Cheyenne and Elizabeth had fallen asleep in Van and Cheyenne's room, watching Charlotte's Web. The last thing Cheyenne remembered was Wilbur being some pig. The next thing she knew, Van was shaking her awake. The room was dark except for the lamp Van had switched on, but when she opened her eyes, she saw Van's face and the television screen that had turned blue, the little DVD logo bouncing from one corner to the next. Elizabeth was gone.

"I fell asleep," She muttered, sitting up. "What time is it?"

"Ten thirty," Van said, taking his tie off.

Cheyenne's thoughts went to Barbra Jean as her hand flew to her end-table to grab her phone. Nine missed calls and three voice-mails.

The first was from Van.

"Hey, babe. Gonna be working later than I thought. Sorry. I'll try you again later. Bye."

She deleted that one and went to the next.

"Hey, Cheyenne, it's me," Barbra Jean's voice said. "Henry's back and he's okay. Just wanted to let you guys know so you wouldn't worry. Call me. Bye."

The message was deleted and Cheyenne breathed a sigh of relief.

"Henry's back," She told Van as he took off his shoes.

"Good. What happened?"

"I don't know yet."

The third message began.

"Hey, honey," Reba's tired voice said. "Henry's back. I'm sure you've heard, but I called in case you hadn't. Barbra Jean will probably want to tell you about it, so I won't. Tell Lizzie hi for me. Why dontcha bring her by tomorrow and we can have lunch? Talk to you then. Love you."

As soon as the message ended, Cheyenne dialed Barbra Jean's number.

"Hello?"

"Hey," Cheyenne said. "Sorry it's so late. I missed your call. I was watching a movie with Elizabeth and had my phone on silent."

"That's okay. I just wanted to tell you that Henry was back and that he's fine."

"Yeah. I got your message. What happened?"

"The police in the Ozarks found Darryl and Henry at a McDonald's. They took him into custody and brought Henry home."

"Oh, my gosh. Did he say why he did it?"

"I haven't talked to him yet, but Henry seems to be unscathed. He's sleeping now."

"Oh, that's good. At least he's okay. Do you need me to do anything, send anything?"

"No, no. I'm okay. But thanks for your support."

"Oh, you're welcome. We all love you and Henry."

"We love you all, too. Oh, wait. Someone's beeping in. Talk to you later?"

"Sure. Bye."

They hung up and oddly enough, those were the rest of the words Cheyenne spoke for the rest of the night.

Brock was on the phone with Barbra Jean while Reba fed Esme, trying to listen to the conversation. Which was proving to be difficult as she sat on the bed with Brock pacing up and down the hallway.

Mother and daughter yawned simultaneously, and Reba wished Brock would hurry up so she could put the baby down without fear of her waking up again. A half a second later, Brock came in the room.

"So, is he okay?" Reba asked as she maneuvered Esme to her shoulder to burp her.

"Yeah," Brock said as he set his phone down on his end-table. "He's okay."

"Thank God. Did you get to talk to him?"

"No, he was sleeping. But Barbra Jean and I were talking about something."

Reba placed Esme in the crook of her arm, beginning to rock her to sleep. "Oh, yeah?"

"We were thinking about letting him come here to live for a while."

Reba looked at him, eyes wide. "What?"

"We discussed having him come live here. Now it would only be temporary. We just don't think Henry needs to be around Darryl right now. Barbra Jean says he has a drinking problem and wants to help him through it."

"Why is she putting him before Henry? She hardly knows that guy!"

"I'm not going to try and figure out why she does what she does."

"But you decided this without even talking to me?"

"Reba, you have to understand-"

"No. I don't have to understand anything. I cannot believe this. I have a four-day-old baby to take care of. Not one minute goes by where she does not need something. I don't have time to tend to a six-year-old, too."

"You're not going to be doing it alone. I'm here."

"Not all day, you're not. You're at work until five or later everyday and Jake has school from eight to three and football practice until six."

"Henry's gonna be in school, too, during the day. You'll have seven hours to take care of the baby."

"Henry will come home at three, want a snack, need help with homework and all the while, Esme is screaming her head off. And let's face it, I'm going to be getting him up, getting him dressed, getting his breakfast, doing his laundry, cooking his dinner and getting him in bed."

"I'll be doing those things. He's my son."

"That's another thing, Brock. He's your son, not mine. I can't have him run wild around here and not listen to a thing I say."

"He's not a brat, Reba. And I don't even understand the problem. You took care of Jake when he was a baby while there were two other kids in the house."

"Because they were our children. This was supposed to be our time to get to know Esme and raise her. Just us."

"It still is our time, but I can't turn my son away. I miss him."

"But I don't want him here."

Brock stared at her, nostrils flaring.

"I'm sorry," She continued. "But I just don't. It's not like it was when he was just visiting for a week. He'll be living here. Broken families never work out. I'm not going to lose what I have here at home."

Brock stood. "He's coming.. I'm flying down tomorrow to get him. We're in this together or we're not together." He walked out of their room and slammed the door.

Reba shook her head and laid Esme in her bassinet. She the got under the covers, turned off the lamp and listened to Esme breathe, willing the tears from Brock's angry words not to fall.

She faintly wondered if she had made a mistake.

Several hours before, a man drove his stepson through the Arkansas Ozarks.

"Where are we?" Henry asked.

"We're in the town where I grew up," Darryl said as he drove his rusted green Ford along the dark, dirt road.

"Oh. Why?"

"Because you're growing up. Gonna be seven soon. I'm here to help you."

"Help me do what?"

Darryl turned the radio down. "Do you love your dad? Not me, your real dad. I know you love me."

"Yeah. I love him."

"Do you want him to be with your mom again?"

"Sometimes."

"Well, guess what."

"What?"

"I know a way you can get him back here."

"How?"

"Well, see, Henry, I wasn't supposed to bring you here tonight. Your mom will probably send the cops after me."

"The cops?"

"Yep. And when they find me, they'll take me to jail."

"Jail?"

"Jail. And you mom will probably send you to your dad. If everything goes as planned, that is."

"I'll get to see my dad?"

"Yep. And that redheaded wife of his. Do you like her for stealing your dad away from your mom?"

"I dunno."

"Well, you shouldn't like her. She's a bitch."

"What's that?"

"It means she's a bad person. But anyway, this is the part where you get your dad back. When you get up there, you are gonna make that redhead's life miserable."

"Her name's Reba."

"Whatever. You're gonna torment her. Don't do a thing she says, but when your dad's around, know what you're gonna do?"

"What?"

"You're gonna be nice as pie. Eventually, Red will tell your dad that you haven't been being nice but he won't believe her because you're his son. They'll get into a huge fight and your dad will go back to your mom. It's fool-proof."

"Wow. Really?"

"Really."

"Cool. But where will you be?"

"Oh, I'm not going anywhere. I'm always gonna be around." He pulled into a McDonald's parking lot and killed the engine. "When the cops come, don't get scared. They're gonna handcuff me and put me in a car. You tell them I kidnapped you and they'll take you home, okay?"

"Okay."

"Alright. Remember what I told you to do. You're a smart kid, Henry. You'll get your dad back."

Obviously, Darryl knew that Brock wouldn't go back to Barbra Jean in a million years, but he did know that Brock loved Reba and when she tells him about Henry's behavior, he's not going to believe her. They'll fight and Brock will leave with his heart shattered in pieces for losing the woman he loved for a second time. He knew their history and he could use that to his advantage. He wanted to get back at Brock for hurting Barbra Jean like he did. He was willing to serve jail time for the woman he loved so much. He just hoped Brock was more stupid and naive than he looked. He had to take the chance.

Reba rolled out of bed the next morning to find Brock's side of the bed empty. Esme was sleeping peacefully in her bassinet, her belly rising and falling with each breath she took. Carefully and quietly, Reba exited the room and walked downstairs and into the kitchen just in time to see Brock walking in through the back door.

Reba poured herself a cup of coffee as Brock tossed his keys onto the counter.

"Where were you?"

Brock picked up as stack of mail, avoiding her eyes. "I went for a drive."

"What for?"

"I needed to get out of the house for a little while."

"Is my presence just too much for you to bear?"

Brock rolled his eyes and dropped the mail. "Come on, Reba. I have a headache. Don't start with me."

"Don't start with you? I'm not a child. Don't talk to me like that."

"Well, stop picking fights."

"I'm not picking fights."

"Then what are you doing?"

"Standing up for what I believe in. I don't want your son coming here and destroying everything I've worked so hard to build."

"His name is Henry. His name isn't My Son."

"Well, he ain't my son."

"Since we've been married, he's been your stepson."

"So? I didn't carry him for nine months, I didn't give birth to him. He's not of me."

"Yeah, well, he's of me. You just have to learn to accept that."

Then he walked out of the room.

Reba sat down and drank her coffee, listening for Esme. She didn't have to learn anything. She was going to stand her ground. No matter what.

At around eleven o'clock, Cheyenne came over with Elizabeth and Kasey for lunch. Reba and Cheyenne were in the kitchen talking while Jake, who had nothing else to do, kept an eye on the kids

"So, Henry's coming here?" Cheyenne asked when Reba relayed the story to her. "For how long?"

"Who knows." Reba said as she prepared a salad. "But if it was up to me, he wouldn't be coming here at all."

"Why not?"

"Because he's gotten older. He understands divorce now. He's gonna think his daddy left his mama for me and I don't want a child who thinks that in my home. He's not gonna listen to a thing I say. He's gonna run wild and wreak havoc and there's not gonna be a darn thing done about it because he's the poor, sad, little boy who got kidnapped."

"Mom. Do you hear yourself?"

"Yes."

"It sounds terrible."

"It is terrible. And I don't know how to stop it."

"Why don't you just give it a try? For Henry and Dad."

Reba sighed. "I just have a feeling."

"Feelings change."

"So do people."

Brock walked in with an overnight bag slung over his shoulder. "I'm leaving. I'll be back tomorrow sometime."

He went over and kissed the top of Cheyenne's head. "Bye, Angel." He then looked at Reba with pleading eyes. "Bye, Reba."

"Bye."

Then he was gone.

Reba looked up at Cheyenne. "People change all the time."

To be continued...

After typing this out, I realize what a nutcase I made Darryl. Haha. Well, anyway...this next story is the last full-length story. The very last one is going to be a oneshot. We're almost done! D: But yeah. I hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving! Review? (: