Again, no idea how I got this chapter out so quickly. It was bugging me during class today, so while the teacher got distracted rambling on and on and on about his new phone, I wrote most of this. Next chapter is going to take a lot longer, because I have no idea where this is going to go now.

"We're filling for 'in loco parentis' custody," George told one of his lawyer friends that Wade couldn't quite remember the name of. "We have proof that Johann Starr's emotional health is suffering from his mother, Jeana Starr. This study and deduction of his emotional health was done by a doctor at Bellevue, Dr. Miller. My client is capable of caring for his cousin. They are family and are close. The child's father, Andreas Starr is dead as of January 21, 2011. He wasn't even notified by his mother that his father had died, nor that he was in the hospital. The child was sent to England by his mother so she wouldn't, and I quote, 'Have to deal with him.' There, the child has felt abandoned, and frequently expresses this to my client when they speak on the phone and through email. I have copies of these emails, provided by my client and the child at both of their consent."

Wade was glad he had a lawyer of a friend. He could hardly understand half of this mumbo-jumbo that George was rattlin' on about to his other lawyer friends, who would then ramble back some more lawyer talk. Lemon was in their hotel room, swearing that she had some sewing that she needed to catch up on. Quite frankly, Wade just thought she was probably sewing her wedding dress together and didn't want George to know.

Zoe told him she needed to deal with some of her 'family stuff'. Like the loving boyfriend he was, he nodded and wished her lucky. If her family was half as crazy as his, he could understand why she was sneaking around to do it. He wouldn't want to pull Zoe into his family problems either, if it weren't for the fact that she'd already been pulled into it.

"I think that went well," George mentioned to Wade on the way out of the law firm, "Don't you think?" Wade raised his eyebrow.

"I guess. You guys were just rattlin' off all sorts of stuff in that lawyer speak, I didn't know what was going on." His friend chuckled as the two men walked down the New York street. They were going to get lunch, then meet with another of George's lawyer friends. He didn't know where they'd go for this lunch, but he figured George had to know somewhere decent.

"Hi Bubbe," Zoe said to the old lady who opened the door, "How are you today?" Zonne de Jong smiled at her granddaughter.

"I'm well, especially now that I've seen my little gindele has returned from Alabama." Zoe blushed. She stepped aside, ushering the young doctor inside her home, "Come in, come in."

"If you could see Zeyde again, would you want to?" She asked her grandmother with those doe eyes. Her grandmother laughed softly, patting her granddaughter's hand.

"Of course I'd want to. I love him."

"More than…?" Zoe pressed her lips together, not sure of what to call her step-grandfather. It was the same way when she discovered that her tatte, her father, wasn't really her father.

"I loved him differently. Yes I loved him, but I loved your grandfather more." Zoe nodded.

"But Mom's not that old," Zonne insisted to her grandmother on the way home.

"We met again in the fifties for a short while. We went to Israel, to go to Jerusalem, and your grandfather had the same idea. He had helped many Jews escape the camp, even giving on his uniform the night before the Americans freed the camp, so that he could stay with me to make sure I was safe."

"Awww," Zonne giggled girlishly, "That's so sweet. It sounds like a book or a movie." Her grandmother laughed.

"Why go you ask me this, Gindele?" Zoe looked up to her grandmother.

"I'm trying to figure some things out." Zonne looked at her granddaughter.

"What sort of things?" she asked kindly.

"Wade told me he loves me, but after being with Zach for six years, I don't think I really know what love means." Zonne stood, walking across the room to an old, faded photograph.

"This is the only picture I have of my family before the war," she told Zoe, "The woman is the photo, my mother, was my father's third wife after the first two died. He loved the first with all his heart, he did not love the second, but the third, he loved her just as much as he loved the first. Now can you tell me why he loved the first and the third, but not the second?" Zoe shook her head. "They just weren't meant to be. They weren't compatible. You and Zach, you weren't compatible. Wade, from what I've heard from your mother and from you, and even from your father- oh don't give me that look. He's as much your father as my husband was your mother's. But from what I've heard about you and Wade, you better hold onto that boy. He sounds like a keeper."

Zoe nodded uncertainly. Zonne shook her head, putting the picture back on the mantle, stepping out of the parlor into the kitchen. Could the answer be so simple, that her and Wade were compatible where her and Zach weren't? Nothing was really that simple, was it?

She pulled out her wallet from her purse. Inside, she unwrapped the small package she kept inside, a pre-WWII locket. Inside, two aged photographs sat, one of her biological grandfather, one of her grandmother. It had been a trinket that her grandmother had given her before she started any serious competitions, working her way to the Olympics. The necklace was her biological grandfather's mother's. She needed to find him. She needed to know if he really did love her grandmother the way that her grandmother loved him.

She needed to know what it meant to be in love.

"Well, we have a pretty solid case," George told his friend, "By this time next month, you will be back in Bluebell, your cousin in school down there."

Wade sighed. "Is that Lemon on the ice skating rink?" he asked suddenly as they passed through Rockefeller center. His mama used to bring him here as a boy, but that had stopped once his grandmother disowned her. "Who's that guy she's with?"

George's head shot up, looking at the yellow-clad woman who was skating being held up by a man and another blonde woman. "I honestly have no idea. Let's go see." They moved over to watch from the side of the rink. When the trio circled by, Lemon pulled her arm from the man and waved frantically at George with the one arm.

"Look, George honey! I'm skating." She looked like a little kid, her hair a mess, her face flushed from the color, a large grin on her face, and her eyes a glow.

"That's nice, dear. Who are your friends?" She waved back to the man.

"That's Paul. He's a surgeon and a friend of Dr. Hart's. And this is his wife, Clara Mae. She's from Huntsville and lived next door to my aunt and uncle. We actually met before," the Belle said, motioning to the other blonde. George chuckled and Wade began whistling 'It's a Small World'.

"Hi, ya'll must be George and Wade," the woman Lemon introduced as Clara Mae said, holding out her hand to them. Both of the men shook her hand before she stepped back. "Now don't worry, Lemon and I are getting along wonderfully."

"So where is Zoe?" Wade asked the doctor and his wife. Both shrugged.

"We saw her a few days ago. I haven't been near any hospitals or doctors offices though; today's my day off." The bartender nodded. Where was his girlfriend?

"Wade!" a voice came, and he turned to see the tiny brunette coming towards them. She hugged him, giving him a kiss. "Sorry I didn't call. Lemon called me to tell me where she was. Neither of us wanted to both you two. We knew you had meetings all day." Wade nodded, meeting her lips half way as they kissed again.

"Get ready to tell me you love me," a cheery voice sang over the phone.

"You found something?" Zoe asked Viviana.

"Better," the gleeful girl crooned, "I found him! He lives right here in New York. Do you have a pen and paper and all? I can give you his number." Zoe told her to continue. "555-555-5555." The brunette doctor wrote that down, "And he goes by Henry now, so remember that." Zoe wrote 'Henry Krauser' on the top, "Wait, how do you know him anyways?"

"It's a long story," she told her friend, listening to the voices in the kitchen begin to die down as Wade and George's 'gather all the evidence we can' session seemed to be coming to an end. "Thank you, Vi. I owe you big for this."

Zoe breathed in deeply again. She was nervous, beyond nervous. She was meeting with an ex-Nazi - slash - anti-Nazi - slash - grandfather. He didn't know that her grandmother had his child. She was married at the time. Even if he did know she had a child, he'd probably think it was her step-grandfather's.

"Hi, Mr. Krauser?" Zoe asked the old man sitting on the bench. He looked up, studying her. She was obviously not what he had expected. She stuck out her hand. "I'm Zoe Hart."

"Yes, I realize that, Miss Hart," he said in a half-grouchy, half-curious tone, "Why am I here?"

"Because I made you curious," the doctor replied cockily, "Out of the blue, some girl you've never heard of calls you and asks to meet with you and you want to know why." The man who was her biological grandfather inhaled, obviously waiting for her to continue. "And it's Doctor Hart."

"Just because you're a medical student doesn't mean you're a doctor yet, Miss Hart." Zoe stared him down.

"I completed my residency three years ago at the New York Hospital. I was a surgeon there as well," she stated, "I'm a doctor. It's Doctor Hart." The man looked impressed at this.

"So then let's walk and you can tell me why you called me."

"It all goes back to a story my grandmother told me as a little girl. It's a story I come back to every time I want to know what love is." Henry Krauser motioned for her to continue. "My Bubbe was born in the Netherlands, in Amsterdam, in the later half of the nineteen twenties." Good, that's a good start, she thought, he knew that she was Jewish, or at least part. "She didn't come to America until the eighties, after my parents had moved here." He flinched. He obviously knew where this was going, or at least had an idea. He knew she was going to talk about the Holocaust. "It was always the same story. She got married to a man, even though she was in love with another."

"Why are you telling me this, Dr. Hart?" he asked exasperated, and Zoe pulled out the locket. He breathed in sharply at the sight of it.

"The woman on the right is my grandmother."

"May I?" he asked and she nodded. He took it into his hands, examining the locket, knowing that it was the very same one he had seen around his mother's neck every day, the same one he had given to Zonne Bakker over fifty years before. The lines engraved into the necklace were the same. He opened it with shaking hands. There was a picture of him on the left and picture on the right of Zonne Bakker. He had regretted letting her go the minute she had left, because he had loved her more than anything. Now, here was Zonne's granddaughter, Zoe, telling him that her grandmother had told her their story, that she used it as a basis of her idea of what love really is. And the girl before her, she was the spitting image of her grandmother. The same doe eyes, the same brown hair, even the same nose. It felt like it was killing him, crushing him, to see her now. There were some traces of whatever the other side of her family was, shown through her face shape for the most part. "Was it her dying wish for you to track me down or something?" he asked, still examining his mother's locket.

"My grandmother isn't dying. She's healthier than an ox, which is surprising, because she only eats foods that should have given her multiple heart attacks by now. In fact, she doesn't even know that I'm talking to you right now." This was also a shock to Henry. He heard the doctor take a sharp breath. "My mother was your daughter."

He looked up at her so quickly his neck could have broken. He didn't believe a word this girl was saying. How could it be possible? He thought back to the woman who had become his own wife, despite his love for Zonne, and their children. This girl, he could tell now, definitely did have certain things from him. The way her eyes flashed when she was angry, her passion, her nervousness and how she was wringing her hands in a way he remembered doing for a majority of his teenage years. "Zonne's alive?" he confirmed, and she nodded. "I want to see her." At this, Zoe hailed a cab.

It was certainly not every day that some girl who looks like an old love comes claiming she's really your granddaughter. In fact, he wasn't sure that ever really happened. It sounded like one of those sappy movies all those young people today liked to watch. It was too convenient; it had to be.

Still, as the girl lifted her hand and knocked on the brownstone door, he couldn't help but believe her just a bit. Every fiber in his body was saying not to believe it, but his heart was telling him this was the truth. As Zonne, though aged from the last he'd seen her, looked just like he'd remembered. Zonne gasped and invited him inside. Zoe kissed her grandmother's cheek, disappearing, saying something about meeting a lemon to get lunch for two different men, George and Wade.

And then they were alone for the first time in years and they began to talk, to tell the other what they missed. Henry glanced back towards the door that Zoe had disappeared out of, now learning that she had indeed been telling him the truth.

So Zoe's grandmother eating only things to give her a heart attack is based off of my great-grandpa (eggs and grits and bacon every day. vegetables? what are those? what's fruit?) And yes, I do think that Henry would think Zoe's talking about a lemon and not Lemon.

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