Brian McFadden had been watching the house from the South pasture all morning. He couldn't bring himself to take one step toward it. There was no way that the first person he faced upon his return would be his big brother. He hadn't believed that his brothers were truly angry with him, until the morning of his hearing, when he found himself alone in the courtroom. He realized they were not coming to support him. Only Crane had slipped in just as things had begun. His younger brother sat in the back, rubbing his beard thoughtfully as the proceeding took place. After the ruling, but before they'd taken him back for all the paperwork, Crane had come striding up on his long lean legs.

"Glad you could make it." Brian couldn't hide the bitterness from his voice.

"Of course." Crane, responded calmly, not taking his bait. "You should be out in a couple of hours."

"Yeah, we know the drill." He'd relaxed then, thinking this was like all the other times.

"Brian," Crane said his voice unusually tense. "This . . . this isn't . . ." He sighed clearly struggling with the right words. "You left Kate alone. She was strapped into her high chair."

"I thought . . ." Brian began, the queasy feeling returning to his stomach.

"It doesn't matter what you thought happened. It only matters what actually happened. She could've tipped the chair over and broken her neck. She could have . . .Look, you can't just walk back in and make a joke this time. This is serious. You are in serious trouble."

"Man, nah, I would never . . .look it was just . . ." He was reaching, trying to find a way to explain things, but by then he was being led away by the bailiff. He never got the chance to really explain things. He was unsurprised when he finally stepped out into the bright morning light there was no one waiting for him.

He had walked to the ranch, cutting through fields and woods whenever he could to avoid being seen. He watched the house all that day - seeing everyone come and go. He had wanted to walk up the wide porch and join in, but from a distance they seemed like strangers to him. How could he possibly return home to strangers? He had stopped in town for "supplies" and watching the house he lifted the bottle to his lips again and again, telling himself he would wait until dark, and then sneak back in. But he'd stayed where he was long after all the lights had gone out, and eventually, he slept, huddled in the field just beyond the ranch. In the morning, he was cold, hungry, and weary. He wondered if anyone had even asked what had happened to him. They knew he was out, Crane had been there. He hadn't seen anyone scanning the horizon for him. Crane hadn't even stayed to give him a lift home after he'd been released. He had become no one. He decided that it was time to go. He would just wait until they were gone, and get what he needed. It wasn't like it mattered to them where he went.

He intended only to pack up his clothes and go . . . he didn't know where, but he wouldn't stay where he was hated. As the dawn spread over the sky, he watched his brothers make their way to the barn, and Guthrie and Ford head to the bus stop. He had to step back into the bushes then, as they passed near him. His heart hammered in his chest as for the briefest second he thought Guthrie had seen him, but they had clambered up onto the big yellow school bus and he knew that she would be the only one home.

His intent was simple. Sneak in the back door, and avoid her if possible. Chances were good she'd be preoccupied with the baby or some chore or both. If he kept very quiet, he could pack up and go. He could send word later. Of course, it was breaking the agreement for his release, but it wasn't like Murphys had a huge police force. They didn't have the manpower to hunt him down if he skipped out. It would take forever for them to put everything in motion to catch up to him, and by then everything would have blown over.

He prayed the backdoor wouldn't squeak, and was relieved when it didn't. He made it up the back stairs, and began packing things up in his room. He was searching first for a bottle of whisky he'd stuffed into his dresser. He just need a little bit of courage to really leave. He got so focused that he never even heard her approach.

"Brian?" Her blue eyes were wide with surprise, and he felt the guilt wash over him, and had to look away.

"I . . . uh, got . . . out a little bit ago and . . ." He rummaged in his drawer, wishing he'd found the bottle before she'd found him. "I didn't know anyone was . . . uh . . . home." He gave up on the bottle, closing the drawer a little more forcefully than he'd intended. The sound of the slam startled her.

"Where else would I be?" He could hear it, the edge of anger in her voice.

"I'm not staying. You don't have to worry about that." He said, closing the drawer, and turning toward her. "I know that I screwed up and I . . ."

"Screwed up?" Her voice pitched up on the last word. "I'm not . . . I can't . . ." He glanced up then expecting fury and rage, but her face was cast over with sadness. "Brian, you are in trouble."

"You've been talking to Crane." He huffed.

"You can't do this anymore." She said her face earnest. "We have to do something different."

"Like what?" He asked bitterly. "Change how things played out? No. I screwed up. I get it."

"Brian," Her eyes grew bright with tears and he felt all courage leave him.

"Look, I'm just gonna pack up some things and I'll be gone. No need for anyone to be upset."

"Everyone is upset." He turned around startled to find that Guthrie was standing beside her in the doorway.

"Guthrie!" She said in surprise. "You should be at school."

"I got off the bus. I saw him. He was watching the place. And I knew Adam would be out and you'd be home alone. He did too. He waited until you were alone."

"No, I was waiting until the place was empty so I wouldn't bother anyone." Brian responded angrily. "I'm not some monster. I just messed up."

"You are a drunk." Guthrie said, and Hannah reached out to grab hold of his arm.

"Guth. . ." She said softly.

"He is." Guthrie glanced at her. "He promised me he would never drink and drive again. That's what he told me. You made me a promise."

"Guthrie that was a long time ago and I didn't . . . I wasn't that worse for wear. I had a few beers is all."

"That's all?" Guthrie's voice rose. "What about Kate? Huh? What about her? You were sitting in the front room and you told Daniel to go out. You said you would watch her. You told Ford and me, that it was all good and you were too tired to go anywhere. And then you walked out the door and left her all alone."

"Guthrie, that's enough." Hannah said, pulling his arm. "Let's go downstairs. You are gonna wake Katy."

"Guthrie, that was . . . I just . . . I made a mistake, alright? I don't need everyone making such a big deal about . . ."

"Hannah?" Adam's voice called from downstairs.

"What did you do?" Brian turned on Guthrie.

"Ford went to find Adam." Guthrie said coolly. "We are up here." He called down.

"Sweetheart, did you . . ." Adam came up the stairs followed by Crane, Daniel and Ford. He stopped speaking as he turned to see Brian. "Honey? You alright?" He asked, reaching out to touch her arm.

"Brian's home." She responded softly.

"I can see that." He said gently to her. He turned to face his brother. "Brian, you made it home."

It was the calmness of it that angered him. Adam welcoming him home. He hadn't bothered to come to the hearing, and here he was acting like . . . it made him angry; it made him sick. Adam acting like he was some sort of wise and forgiving parent. They ought to be screaming at him, or demanding that he apologize. He should apologize. He knew he couldn't do that. How could he possible say anything that would counteract what had been done? And it was an accident. He hadn't meant to leave like he did. He just forgot he was watching Kate. She was so quiet in her chair, eating peaches. That was the last thing he remembered, feeding her peaches. She'd clapped her little hands and hummed happily. She loved all fruit. That was what he remembered her smiling, sticky face, and then he was driving to town to see if Becky was free. Someone had come home. Someone must have come home. He wouldn't have just left. He couldn't have done that. There must have been someone at home. That's the way he remembered it. He couldn't have remembered it wrong, could he?

He looked down and saw that his hands were shaking. He pretended it was from fear, but he knew the truth. If he could just find that bottle they would stop shaking and he would feel better. Everything could be better if they would just leave him alone, and he could take a shot to settle his nerves. He'd had a tough weekend. He deserved it. He looked up and saw all of them, standing and watching him. His family; most of them anyway standing in judgement clustered around the open doorway.

"Well, thanks for the welcome home party." He said suddenly enraged. "It's nice you could show up now. Too bad you didn't make it to the hearing." He expected his brothers' anger to match his own, but they remained silent. The only change was that Adam wrapped an arm around Hannah, who still held onto Guthrie's arm.

"Let's go downstairs." Daniel said, breaking the silence. "We have something we want to say to you."

"No thanks." Brian shook his head. "I'm just here for my things, and I don't need . . ."

"Of course not!" Guthrie exploded. "You don't give a damn about us and . . ."

"Guthrie, hush, now." Hannah said, pulling him closer to her. "Brian, before you go, please?"

He sighed loudly. He had no choice. He would literally have to push a pregnant woman and his brothers out of the way just to get out the bedroom. She was staring at him with her damn, dark blue eyes and he knew he was in for whatever they decided to throw at him.

"Fine. Whatever." He bristled at them. "Let's get it over with."

***7***

They sat in a circle on the couches and chairs. He stood by the fireplace, his eyes darting around the room, not looking any of them in the eye. His eyes landed on the family portrait - the LAST family portrait they'd ever taken with his parents, and he shifted nervously.

"How about a drink, huh?" He asked. "You don't mind, do you? I've had a rough couple of days and . . ."

"It's 8:27 in the morning." Crane told him.

"Right." He chuckled. "It's five o'clock somewhere. Isn't it?"

"Brian," Adam rose from where he sat beside Hannah. "I need to . . I need to . . ."

"Oh, God!" He exploded at them. "You all gonna yell at me? Tell me how I screwed everything up? I don't need to listen to shit like this. I already know, alright? I get it. I'm the bastard who left his baby niece alone. Jesus! Like that's something I can sorry for? How? She could've . . ." He glanced at Hannah who was silent, but with tears streaming down her face. He took a step toward her. "What am I supposed to say to you?"

"Leave her alone." Guthrie growled.

"Guthrie, easy." Crane said, a hand on Guthrie's shoulder. "We aren't here to yell at you."

"Right? Then why the big gathering? To tell me how awesome I am? What is this?" Brian asked.

"An apology." Adam said, his voice even. Brian staggered back.

"Wh . . .wh . . .what?"

"You've been in trouble for a long time now." Adam said, his voice husky. "And I was too stubborn or stupid to see it." He swallowed hard. "We spent so much time making sure the boys were okay. There's never been time for you, and . . . well, I didn't do right by you. I screwed up." He glanced down, pushing the toe of his boot against the floor. "I turned away when you first started drinking, telling myself you just needed to let off some steam. Even those first times you get hauled into the jail, I just acted like it was normal." He paused again. "I'm . . .I'm just so . . ." Brian was stunned to see his older brother with tears in his dark eyes. Hannah reached out for her husband's hand then, and he watched as Adam clung tightly to her fingers. "I'm real sorry, Brian. I let you down."

Brian stood speechless, actually frozen and unable to respond. He had expected bitter anger. He expected yelling and rage. This was the last thing he expected.

"There's a place near Angel's Camp and we got a spot for you." Crane was speaking now. "They have counselors and . . ."

"Rehab?" Brian found his voice, suddenly. "No. I'm not . . . it was just . . ."

"It 'just happens' all the time, brother." Daniel told him. "Your hands are shaking right now. Why is that? You need a drink? Pretending like it isn't a big deal is why we are here. Ignoring it is why this happened."

"So, I'm just some pathetic loser?" He asked, finding himself suddenly angry, again. "You pack me up and send me away?"

"You were packing to leave us." Guthrie pointed out. "You waited until we are gone, and snuck in the back door to pack up and disappear."

"You are such a kiss ass, Guthrie." He turned on his baby brother. "Every since she came. You are always sucking up to her like some pathetic . . ."

"Mama's boy?" Guthrie finished for him. "Damn, straight. Maybe we can think about why that is, huh? And this isn't about her, or me. This about you. This is about you drinking too much."

"You are a child." Brian spat.

"Guth and I are nearly as old as you and Adam were when they died." Ford said.

Brian turned, surprised. Ford was the quietest and never liked a fight. He never spoke up, unless someone pushed him to do it. It was surprising how loud his soft voice seemed.

"You were kids just like us." Ford continued. "And I gotta think that messed with your head. I mean on Friday you were playing football, and by Sunday morning, you were taking care of us. It was like the turning of a switch. It was all I could think about the day I turned 16. This, this is how old Brian was when he started raising me. And we don't remember anything different - not Guth and me. You and Adam are all I know. You both made sure that all of us talked to that counselor, and brought Daniel back to her when he was having a hard time. You made sure that Crane had someone to talk to after that one bad week and he ran off. You took care of us. You still do, but you haven't ever taken care of you - neither of you."

"Ford . . ." He rubbed at his temples, his head throbbing. "I don't . . . this isn't . . ."

"You love Katie." Hannah said and he turned to find his sister-in-law standing in front of him. "You love her. You would never, ever do anything to hurt her. Never." Hannah's voice was fierce. "But you left her alone in this house."

"I'm sorry . . ." But she cut him off.

"No, I'm not looking for an apollogy. That's not why I . . . Brian, you were so drunk, you forgot you were watching her. You forgot and she could've been hurt, and she could've . . ." Hannah stretched out her fingers, gently turning his face to meet her eyes. "She could've died."

"I know that." He said, suddenly sobbing. "I know. I'm so sorry. You can't know how sorry."

"I do." She answered him. "I know it. And you are gonna prove it, right now. You are gonna get in the jeep with your brothers, and let them take you to Brighter Futures because things have slipped past your control, and because we can't bear to watch it any more. I can't stand to see you suffer."

"I'm not a drunk." He said, but there was no force behind it anymore. "I'm not."

"No," Adam stood beside Hannah. "No, you are our brother." He reached up his hands on Brian's arms, pulling him close. "You are loved and we aim to make things right for you."

"We aim to take care of you, the way you took care of us." Crane said and he found himself surrounded by his brothers, a protective ring, encircling him, and he knew that he had to surrender.

***7***

"What did he say?" Hannah's voice was quiet, she lay beside Adam who had returned home late, and flopped exhausted into bed.

"Nothing. He must have been feeling terrible. He looked horrible by the time we got there. And I think he'd worked his way back around to anger by then."

"Yeah." She said softly, her hand rubbing gently back and forth across her swollen stomach. "I'm sorry, Adam."

"You're sorry?" He rubbed his face and then turning toward her said, "Baby doll, I ain't got one ounce left in me just now, so don't go being sweet to me. Be pissed off that my brother left your baby girl . . ."

"Stop it." She swatted at his shoulder. "It doesn't help. You know I am furious. Just close your eyes and sleep. Guthrie and Ford said they will do all the chores tomorrow."

"They've got school." He said closing his eyes.

"They are staying home." She reached out, her hand rubbing soft circles on his shoulder. "They wouldn't be able to concentrate, Adam. And neither one takes school lightly, you know that. They are hurting and confused. They need your reassurance. They need to be here together with all of you."

"And what about you?" He asked, opening his eyes to look up at her. "This has got to stir up some pretty painful memories."

"It's funny," She paused wistfully. "I was thinking about that last night when we were waiting for Brian to come home. I didn't know my father the way I know Brian. I can understand how it happened. You were kids, and it was a way to escape from it. It became a habit and then I guess it just took over." She shrugged. "I guess it could have been something similar for Daddy. I don't know. And this is different, Brian isn't violent when he's drunk."

Adam sighed, trying not to picture Hannah small and frightened, hiding from her father. He stretched up and kissed her cheek. "I'm sorry, darlin'. If you had shut that trailer door on me, you might have done yourself some favors."

"Oh, stop." She said. "You are my whole world, and this is just a bad time. We get through bad times."

"What should I say to them?" Adam asked her. "Guthrie and Ford?"

"Oh, I don't know. You know them best."

"What would you have wanted someone to say to you?" He was leaning on his elbow now, peering in the darkness at the familiar lines of her face, one hand resting on her stomach.

She didn't respond right away, and when she did her voice was small. "That it wasn't my fault. That it had nothing to do with me."

"Yeah. That's right." He responded thoughtfully, and then turning to her said. "It wasn't your fault, darlin'."

She did not respond to this, but rather, grabbed his hand. "The baby is kicking." He was completely distracted by the wonder of it, and found himself smiling in spite of the horrible, grueling day. "I think it is another sweet, baby girl." He told her. "Or maybe I hope it is. What do you think?"

"Time will tell." She answered. "I'm not guessing."

"Hmm." He lay back and found himself staring at the ceiling. "I don't want to face another day like today, baby, but if I do, you sure better be at my side."

"It isn't your fault, either, Adam." She said softly. "It isn't your fault."

"Okay." He said, his arm covering his eyes. "That's enough. Time for sleep."

"Hey," She said, and he felt the bed shift as she moved, so that she leaned over him, gently pushing his arm aside. "I ever lie to you?"

"Hannah, don't."

"Answer the question, cowboy."

"No, ma'am." His response was soft, and he felt his eyes well up with tears even as he spoke.

"I'm not lying to you, now. You were 17 years old, and you did the best you could. You did right by your brothers and your parents, and this struggle of Brian's, is not your fault. It isn't." He nodded silently as he tried to fight back the raging ocean of emotion he felt. "But you bear the weight of it just the same." She continued, her soft hand resting against his chest. "And it is heavy." He nodded his head, too wounded for words, and she wrapped her arms around him, and he felt himself sinking not only into the comforting softness of her body, but the comforting softness of her consistent, faithful, unconditional love.

***7***

Brian stared up at the white ceiling above his head. The room was small, smaller even then he imagined a dorm room to be. He wanted nothing more to rise up out his bed, and make his way to town and to the nearest bar. He'd opened his door once, and a kindly counselor immediately asked, "Do you need something?"

He wanted to respond, "A good stiff drink," but instead shook his head and darted back into his closet-sized room. Staring at the ceiling now though, he realized that it was the first time in a long time that he'd slept inside an actual bedroom. It felt strange. It felt lonely. He closed his eyes and tried to focus his mind on the way the mountains stretched up and up beyond their fence line. He wanted desperately to drink. He wanted desperately to fall asleep. He wanted desperately to forget the look on his brothers' faces as they left his behind to try and recover what was left of his lonely life.