Maggie

Insufferable man. Just when she thought they were making headway, doing better about understanding each other, he said something so disagreeable that she couldn't help but hate him a little bit. How could he talk about his friends like that? Did he really hold so much contempt for the Higgins, who had been by his side for so long? She didn't want to believe it, knowing how much this whole situation had hurt Nick and Becca. And his sister! Faith was in fine form that night, exceeding Maggie's expectations for pretentiousness. Maggie thought her not unlike Mr. Bell in that regard, always using someone else's discomfort for their own amusement or gain.

She felt slighted by John's pointed cut, sure no one else had failed to notice it, either. He had hardly glanced in her direction the rest of the evening, though Maggie's attention was often drawn towards him. He commanded attention, his charismatic speech and animated expressions often held court during the dinner. As she watched him, she was struck again with how handsome he looked. There was an indescribable quality that he held, a mixture of power and confidence in the way he carried himself. Yet, he was never fully at ease. That was obvious; any small disturbance in the room was instantly noticed, eyes ever roving over the group to assure everyone's comfort and enjoyment.

It was obvious that her father wasn't pleased with the tone of the dinner, though he didn't say anything directly. They were largely silent on the trip home, each lost in their own thoughts. Mr. Hale wandered off towards the music room as soon as they arrived, while Maggie stepped into the kitchen for a glass of water. She stumbled upon Dixie, hurriedly putting away pill bottles into a small lock box.

"What are those?" Maggie asked, grabbing one still on the counter in front of Dixie. She read the label, a medication she wasn't familiar with, but it was her mother's name on the bottle. "What are these for?"

Dixie looked suspicious and shrugged a little. "Oh, just some medicines." She grabbed the last bottle from Maggie and put it in the box, locking it and cradling it under her arm before turning to go.

Her retreat was blocked by Maggie, who wasn't at all satisfied with her vague answer. "What kind of medication? Why do you have them hidden away in a box?" She folded her arms, apparently determined for an answer.

"They're just her usual nighttime medicines, the ones the Emory doctor prescribed." Maggie hadn't known she had even seen an Emory doctor yet, much less been prescribed a box full of medication. Dixie could see the confusion and concern in the younger girl's eyes as the implication of this settled in. She resigned herself to tell Maggie the truth about her mother, though her old friend had asked her not to. It wasn't something that Maria would be able to talk to her daughter openly about. Neither Dixie nor Maria had wanted to worry the family needlessly, but she could see that the time for that was passed.

After the events of the night, Maggie was not prepared for the revelations that Dixie hoisted upon her. How could she have been so blind to her own mother's condition? She should have been more alert, more helpful. They shouldn't have endeavored to hide it from her in the first place. She thought to scold Dixie for this but was overcome with the desire to be near her mother, the realization that time in her presence was limited weighing heavily upon her.

John

The guests were gone, The Mill was set to rights, and John sat in his office contemplating the successes and failures of the night. His body was exhausted, but his mind was running at double time. There was so much to do; he needed to be ready as soon as Williams gave him the green light on his plan. John was incredibly grateful for his friend, glad that he had shown up as he knew he would. Williams was right, though, the plan was risky. But if it worked, it had the potential to save not only his own business but venues all around the city.

In general, everyone had seemed to have a nice time. He was pleased with the turnout, his mother's impeccable planning shinning throughout the night. They'd at least managed to put on a good show of stability if nothing else. The casual viewer would guess nothing amiss, judging from the finery and laughter of the night. It didn't matter that everyone there knew it was all a ruse.

There was, of course, a glaring dark spot on the evening. Faiths rudeness and his own harsh words reflected poorly on their family, he knew, at least in Maggie's eyes. He could feel her watching him the rest of the evening, daring him to face her like a man. Yet he couldn't. There was too much else to be worried about, he couldn't allow himself to be caught up in another argument with her. It would drive him to distraction, and this was a time where he could not afford to be distracted.

He glanced down at the flier he was working on, already imaging the places he would place them. Athens, Dahlonega, Carrollton, Milledgeville, Statesboro. John thought that the combination of a local band's homecoming show and the opportunity for free shows in the future would be enough to draw college kids into the city. A Saturday night after midterms, miraculously on UGA's bye week- it was almost too perfect. A little short notice, but it was when Williams band was free, if they agreed. John would work through the night if needed, in order to get the fliers up as quickly as possible. He hoped the colleges were far enough removed from the city and the boycotters that the news wouldn't reach the Ghosts immediately, though he doubted it would be kept on the down low for long.

There wasn't much the Ghosts could do about it, anyway. They couldn't prevent an outside crowd from coming in. If he could draw enough people, have the right promoters and reporters present, he could show them that music wasn't dead in Atlanta. They would have hope, Ghosts or no Ghosts. A dramatic show of force could be all that was needed to turn the tides of public opinion, which obviously favored the boycotters at the moment.

Plan firmly in mind, John allowed himself to relax for a moment. As soon as Williams contacted him with the confirmation, he would be ready to go, to paint the smaller college towns with his advertisements. Maybe he could convince Williams to go with him; it would be like the old days when they were teenagers and would drive up to the mountains for some fresh, country air. They'd both dreamed about the colleges they would go to, what their majors would be, as they looked over the little college town up in the foothills of the Appalachians. Or when they would make the trip to Athens for a game, full of Georgia pride in their red and black.

Reflecting on those glory days, he wondered if Maggie had been outside the city to see any of the gorgeous sights in the surrounding area. She would probably love them, he thought, she seemed like the kind of girl who would appreciate nature and small-town charm. An image of a feisty little girl growing up in the New England countryside came into his mind, making him smile. Enough with this nonsense, he chastised himself. If she didn't have a poor enough opinion of him now, she definitely would after his plan went into action.

With that disheartening thought, he stood up, glancing at the stack of fliers he had at the ready. No, Maggie wasn't going to take kindly to his scheme, and he didn't blame her. He hated artifice and deceit, but sometimes there were forces beyond his control. Those forces were pushing him towards this plan of his, making him grasp at the only chance he had to come out on the other side relatively unscathed. If it only worked. Flipping off the lights, John walked home in the quiet night, grateful for this small calm before the coming storm.

Maggie

Somehow, she had not noticed how frail and thin her mother had become. It was odd how things can change right under your nose, and you don't notice until someone points out the difference to you. Translucent skin, gaunt eyes, trembling hands. Mrs. Hale was the very picture of an ill person. Yet, Maggie and her father had remained willfully ignorant of this fact, letting the woman waste slowly away right before their eyes without even realizing it was happening. Maggie stood in the doorway for a moment, the breath knocked out of her lungs as she absorbed the severity of her mother's health.

"Oh, Maggie! You're back. Come on in, tell me all about the party. Did you have fun?" Mrs. Hale straightened up and patted the bed beside her, where she had been reading, awaiting her family's return. She noticed that Maggie looked upset, her eyes fixed on the floor as she moved slowly toward the bed. "What's wrong, my little bird?"

Maggie sat lightly on the edge of the bed, fighting back the sudden rush of tears that made her eyes feel hot. She couldn't seem to find the words to say without revealing what she now knew. Her mother was more perceptive than usual and quickly caught onto the reason for her distress. "Oh, dear, what did your aunt Dixie tell you? She promised she wouldn't say anything."

Shaking her head quickly, Maggie finally spoke up with a trembling voice. "I made her tell me, so don't blame her," she said.

"Dixie is the one who said we should keep it between us," her mother murmured, not irritated but not quite pleased to be having this conversation.

That revelation sparked Maggie's anger, which was already simmering just below the surface. "Who is she to make that decision? I'm your daughter!" She raised her voice a bit more than she intended, causing her mother to flinch in response.

Sighing, Mrs. Hale shushed her daughter. "Hush now, I don't want to alarm your father." On one hand, Maggie thought he ought to be alarmed. But she understood now was probably not the time to do so. Her mother continued, "Don't be angry at Dixie, love. You know she's been better to me than my own sister."

Maggie lowered her voice to match her mother's. "I won't, I'm sorry." She gave her mother a hug.

They sat there a moment before Mrs. Hale started speaking again. "I've been thinking about our home, out in the country. I used to complain about it, how it was too boring, and I wanted to go somewhere more exciting. Now, I'll be able to see it again… And Finn. I'll never see him either." Now her eyes filled with tears, her voice trembling. "I don't think I can stand it, Maggie." Her soft crying sounded like thunder in the small room, which brought Dixie running in.

"Shh, now, it's okay," Dixie bundled up the smaller woman in a hug, shooting Maggie a disapproving look as she comforted her friend. Maggie felt shut out from this private scene, as if she were intruding on something that didn't involve her. It was the worst kind of feeling, to be an outsider in your own family, but not one she was unfamiliar with. Soon enough it seemed her mother and aunt Dixie had all but forgotten she was there, so Maggie turned quietly and left the room, making her way to the kitchen with her own quiet tears.

That's where Dixie found her sometime later, staring off into space in the kitchen. The older woman quickly got to work getting her something to snack on. "So, now you know everything," she said, sitting down at the table across from Maggie. "I guess you'll tell your father, too."

Maggie shook her head, giving voice to the thought that had been tumbling around in her head. "No, I don't think I will. I don't know if he can handle that right now. Besides, I'm sure he has some idea." Though she wasn't so sure; if she hadn't noticed herself, why would her oblivious father be any more perceptive?

But her aunt Dixie seemed satisfied with this answer. "I've known for a while now how sick she was. That's why I came down here, you know?" She didn't expect an answer, continuing talking without pause, "I remember the first time we met, in junior high. She was so charming and popular. But when she saw me fall in gym, she took me to the nurse's office and helped me back to class. We've been friends ever since. Now," she said, patting Maggie's hand affectionately, "it's late, you should be getting off to bed."

Standing up, Maggie gave Dixie a hug. "I'm sorry I was angry with you, aunt Dixie," she said.

"Oh, hush. It's good to see some fire in you! It reminds me of your brother," she replied, smiling wistfully at her best friend's daughter, so unlike her friend. Maggie was certainly a picture of her father. It saddened her, knowing that when Maria was gone there would be nothing left, no reminder of her in the daughter she left behind. It was with these thoughts that she sat in the kitchen, long after Maggie had gone to bed.

John

The storm rolled in just a couple days later, in the form of Williams standing in his doorway, a grin on his face. "Let's do it," he said simply when John looked up from the papers on his desk to see who had arrived. It was already evening; this time of day the only person he expected to come to his office would be his mother, or perhaps Faith if she wanted something from him. Williams' presence shouldn't have been a surprise since he had been waiting on an answer. But the sight of his friend brought a childlike excitement, one he hadn't felt in a long time.

There was a sense of danger in his heart as they set out. It was familiar, but very different from the kind of danger to which John had become comfortable with. it wasn't a mortal danger; this wasn't a war-torn country. He didn't need to fear for his life tonight. Even if their plan didn't work, he would survive. John smiled, taking a deep breath of the crisp fall air before climbing into Williams' Mercedes. The car was different, the destinations were different, the boys were now men, but the feeling was the same. The two of them, heading out on a search for adventure.

It grew dark as they traveled from town to town, putting up fliers where ever it was allowed, and a few places it wasn't. They were exhausted by the end, the sun coming up over the horizon as they finished up and stopped at Waffle House for some breakfast. John was incredibly grateful for his old friend's help, taking time out of his busy schedule to drive all over the state on a whim. They hadn't spent this much time together in years, possibly not since John joined the army.

It was this thought that caused a small grimace to cross John's face. Williams, always perceptive, noticed his expression and stopped mid-bite, setting his fork down next to his waffle. "What is it?" He asked, though he had some idea what was on his friend's mind. Williams mind had been wandering in a similar direction.

The parallels between this morning and one many year's past were glaring to both of them. John had just finished up a late shift at his warehouse job, and Williams had been partying after another sold out show; he was drunk, so John went and picked him up. They went to Waffle house to sober him up before dropping him off at home. A plate of waffles, some hash browns, and a couple cups of coffee later, Williams dropped the bomb on John.

"I'm leaving." John had almost thought it was a joke, but the serious look on his friend's face said otherwise. He was leaving, going on tour with his band, leaving John behind to navigate the waters alone. It was hard for Williams to leave his home, but he wanted to be a rock star, and eventually, he was. Meanwhile, John joined the army. He didn't do it out of a sense of American pride or on a search for adventure, but because he thought he had no other choice. This time, no one was there to talk him out of his crazy scheme. The news hadn't even reached his best friend before he was in basic training.

It wasn't Williams' fault, of course, but they both knew how the outcome would have changed, had he been around. He would have never let his friend join the army, and John wouldn't have come back broken inside and out. Thank god for Mr. Bell, the old coot, for taking John under his wing. The thing was, he shouldn't have had to in the first place.

Now, in the very same Waffle House as all those years ago, with many of the same workers, the same booths, probably the same grime on the stove top, there was so much between them that remained unsaid. John sighed and shook his head, giving his friend a small smile. "Thanks, Andy. For everything." Now wasn't the time to talk about the past. John had to prepare himself for the very, very near future, and the backlash of their hurried road trip. There wouldn't be any time to sleep today, because as sleepy college towns woke up with the sun, the calls came flooding in, and John knew it wouldn't be long before the news reached the boycotters. His counter strike was in full swing, and he was ready for whatever came next.