I pushed thru the next day, not feeling the greatest. I thought about going home, I really did, but I held back. I still had

to go by and tend to the horses at the vet office. Ivy wasn't due to be back until late. I'd eaten my snacks, and my lunch, but I just felt

off. Kenny and I were walking around the school grounds, after we finished lunch.

Kenny had to go check in with one of the teachers over a missing assignment, so he headed inside, just as Guthrie ambled

up to me.

"Want me to stop by the office to help with the horses again?" he offered.

"Yeah," I said.

"Okay," Guthrie said, and tossed his empty milk carton into a nearby trash can.

"Good shot," I said.

In the next instant, Guthrie was perusing me, his forehead wrinkled.

"You off?" he asked me.

Anybody overhearing would have thought he was insulting me.

"A little," I admitted. "How do you do that?"

Not answering my question of how he always knew I was feeling not so great, Guthrie demanded, "You need a candy bar?"

"I can get one," I told him. "If I have enough change with me."

Guthrie dug into the pocket of his jeans, and pulled out a crumpled dollar bill, holding it out to me.

When I didn't take it right away, he shook it at me. "Take it," he ordered.

"Bossy boots," I accused, taking the money.

As the bell began ringing, signalling everybody back to class, Guthrie said, "If you don't feel better, you oughta go home."

"Uh huh," I said.

As we parted ways inside, Guthrie said, "Get the candy bar. Be late to class if you need to."

"See you later," I said, in reply.

I did slip down to the auditorium to the vending machine, to buy a candy bar. So, then, I had to go get a tardy slip. Mrs.

Wilson can alternate between being kind and being severe on things.

Today, it appeared that she was in her severe mode.

"Why are you tardy, Harlie?" she asked me.

"I had to go downstairs to get a candy bar out of the machine," I explained.

At her raised eyebrow, I said, "I think my blood sugar is low."

She nodded, remembering then about my diabetes.

She scrawled out the tardy slip, and ended by saying, "Perhaps next time you can make better use of your lunch time, Harlie, and

get what you need before the bell rings."

I was vastly irritated by that. I really, really, wished I could smart off to her, or at least not answer her at all.

I settled for, "Okay," and headed to class.

She wasn't going to get a 'yes, ma'm' from me.

7

When I got home that afternoon, I found Clare plucking weeds from the flowers in front of the house.

She was on her knees, working away.

"Hi," I said, walking up to her with my backpack over my arm.

"Hi," she answered. She looked up at me. There were smudges of dirt across her face.

"How was your day?" she asked me.

"It was alright. How was yours?"

"Fine. I just needed to get outside for a bit," Clare said.

I surveyed the flower bed, colorful and, it looked like, nearly weed-free.

"It looks good," I said. "Hannah used to take care of it, but she hasn't been able to much this last year."

"Hannah barely has time for anything," Clare said.

"Yeah," I said, in agreement. I laid my things on the ground, and knelt beside her, watching as she worked.

She asked me about work at the vet office, and I saw the Jeep pulling up beside the barn.

"There's Brian," I announced.

Clare stopped what she was doing, and leaned back on her heels a bit, watching Brian as he walked towards

us. He had a look of concern as he approached.

"Hey, peach," he greeted me, but his eyes were only for Clare.

"I thought you were going to rest this afternoon," Brian was saying to her.

"I couldn't seem to settle," Clare said. "So, I thought I'd come outside and do something constructive."

"You know what the doctor said," Brian told her.

"I'll rest after a bit," Clare said.

"You did enough this morning," Brian said. "Come on." He leaned down to take hold of Clare's arm, helping her to

stand. Clare's not all that big yet, with her pregnancy, but she was showing now, and it's not so easy for her to get up and

down.

"Brian, don't fuss," Clare said, in protest, but she was still smiling at him. As though he was something special.

"I won't fuss if you don't argue," Brian said.

Clare linked her arm thru his, and they exchanged a look. It made me feel glad inside, watching them together.

7

That evening Guthrie and I were sitting in the living room, doing our homework, side by side on the couch. Supper had

been sparse with McFaddens. Adam and Brian had gone to a Cattlemen's meeting, that included supper. Daniel was at work, at his new job, and

Crane hadn't gotten home yet from his trip with Ivy. Evan and Nancy had gone somewhere with Nancy's father. So, it was

Hannah and Clare, Guthrie and I, and Jill at the table.

Jill picked at her meal, which was a simple one of tuna casserole, and salad. Adam nor Brian are neither one very fond of

tuna, so I figured we were having it since they weren't home.

"Do you not care for tuna?" Hannah asked Jill, as she poked at the tuna and noodles.

"It's fine," Jill said. "I'm just not very hungry, I guess."

Hannah nodded, and then asked about Daniel, and how he was liking his new job.

"He says he's getting used to it," Jill said. Then, in the next breath, she said, "I'm going to be picked up in the morning

by a friend of mine. I'll be gone for a couple of days."

We were all surprised into silence for a moment or so, and then Hannah said, "Is everything all right?"

"I just thought-with Daniel working so much-that it would be a good time for me to do some shopping, and have a

bit of a break," Jill said, carelessly.

Instantly, I felt my hackles rise. A break? A break from what? It never occurred to me about the other obvious question, until

Guthrie spoke up.

"Is your friend from Murphys?" he asked.

Of course. I didn't think she'd been here long enough to make a friend in town. So, who was this friend? Somebody we knew?"

"Oh, no, uh uh," Jill said, in response to Guthrie's question. "My friend's from Georgia."

Again, a shock. Or surprise. Guthrie and I exchanged a sidelong glance. Somebody was driving all the way to California from

Georgia? To visit Jill?

"Oh. And you're going to be gone overnight?" Hannah asked.

"Yes. We thought we'd go to Sacramento, and see the sights. And shop a bit, like I said," Jill said. She looked across the table

at Clare. "Do you need anything while I'm out and about at the baby stores? If so, I can get it for you."

"I don't think so, but thank you," Clare said. "Brian and I are still trying to decide on what all we're going to buy new for the baby, or

what we're going to try to find that's used."

I looked at Hannah, wondering what she was thinking of it all. After supper, Jill went off outside, saying she was going to sit

and hold Pepe. Her fascination with the skunk still puzzled me.

Clare went to bathe Isaac, and get him ready for bed. Guthrie and I were helping clear up the table, and to my surprise, it as

Guthrie who brought up the topic of Jill and her plans.

"Pretty rough," he said. "Daniel workin' long hours, and she's off to the city to go to a mall."

"Yeah," I echoed, in agreement.

"She's entitled to do something in her free time if she wants to," Hannah pointed out.

"All she has is free time," I muttered.

"Be kind," Hannah said. I thought to me, but she looked at Guthrie, too, as she wiped the table with a dishcloth. "Both of you."

"Don't you ever get fed up?" I asked. "I mean-with everything."

"Of course I do," she said.

Guthrie and I exchanged a glance, as he kept on washing the dishes, and I dried them.

"You sure don't show it," I said.

"You don't want me ranting and raving around here, do you?" Hannah pointed out, with humor in her eyes.

"No," I said.

"Nope," Guthrie said.

"Well, and I don't think that Adam would like it, if I did, either," Hannah said, still looking amused.

"I think she's taking advantage," I said. "Of Daniel, for sure, and of you, too."

"Yep. Agree," Guthrie said.

Hannah paused in her task of wiping the cabinets, and turned serious, taking Guthrie and I into her blue gaze.

"I don't want to see Daniel taken advantage of, any more than you two do," Hannah said. "All we can do about that, though,

is support him, and hope for the best. As far as I go, you're both sweet to worry over me. But, it's not necessary."

"You're too nice, Hannah," Guthrie said, in a definite way.

"Oh, is that a thing?" Hannah asked. "Being too nice?" She reached out and rubbed Guthrie's hair.

"He just means that we don't want anybody walking all over you," I said.

"Nobody is walking on me. Nobody is taking advantage," Hannah insisted.

"Anybody home?" came a call from the front door, along with the thud of a bag being set on the floor.

"Crane's home," I said, and the three of us went to greet him.

We talked to him for awhile, with Hannah asking him if he'd eaten yet, and I asked him how Ivy's father was

doing. After that we sat around the living room, the four of us talking, and Clare came down to join us, toting Isaac with her.

And, then, Jill returned, from the barn and her visit with Pepe.

I was sitting next to Crane, doing my homework, and listening to all the conversation, when Jill sat down across from

us, on the other sofa.

I had the sudden thought of wondering if the 'friend' that Jill was meeting was a female or a male. If she was meeting another

guy, that wasn't right.

Into a lull of the conversation, I asked, quietly, "What's your friend's name?"

Jill was sipping at a soda, and she said, "Chris. Chris Weston."

Okay, was she serious? Chris. That could be either female or male. I felt stymied.

"Have you been friends for a long time?" I went on.

"Oh, gosh, Chris and I have been friends forever, it seems like," Jill said, and then announced she was starving, and

went off to the kitchen.

"Bat shit," I muttered.

Crane, at my left elbow, said, mildly, "Harlie," in censure.

"She's going out of town tomorrow for overnight with a friend," I told him, lowering my voice.

"Not your business," Crane told me.

"Aren't you even a little curious?" I asked him.

"No. And you shouldn't be, either."

"What if it's another guy, though?" I asked him, softly.

Crane turned from his writing in a notebook that he'd been doing, and looked at me.

"You don't know that," he said.

I whispered now, "But, Chris? It could be."

Crane reached out, and tapped my open trigonometry book.

"Homework, Harlie," he said.

7