"Family faces are magic mirrors. Looking at people who belong to us, we see the past, present and future." -Gail Lumet Buckley

Seattle, Washington:

Joe

"Joe? You awake?" Frank's muffled voice sounded like a yell inside my throbbing head. Note to self: Never ever sleep on the floor ever again...oh and buy some aspirin.

"Yeah, I'm up," I mumbled, fumbling with the lock on my door. After I unlocked the door I let Frank push it open all the way, while I stumbled around trying to find some clean clothes.

"You're a mess," he commented taking in my disheveled appearance.

"Good morning to you too." I muttered the sarcastic remark while rubbing my temples, trying to relieve the massive migraine.

I hadn't noticed Frank's intent gaze on me until he spoke again, "Penny for them."

I sighed. I knew there was no way of getting around Frank and his questions. He would keep asking and keep pestering me until I told him about it. He has good intentions, I know he just wants to make sure I'm okay. But sometimes persistence can turn into annoyance. Me being on the receiving end of the annoyance.

It was bizarre. Usually I was the one pestering Frank. He was pretty good about understanding when I didn't want to discuss something, but right now I knew he wasn't going to back down. So to avoid any more major arguments I caved.

"Van and I had a fight last night. It may or may not concern a conversation you had with her. But nothing to worry about," I told him, my voice dripping with sardonic ire. I wasn't really mad with him, but there was definitely room for aggravation here.

"Sorry Joe," was all Frank could say. I looked up at him, his sincere face pleading me to understand his side. I knew the anger I was feeling towards my father was leaving it's toll of destruction behind me, and Frank was right in the middle of that disaster. Trying to pick up the pieces no less. I couldn't take my crossness out on Frank.

"No, don't apologize, I've been a jerk and I deserve it. Karma's getting to me," I sighed.

"It'll be okay littler brother," Frank said putting a reassuring hand on my shoulder, "Your karma can't be all negative, right?"

...

"Dad? Daddy?" a small, sweet voice entered my thoughts.

"Hmmm?" I replied, still holding on to my memory.

"Daddy? What's wrong?" Samantha's voice finally broke through.

"Hmm? Oh nothing Sammy," I said scooping her up in my arms, "What's up?" I asked, sweeping a piece of blond hair from her blue eyes.

"Momma told me that she wants to talk to you," Samantha said with a smile. I sat the seven year old down on the chair arm next to me.

"Thanks for letting me know Sam," I said with a wink and then headed upstairs to Vanessa's study.

"Oh you are just like your father!" Vanessa shouted out the door of her study as my fifteen year old, "exact copy of me son" as Vanessa always says, stormed past me and down the stairs.

"Hey babe, what was that all about?" I said walking in and taking a seat on the small couch next to Vanessa's desk.

"Joe? Do you know what Jared just asked for?" she said, a little frantically. I shook my head, even though I knew it was a rhetorical question.

"A Motorcycle! Can you believe that!" she practically howled. All I could do was laugh.

"It's not funny Joe. He thinks just because you had one when you were young that he should get one too," Vanessa said, shaking her head.

"Ah come on Van, can't you compromise with him? Maybe tell him he can have one when he turns sixteen? That's when I got mine," I reasoned.

"You're taking his side!" she exclaimed.

"I'm not taking anyone's side Van," I tried to tell her.

"Well I was right about one thing," she said, calming down, "He's just like you." I just smiled at her wryly.

"Now then, Sam said you wanted to talk to me. Is this what you wanted to talk about?" I questioned.

"Oh don't you know?" Vanessa said in a mocking voice. I just rolled my eyes and kept waiting for her to tell me, instead of wasting time trying to sort through her mind, "No, there's something I think you need to see," she replied, her voice grew softer. She sat down at her desk and opened her computer. Vanessa's grey-blue eyes looked up from her laptop. Her delicate lips were set in a grim line. Uh-oh.

"What's going on Van? What's wrong?" I asked, without even thinking about just "reading" for myself.

"Well," she started to say. I nodded my head for her to continue, "Well, it seems someone got a hold of my e-mail address through the school." I knew what she was talking about. Vanessa teaches a computer graphics class at Center High School.

"Okay, what's the problem?"

"I just got an e-mail from a Mrs. Hooper. Joe, it's Hope."

...

Portland, Oregon:

Frank

"Remind me again why I am dropping you off at an abandoned barn at ten o'clock at night?" I asked Joe as we drove out of Bayport. I had pretty much dropped the whole Vanessa subject by now and I'm sure Joe was happy to get some sleuthing in to keep his mind off of her.

"Because Fenton said..." Joe began but was cut off.

"Would you quit calling him Fenton, Joe! He's your dad for heaven's sake, so call him that!" I fumed, but he just gave me a stern look accompanied by a dramatic role of his eyes.

"Fine. Because dad said that he has reason to believe that there is an illegal drug ring working somewhere outside of Bayport, and that abandoned barn is a natural place for drug dealers to work out of Frank," Joe explained.

"Yes and dad also said not to go off investigating without him," I said.

"Yeah so?" he shot back, "Listen Frank I have a hunch and I'm going to follow it up, and no one, not even you can stop me."

"Well I know that. With that temper of yours it wouldn't be wise of me to challenge you on anything, let alone try and keep you out of harms way," I said scornfully.

"You know Frank you are growing more sarcastic everyday," Joe replied. We rolled up to the warehouse and Joe began to open the car door when I pulled him back.

"Joe. All I want to say is..." I started.

"Yeah, yeah, I know be careful. Like I haven't heard that a thousand times. But thanks for your concern big bro," Joe said, almost sincerely. Then he proceeded to get out of our van and walk quietly up to the unlocked door of the dilapidated building. I sighed and knew it was a mistake to leave but yet, I did anyways...

...

I woke with a start at what I thought was my brother's voice. It turned out to be the complete opposite voice, of my wife, Callie.

"Frank? Frank dear, wake up!" she said pulling the pillow from out beneath my head.

"Mmmmmm," was the only thing I could muster.

"C'mon Frank, get up, I have to wash the sheets!" Callie said, laughing as I pulled her by the waist, down into our bed. I was still half asleep as she thrashed about in my arms. I let her go and opened my eyes gazing at my old Bayport High baseball cap sitting on my dresser along with my wedding photo, a picture of my kids, Seth, Allison, and Joel, and a picture of Joe and his family. I sighed and started to get out of bed.

"Oh Frank," she mumbled, as I got up and she threw my pillow at me. I smiled into her warm face, her green eyes glowing in the morning sunlight.

I saw my youngest son of four, Joel, run into the room, following Callie as she pulled off the pillow cases and sheets.

"Morning sport," I said rustling is dark brown hair. His brown eyes beamed up at me in admiration and he jumped up on the bed, attempting to "help" his mom.

I pulled on some old jeans and a t-shirt and walked downstairs to the kitchen. Two pairs of eyes stared up at me. Allison's were green like her mother's and Seth's bright blue. He really does have his eyes, I thought giving them each a kiss on the head before pouring myself a cup of coffee.

"Good morning daddy! Mommy said that today we could go to the zoo!" seven year old Allison said, pushing a lock of strawberry blond hair from her face.

"Of course we can Ally," I replied sneaking a glance at my fifteen year old son, Seth, who just smiled. I can never tell with him anymore. One day he wants to spend the whole day with his family and the next he won't have anything to do with us. That's teenagers for you I guess.

"Frank!" Callie called from upstairs.

"Yeah Cal, what's up?" I said walking to the bottom of the stairs.

"Your phone buzzed," she explained. I walked upstairs and to the desk in our master bedroom where my phone and laptop sat. I picked up my phone and flipped it open, glancing at the text message. It read "check your e-mail bro," and it was from Joe.

Joe and Vanessa were the only people from my past that knew that Callie, the kids, and I lived in Portland. We stayed in touch but rarely ever got together. Usually once a year or so. Our kids had become good friends because they were each close in age, and looked forward to the yearly visit with Uncle Joe, Aunt Vanessa, and their cousins, Jared and Samantha. But Joe had never contacted me like this before.

I went to my laptop and opened up my e-mail. Reading through my messages I found the one Joe was talking about, it had to be the one Joe was talking about.

I opened it and skimmed through what it said. I had never met the woman that had sent the e-mail. But from what she said I knew who she was, as if I'd known her my whole life. Guilt consumed me as I realized I had missed the wedding. How could I? How could I have missed one of my closest friends weddings? After all he went through? And then another thought crossed my mind, oh my god, how did they find us? Callie must have noticed my cold gaze on the computer because she came over to stand behind me.

"Who's it from?" she asked quietly.

"Louisa, Louisa Prito. Tony's," I paused, "...wife."