Excruciating pain shot through her ankle as it twisted and she tumbled into the sand. She attempted to stand up, but only came crashing back down in the sand. Whimpering, she crawled around, gathering all of her belongings that had tumbled astray. Once she had all of her possessions together, she began to crawl away from the beach, towards the quaint town in hopes of finding help.

"Um, Ma'am… What're you doin'?" a young voice inquired.

Chelsea craned her neck to face the child, "I am trying to get to town."

The little girl giggled, "I mean why are you crawling?"

Chelsea laughed as well, "I hurt my ankle and I can't walk."

The little girl's face fell in pity but she smiled again, "I can help you!"

"Thank you…um, what's your name?" Chelsea asked the girl.

"Emma," she replied and helped Chelsea stand up.

As they neared the town, Chelsea spoke up, "How old are you Emma?"

"Eleven. Where are you staying Ma'am?" Emma replied.

"I'm staying with my aunt. Her name is Mirabelle. Do you know her?"

Emma nodded vigorously, "My daddy buys his cattle from her. She's a real nice lady. … How old are you Ma'am?"

"Twenty-six. Call me Chelsea."

"Okay Chelsea. I think we should stop by my house before you go to Mirabelle's shop. Your ankle looks swollen."

She contemplated her options for a moment, but decided that Emma was right. As they walked in silence towards Emma's house, Chelsea couldn't help but notice how unusual the child looked. Stark brown hair contrasted against her fair, ashen skin. What was even odd was the fact that she had deep amethyst eyes.

"We're here!" Emma said as they entered the house… errr… mansion actually.

She led Chelsea to a cow skin sofa and ordered her to sit while she fetched some ice for her ankle. Chelsea took that time to soak in the extravagance of the abode. Crystal chandelier hung from the high ceiling. The regality ended there. The rest of the home was filled with country style furnishing, which indicated that either the mother was a terrible interior decorator or the mother was just plain absent. Chelsea leaned toward the latter option because most of the pictures were just of Emma and her father. She couldn't make out what the father looked like in the photos because they were too far away.

"I hope this helps," Emma said and placed the ice on her ankle.

"Thank you Emma. You are quite independent," Chelsea observed.

Emma sighed, "I have to be. My dad gets home really late and my mom died a long time ago."

Chelsea could feel her heart break, "So you're all alone?"

Emma shook her head, "Not all the time. During the summers, my dad usually hires a nanny to take care of me. But this year, my nanny quit and now my dad has to find a replacement."

"That's terrible."

The doorbell chiming distracted them from Emma's melancholy story.

"Oh… I forgot to tell you! I called Mirabelle and your cousin is coming to pick you up," Emma explained as she opened the door.

In walked a gorgeous woman around Chelsea's age. Long blonde hair hung in two loose pigtails and a cowboy had sat on her head. She had lively blue eyes that smiled at Chelsea. She wore a red flannel shirt along with a pair of tiny levi shorts and brown cowboy boots. Chelsea blushed as she looked down at her wool sweater and khaki capris; suddenly she felt extremely embarrassed.

"Chelsea!" the beautiful woman squealed in a country accent and pulled her into a tight embrace.

"Hey…" Chelsea began but realized she didn't know her name. She looked over to Emma for help. Emma giggled but mouthed, "Julia."

Chelsea cleared her throat, "Hello Julia. It's nice to see you again."

Julia giggled, "No need to be so formal! Let's head back home, Mirabelle is waitin'!"

Once they waved goodbye to Emma, they hopped into Julia's red pickup truck and headed to her house.

Julia initiated the conversation, "Did you get to meet Emma's father?"

"No… not yet. Why?" Chelsea asked.

Julia turned to face Chelsea, "Vaughn is a hunk. He is the most gorgeous man I've ever seen in my life."

"Vaughn. That's an odd name. What's his wife's name?" Chelsea inquired, disregarding the mention of his looks.

"Sabrina. But she died when Emma was a baby. He must have loved her a lot because he has sworn off women for good," Julia complained.

"How did she die?" Chelsea pressed. She couldn't help it, it was in her journalist blood.

Julia rolled her eyes, "Aren't you full of questions. No one knows, he never talks about her."

"That's so sad," Chelsea mused.

"You're tellin' me. It's depressing how good looking he is, but won't ever date," Julia whined.

Chelsea rolled her eyes, "I meant it's sad that his wife died and that Emma doesn't have a mother."

Julia waved her hand, "Yah, I guess that's sad too."

They pulled up into the driveway of a quaint store that smelled like cow manure. Chelsea tried not to gag and looked over at a completely unfazed Julia.

"You get used to it, Citygal" Julia said, not even looking at Chelsea.

They hopped out of the car and headed inside the store. Julia pulled on an apron and began to organize products behind the counter.

"Mirabelle is out back. She'll be right in," Julia said and motioned for Chelsea to sit down.

"Get inside you lazy ASS!" Mirabelle shouted from outside.

Chelsea looked over at Julia with a worried expression but Julia just smirked and suppressed a chuckle.

A plump woman struggled to walk into the room as she pulled a mule that trailed behind her. Releasing an exhausted pant, Mirabelle took a seat next to Chelsea.

"Good to see you dear!" Mirabelle began, "You're such a beautiful young woman! Julia look here. You should take some pointers from Chelsea. Look how refined and conservative she looks, instead of the revealing clothes you wear."

Julia rolled her eyes, "Moooom! My clothes serve their purpose."

Mirabelle scoffed, "Is that purpose to attract Elliot, the hooligan next door?"

Julia stuck her tongue out, "No. I have to work for you and it's hot outside. So therefore my clothes are functional."

"…Why don't you show Chelsea to your room? She should lie down and elevate her ankle," Mirabelle offered, not wanting to argue with her daughter in front of company.

"I reckon I should," Julia said sassily. Julia grabbed Chelsea's hand and pulled her up the staircase into the living portion of the building.

Julia led her into a small room. Two twin sized beds and a small closet.

"I know she ain't much, but she'll last us the summer," Julia said, "I'll leave you to unpack. Afterwards, you should really relax so your ankle doesn't get worse," Julia grinned mischievously, "Tonight you get to meet the girls!"

Chelsea smiled and shook her head, suppressing her groan. She didn't want to appear ungrateful, but parties really weren't her thing. "Sounds great!"

Julia jumped up and down, clapping her hands, "Yay! It's going to be so much fun."

After Julia left, Chelsea began rummaging through her suitcase to find a decent outfit for later that night. Whimpering, she pulled out various articles of her sister's clothing, which looked a lot like Julia's. With a dramatic sigh, Chelsea collapsed on to her bed. She was exhausted; traveling for hours by boat, twisting your ankle and having to limp to town, and work.

She bolted upright. "I still have to find a good story for my column!"

Groaning, she fell onto her bed once more before slipping into oblivion.