book from the library," Adam said.

"That book's overdue, by the way," I said, and John actually chuckled out loud.

"You're right, at least partially. The judge does take into affect what the juvenile prefers. As long as there's not a safety

issue or anything of that nature in the home," he said. "And the report from the woman at social services doesn't

substantiate any home issues, which bodes well for us."

"Could I talk to the judge?" I asked. "Personally, I mean?"

"It may not be necessary," he said. "He'll likely ask you some questions, while we're all in the room. Be forewarned, as I told

you earlier, that if she can't win full custody, which is nearly certain, that she'll request liberal visitation with Harlie. Which is

always an option of yours, to end it quickly."

"Meaning what?" Adam asked.

"If we have a brief meeting with Karissa, and her lawyer, and you and Brian would agree to Harlie seeing Karissa

occasionally, then I think she might be persuaded to let this custody suit go by the wayside."

"No," Brian said, without warning, his voice strong.

"Brian," Adam said.

"No," Brian said, standing with his hands in his pockets, and looking furious. "I don't want Harlie to be anywhere around that woman."

"Well, neither do I," Adam said, sounding brusque. "Just listen."

"Of course, you're well within your rights to say no to that," John said, looking at Brian.

"What about the drinking, though?" Brian said. "Harlie's told you about the drinking and driving. That's a safety issue, right?"

"It is. We can bring that up definitely," John said. "That will go a long way with the judge. We'll open with that, and see if we can't persuade them

to buckle under a bit."

"Them buckling under sounds darn good to me," Brian said.

7