A/N: I must thank my wonderful betas Catsluver and sallyloveslinus for all their hard work. They are awesome!

Also, thanks to everyone who reviewed as guests. You're fabulous!

Chapter 17

TJ slipped into her regular place at the supper table, defiantly ignoring the admonishing looks from Vern and Fern. She was still furious with her mother for siding with Sam and banning Jeremy from the house.

She noticed the twins in little bouncers near the breakfast bar that separated the kitchen from the dining table. They seemed content staring at the bright-colored shapes suspended over them, like the toys were the most fascinating things they'd ever seen. They both had on onesies with matching booties, and TJ almost smiled at them before she caught herself.

Her hair was still wet from her second shower, and she felt a cold drop of water drip onto her shoulder. She used the collar of the top she was wearing to wipe it away. Maybe she'd been a little worried about being late for supper because she hadn't taken the time to towel-dry her hair very well, let alone use a hairdryer.

Sam was sitting across from her. She could feel his eyes on her but refused to acknowledge his presence. "Daddy, could you pass the green beans, please?" she asked sweetly.

Vern looked none too happy. "We been waitin' for you. We hadn't said the prayer yet."

"Oh," she said with an overly polite smile. "Okay, then." She clasped her hands together and put them to her forehead in a prayer pose, bowing her head.

There was an uncomfortable silence. TJ knew her parents were expecting an apology, but she wasn't about to give one.

Finally, Vern started the prayer. "Dear Heavenly Father, thank you for all the blessings you've given us. Thank you especially for Robby and Sami Joy, for all the happiness and love they bring, and thank you, Dear Lord, that they are healthy. Please continue to help them grow, develop, and thrive. And today, Dear Lord, we thank you so much for the miracle of having TJ back home with us." Vern's voice faltered, and he paused, obviously having difficulty controlling his emotions.

TJ stole a look at him, stunned. She'd never seen her dad cry, except at Mamaw's funeral. In that moment, she realized how hard and painful this whole situation must be for her parents, how worried they must have been when she was in the coma, and she felt selfish.

Vern drew in a breath, collected himself, and moved on. "Thank you, Lord, for providing our daily bread, and please bless this food for the use of our bodies. In Jesus' name, amen."

There was a pause before everyone echoed, "Amen," as they all reflected on the simple words of the prayer and Vern's much more profound emotion. Then they started passing dishes around and filling their plates.

TJ felt even more selfish and guilty when she saw that her mother had made all of her favorites—chicken-fried steak with cream gravy, fresh green beans from the garden cooked with bacon, homemade mashed potatoes, and fresh-baked dinner rolls that TJ knew would still be warm from the oven.

For the first time in weeks, TJ's stomach growled in actual hunger, and her mouth began to water. She cut into her steak, and the first bite was heavenly. Before she knew it, she had scarfed down half of it. She told herself to slow down, that she was eating too many calories. She didn't want to gain all her weight back.

"How does it taste, hon?" her mother asked. There was a hopeful look on Fern's face.

TJ couldn't stay mad at her mother and felt contrite. A part of TJ knew that Fern was right, that her life was different whether she liked it or not—although it still hurt that her mother had sided with Sam. "It's delicious, Mama. Thank you, you know, for making my favorites."

Her mother smiled, and TJ knew she was likewise forgiven for her earlier behavior.

"For dessert, we've got the cake Aunt Joyce made. It's also your favorite—chocolate with cream-cheese icing."

"Great," said TJ, eyeing the food she still had left on her plate. She'd already eaten too much. She shouldn't eat any cake.

"So, Sam," said Vern, "I noticed you been busy on that laptop of yours."

Ferna Sue smiled. "Now, there's an understatement. He's been burnin' the midnight oil."

"You got more new clients?" asked Vern. He stuffed some mashed potatoes in his mouth.

Sam paused, fork in his hand, about to spear a green bean. He held the fork with his long, tan fingers and was surprisingly graceful—if anyone could be called graceful for holding a fork.

TJ felt an odd flush of heat ripple through her and quickly looked down at her plate, concentrating on a speck of pepper in her cream gravy.

"Yes," Sam answered. "I've still got most of my clients from California, and I've taken on a few jobs for some of the local attorneys around Tucker County."

"That's great, hon," said Fern. "I wonder if we know any of them."

"I don't know. You probably know Wyman Trammell, since he's from Moss Fork."

Vern snorted. "Oh, yeah. We know Wyman. He's the town drunk. I'm surprised he ain't been disbarred."

Sam shrugged. "He's a smart guy. But, yeah. I have to catch him before noon if I need to talk to him about anything serious."

"I bet," said Vern dryly.

TJ was wondering what they were talking about, but she didn't want to wonder. She didn't want to be interested in anything having to do with Sam—or his graceful fingers.

Fern reached out and put a hand on TJ's arm. "You probably don't know what we're talking about; do you, sugar?" she asked gently.

TJ shrugged, noncommittal.

"Sam is a freelance paralegal," Fern explained. "He files things in courts electronically, researches, and writes briefs for his clients." She looked to Sam for confirmation. "Did I get that right?"

"Yes," said Sam. "That's most of it."

For the first time, TJ looked directly at him. "That's great," she said, making an effort to be civil. "It's great that you found something you're able to do."

Fern and Vern both stiffened and glanced nervously at Sam, and TJ knew she'd said something wrong.

Sam didn't seem bothered by it, whatever it was. TJ got a glimpse of white teeth and dimples before he pressed his lips together, trying unsuccessfully to suppress a smile. "Uh, yeah. There's actually a lot of things I'm able to do, TJ."

It dawned on her that what she'd said to him was maybe a little insulting and sort of patronizing, and she felt herself blush, embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

"It's okay." His gaze was sincere. "Really." He ate a few green beans nonchalantly like he wasn't giving the topic another thought.

TJ was grudgingly grateful to him for letting her off the hook and not making a big deal about it. Still, she felt so awkward around him. She'd always heard handicapped people just wanted to be treated like everyone else, but she felt like she constantly had to watch what she said.

He chewed his mouthful and swallowed. "Everything is delicious, Ferna Sue—as always."

"Why, thanks, sugar," Fern simpered. "I know it's not as healthy as you normally eat."

He shrugged and tossed a meaningful look at TJ. "It's a special occasion."

Fern's eyes welled up and she swallowed, pressing her napkin to her mouth. It was apparently her turn to get choked up about TJ's homecoming.

TJ wasn't used to her parents displaying so much emotion, and she found it humbling. The baby boy started to cry, and she was relieved when Fern turned in her chair to look at him, taking her attention away from TJ.

"Goodness, Robby," crooned Fern, "what's the matter?"

The baby turned red and got madder.

Fern made a move to get out of her seat, but Sam laid a hand on her arm and stopped her. "I'll get him. You finish your dinner. I'm almost done."

"Supper," Vern corrected, a teasing light in his eye. "It's 'breakfast,' 'dinner,' and 'supper.' There ain't no such thing as 'lunch' in Tucker County."

"Right," said Sam with an amused curve to his mouth. "One of these days I'll get it right. Excuse me," he said politely, folding his napkin and setting it on the table next to his plate.

He backed away, wheeled over to the baby, and leaned forward, using both hands to unhook the harness that kept the baby secure in the bouncer. Then he pressed his hands on his thighs and pushed himself back into a sitting position, grabbed onto one of his wheels, and leaned over again.

TJ realized he must be using the wheel as leverage and wondered why. Could he not get back up when he leaned over?

In a deft move, he scooped the squalling baby out of the bouncer with one hand and cradled him in the crook of his arm.

TJ's eyes widened, afraid the baby's head needed to be supported, but the baby didn't seem to be at all fazed by the unusual maneuver and held his head steady.

Sam pulled himself into a sitting position with his hand that was on the wheel and then lifted the baby to his nose. He grimaced. "Ugh. No wonder you're so ticked."

Actually, the baby was already starting to calm down. His crying was tapering off into more of what sounded like little hiccups, like he knew that his giant of a daddy had come to the rescue. The little whimpering noises the baby made, his little rounded bottom, and the way he looked so small in Sam's large hands caused TJ's body to react, and she had the strong urge to hold the infant. It scared her, and she looked away. She didn't want to admire the loving and very capable way Sam handled his son, and she didn't want to have feelings for the baby. She wasn't ready to be a mother, to have that overwhelming and daunting responsibility.

Sam held the baby to his shoulder with one hand and wheeled to the doorway of the adjoining dining room/nursery with his other hand. When he started to veer off course, he would quickly switch hands, always holding the baby safely, and wheel with whichever hand was free. He was almost as efficient pushing his chair one-handed as he was with two. When he reached the threshold to the dining room, he pushed off of the doorjamb and coasted into the room and out of sight.

The baby girl, who was still in her bouncer, let out a little cry, but it didn't sound as angry or as persistent as her brother's.

Fern was in the process of eating a bite of mashed potatoes. She quickly chewed, folded her napkin, and got up to get the little girl. Once the baby was out of her harness, Fern held her up and smelled, much the same way Sam had with the boy. "No. I don't smell anything."

The baby kicked her little legs.

Fern lay the baby back in the bouncer, unsnapped the bottom of the pink onesie, and opened one side of the baby's diaper. "Not wet," said she said, shaking her head. She fastened everything back up again and lifted the baby, this time nuzzling the baby's cheek and giving her a series of little kisses.

The baby gave a gummy smile and made a gurgling sound that was close to a giggle.

Fern laughed. "You just don't wanna be left out; do you, Sami Joy?"

TJ cringed inwardly. There was no way she would have ever agreed to that name, and she wondered who came up with it. For some reason, she couldn't see Sam doing it. It was a country-sounding name, and he seemed more citified than that.

Fern sat back down at the table and held the baby facing outward in her lap while she finished eating. The baby seemed content to peruse her new surroundings until she saw TJ, and then she stared, her little head bobbing and jerking every once in a while. TJ watched her.

Fern took a drink of her iced tea and then slanted a look at TJ. "She's fascinated by you, hon. You wanna hold her?"

TJ tore her eyes from the baby and focused on her plate, shaking her head. "I'm not done eating." It was a lame excuse, since Fern was holding the baby even though she wasn't finished either.

Fern huffed affably. "Oh, Lord. Neither Sam nor I have made it through a whole meal without getting interrupted by the babies since we brought them home from the hospital."

TJ half-shrugged and sawed at her chicken-fried steak, intimating she needed two hands for the knife and fork. Of course, the steak was so tender it was like slicing through butter and could have been done with just the fork, but she was determined not to hold that baby come hell or high water.

Fern pursed her mouth in disapproval but didn't push it. TJ knew it was a temporary reprieve.

A few minutes later, Sam came rolling in with the boy and resumed his place at the table, holding the baby in his lap in a similar fashion to Fern. He cast a tentative smile at TJ. "The joys of parenthood. That was...gross."

Fern and Vern chuckled knowingly, but TJ gave Sam a look of disgust. She didn't want to talk about baby poop at the supper table.

Sam held her eyes for a moment, a tick in his jaw, but then he picked up his fork and stabbed at his mashed potatoes.

She felt a twinge of guilt for being bitchy but did nothing to rectify it. She went back to her steak, cutting another bite and almost wincing at the number of calories she was ingesting.

More small talk was made—TJ not contributing—until everyone was finished eating. Fern got up and handed the baby girl to Vern and started clearing dishes from the table. "Time for cake, y'all."

TJ looked at her plate. She'd eaten almost every bit of her steak but only half of her mashed potatoes and green beans. She was proud of herself for only taking one bite of her dinner roll, although she could have easily eaten the entire basket of them. "I'll help clear," she said, and folded her napkin onto the table.

She stood and started grabbing the dirty dishes, trying not to notice Sam's broad shoulders and long, thick, soft-looking brown hair as she reached over him to get his plate.

He looked up at her. There was a rustic light fixture hanging over the table, and his eyes caught the glow from it. They were actually hazel in color instead of brown like she'd thought—not that she really cared—but they were kind of nice to look at, if you liked that sort of thing. She, of course, was partial to gray eyes.

"Thank you," he said.

Lord, he was so polite. All she was doing was taking away his dirty plate. She was inexplicably flustered and cleared her throat. "You're welcome," she muttered.

As she cleared her dad's plate, Vern tickled the baby girl's belly. The baby kicked her legs in delight and gurgled. Vern laughed and held her up for a kiss on her cheek. TJ imagined that was how he probably was with her when she was a baby, and she couldn't help but be touched by it. She let a small smile escape her.

She took the stacked plates into the kitchen and put them in one side of the deep, old, porcelain sink. She glanced over and saw that her mother was cutting pieces of cake and putting them on small plates. "I'm full, Mama. Don't cut me a piece."

"Oh, you got room for a little. You didn't even eat that much supper."

Here we go, thought TJ. "Really, Mama. I can't eat another bite."

"You're skin and bones, sugar. We need to get some meat on you."

That was the last thing TJ wanted. "I guess my appetite still isn't up to snuff."

Fern got a clean fork from the silverware drawer and forked a section of cake, then held it out for TJ. "Just take a bite."

TJ was getting irritated. "Mama—"

"Just a bite," said Fern, jabbing the fork under TJ's nose. "That's all I'm askin'."

TJ huffed in resignation and opened her mouth. It was just one bite, right? Fern stuck the bite of cake in TJ's mouth, and TJ almost moaned in ecstasy. Aunt Joyce was renowned throughout the county for her cakes. There was nothing fancy about this one—it was just chocolate with cream-cheese icing—but it was heavenly. TJ had to call on every ounce of willpower from every nook and cranny of her body to drum up a refusal. "It's good, but I'm full."

Fern narrowed her eyes and studied TJ. It made TJ uneasy, so she busied herself with washing the dishes. "Y'all go ahead and eat," TJ urged. "I'll do the dishes."

Fern shook her head stubbornly. "No, ma'am. You can come sit with us until everyone eats their cake. I won't be able to enjoy mine if I hear you in here doin' the dishes by yourself."

"I don't mind, Mama."

"Come sit with us, TJ. The dishes'll keep." Fern reached up and put a gentle hand on TJ's cheek. "You were gone for so long. I want you next to me at the table. I want to enjoy the fact that you're here."

TJ couldn't say no to the look on her mother's face and nodded reluctantly.

When they returned to the table, Fern walked over and held out her hands to take the baby girl from Vern.

He looked like he might protest but then thought better of it. It was obvious Fern just wanted to hold the baby.

Fern looked a bit sheepish. "I'll take her so you can eat your cake in peace, Pappy."

Pappy? The name surprised TJ, and she couldn't picture her mom being called Mamaw. "What will the twins call you, Mama?"

Fern held the baby girl facing outward and took her seat. "Grammy," she answered. "I don't feel like a mamaw."

TJ nodded and stared at her glass of tea, not wanting to seem too interested in the subject. There was always the threat that someone might try to get her to hold one of the twins if she showed too much curiosity.

Sam was quiet, but TJ could feel him studying her. It made her feel restless.

A piece of cake was in front of everyone except TJ. There were a few moments of silence as everyone took a bite, followed by oohs and ahs over how good the cake was.

TJ took a drink of the tea in her glass, appreciating the sweetness of it as it slid down her throat, pretending that it was an adequate substitute for a piece of cake. "So, um," she began, "how far did y'all say I got in grad school? Molecular biology, right?" When she'd graduated high school, she wasn't sure whether she would go the biology route or the chemistry route.

Her parents and Sam looked at one another, none of them jumping at the chance to answer. Finally, Fern spoke. "You completed a year and a half of the molecular biology program. You got through the fall semester of your second year of grad school, even though you had to take your finals while you were in the hospital. You did real good on them, despite what you were going through with the bed rest and all."

"And I finished undergrad in four years?"

Vern looked proud. "Yep. You did it in four years and held down a waitressing job to boot. You graduated with honors, even though you had a tough senior year."

TJ contemplated his use of the word "tough" and felt heat rise up her neck when she realized he was referring to the bulimia—the bulimia that Sam had helped her deal with. Maybe that's how he got her to fall in love with him. She'd been vulnerable, not herself. Maybe she latched onto anyone who showed her kindness. A slow, molten anger started to simmer within her. All the hard work she must have put into school—gone. It was so unfair. She skewered Sam with a look. "And it's all gone now because you got me pregnant?"

As if to reiterate her point, the baby boy on Sam's lap made a mewling noise and started chewing on his fist, reminding TJ that his very existence was the reason her life was in ruins.

Sam's brow furrowed and there was hurt in his eyes. "TJ, we—" He glanced at Fern and Vern, coloring a bit. "We're not talking about a one-night stand here. We loved each other. We were engaged."

She clenched her jaw and closed her eyes for a second, trying to keep the anger still smoldering inside her from igniting. God, it was all so maddening, all the lost hours of study, all the money her parents must have spent helping her through school. She had a scholarship, but that just covered tuition and books—or at least, it was supposed to. The logical part of her knew that none of this was really Sam's fault, but the emotional part of her wanted someone to blame.

She stood abruptly and grabbed her tea glass. "I'm gonna start washing the dishes." She walked into the kitchen, not giving her mother a chance to protest.

A few minutes later, TJ was cleaning the dishes with an angry zeal like never before—at least, that she could remember—scornful that her mom had refused to ever buy a dishwasher. TJ heard Vern say that he would clear the cake dishes from the table so Sam and Fern could take care of the babies, who apparently needed to be fed again and bathed for the night.

The fact that Vern offered to clear the table was something new. He had never been known to be very helpful when it came to what he thought was woman's work. It wasn't that he was a chauvinist. It was just how things were done in the hills of Kentucky and how they'd always been done. Men and women had their specific roles, and they stuck to them. It wasn't like her mom wanted to go out and plow the fields all day.

Vern brought in three plates of half-eaten cake, and TJ wondered if she had ruined everyone's dessert with her comment to Sam. Well, so what if she had.

To her surprise, after Vern brought in all the plates and glasses from the table, he started drying the dishes she'd finished washing. Apparently, wonders never ceased.

"You know," he said, eyes on the plate he was now polishing to an unnecessary shine, "I know none of this is fair, but you ain't the only one who's lost out in all of this."

"Spare me. I'm not in the mood to hear about what a horrible, selfish person I am and what a wonderful person Sam is."

Vern pinned her with intense blue eyes. "Well, I think you do need to hear it."

She bristled and started scrubbing the mashed potato pan.

"You weren't the only one who was in school, TJ. Sam was in law school."

"Good for him," she said sarcastically, still scrubbing.

Vern put a hand on her arm, stopping her motion and commanding her attention. "He was in law school at Berkeley. I don't think I have to tell you it's one of the top law schools in the country. He had a full ride on a scholarship, but he only finished his first semester. He left because of you and the twins."

That made her reel, but she tried not to let it show. "Well, I guess that makes us even, then." She rinsed the pot, set it in the clean side of the sink, and started another.

"He's up to his eyeballs in debt—"

"Well," she interrupted, "like I said before, it's great that he's able to work."

Vern tilted his head and his mouth twisted cynically. "Yes, it is good that he's able to work to pay all of your damn medical bills, along with what the twins racked up in the NICU."

That stopped her cold. She hadn't even thought about any of that and no one had ever mentioned it to her. In the back of her mind, she'd just assumed her parents were paying for whatever insurance might not cover.

"He don't let us or his brother Dean help with none of it, even though we've offered." Vern shook his head in admiration. "Sam's got more than his share of stubborn pride. It'll probably take him years to pay it all off, but I have no doubt he'll do it."

She spoke with sarcasm again to hide the peculiar emotion she was feeling. "Sounds like he's a regular hero."

This time her dad grabbed her arm and turned her toward him. "He is a hero, girl, more than you could ever conjure up in your wildest dreams."

"What are you talking about?" she hissed. "What happened to him, Daddy? Why is he in that wheelchair?"

Her dad let go of her arm. "You need to talk about that with him."

She made a noise of frustration and threw up her hands, flinging suds everywhere. "What's the big secret? Why won't anyone tell me?"

"Ask Sam," stated Vern. His tone made it clear he wouldn't be the one that told her. "And cut him some damn slack. He's given up everything for you, including his brother back in San Diego, the only family he's got left besides us. He moved to a strange place he'd never even seen before because he wanted to do what was best for you and the twins. 'Sacrifice' is Sam's middle name, so why don't you get off your high horse before you knock your head on a tree limb?"

She tilted her head and jutted her chin out, lips pressed together, racking her brain for a suitable comeback. But, to her annoyance, she couldn't think of anything to say.

XXXXXXXX

TJ lay in her bed, ignoring the scratching and whimpering of Sam's freaky dog outside her bedroom door. The dog obviously remembered her, even if she didn't remember him. She wanted nothing to do with him. She wanted Elliott. Her throat tightened in that way that signaled the threat of tears, and she tried to push memories of Elliott away.

The whole day had been an emotional roller-coaster—first coming home to find out that her uncle was dying and that Elliott was dead, and then discovering the scars on her body and the embarrassing revelation that she'd had an eating disorder. She felt drained and was tired of crying.

She heard Sam call Rocket away and then heard Sam's bedroom door shut. Several minutes later, she could hear him in the bathroom, which was next door to her room and across the hall from his. He brushed his teeth and then used the toilet, and she was embarrassed that she could hear everything he was doing.

The walls were thin in the old house she'd grown up in, and she realized Sam would, likewise, be able to hear everything she did. God, she was going to have major stage fright every time she went to pee now, and she didn't even want to think about going number two. Sharing a bathroom with him was an invasion of her privacy, however unintentional. She supposed it was for him, too, but she wasn't in the mood to feel any charity toward him.

It was late, almost eleven. She was tired but couldn't sleep. Vern's words about Sam kept tumbling around in her head, no matter how much she tried to think of something—or someone—else. What had Vern meant when he said that Sam was a hero? Vern had sounded like he meant it literally. Did it have something to do with how Sam became handicapped? She was dying to know, despite her professed indifference toward him.

Maybe he was hurt in Iraq or Afghanistan or something, but no one had ever mentioned anything like that. She got the impression he hadn't been in the military—not with that long hair of his, although she supposed he could have grown it out.

His hair. Mercy. She knew what it smelled like, thanks to being assaulted by his shampoo. The memory of it made her feel antsy and tied her stomach in a knot.

Maybe he'd been a cop or an FBI agent or something and had gotten hurt doing that. Maybe that's why he waited to go to law school. She didn't know how old he was exactly, but he seemed older than she was. And, as they all knew, she was about to turn twenty-five. The number mocked her, and she winced and put her hands over her ears to make it stop echoing in her head.

If Sam had been a soldier or a cop, she didn't see what the big secret was, why Fern or Vern couldn't just tell her what happened to him. Of course, knowing her parents, they were probably being deliberately mysterious in order to make TJ curious enough to have an actual conversation with Sam. The fact that he had shown up by himself to pick up TJ from the hospital was suspicious, too. There was no way her parents would not have come with him unless they had some ulterior motive, and she could spot her parents' plotting a mile away. It was no secret they were rooting for Sam. She would have to be on her toes if she didn't want to find herself thrown together with him every second of the day.

She could see why they liked him, if she were honest with herself. For one thing, he was obviously smart and had a lot going for him if he'd gotten a full ride to Berkeley. She wondered if he would be able to go back there if she divorced him. She hoped he would. After all, she had no ill will toward him. She didn't begrudge him success, especially since he was handicapped.

For another thing, he was polite, respectful, and so good with the twins. He didn't seem like the type to lose his temper, although she hadn't been around him enough to really know that. It was just a feeling she had from what she had observed and the way he kept such a tight leash on his emotions. She knew she'd pushed his buttons a few times, although it wasn't intentional (well, mostly it wasn't). She thought back to when she kissed Jeremy in front of Sam and felt a pang of remorse. She probably shouldn't have done that, even it had been innocent—sort of.

She supposed if she had to get stuck married to a complete stranger, she could have done worse than Sam. Not for the first time, she felt bad that he was a victim in this whole mess, too.

"I still love you—more than you'll ever know. I'll never stop loving you."

His words haunted her. She shouldn't care, but no matter how much she didn't want them to, they had touched something deep inside her. He knew how to get under her skin. She'd give him that.

There was a noise that sounded like a faint knock on her window. She thought she had imagined it, but then she heard it again. She got out of bed, cringing as her bare feet hit the cool hardwood floor, and went over to the window. She made a gap in the blinds with her fingers and looked out to see Jeremy looking back at her with a big grin on his face.

She grinned back, elated to see him. She slowly pulled the strings to raise the blinds, careful not to make too much noise in case it might echo through the silent house—or at least to where Sam slept. Moonlight flooded into her room, and she saw that there was a full moon.

"Jeremy?" she whispered. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought you might need someone to talk to." His voice was hushed but still too loud.

"Shh," she said, putting her finger to her lips. "Hold on a sec." She was wearing pajama pants and a plain T-shirt and could feel a slight chill from the night air breezing through the window. She opened her closet and found a blue sweater that was completely unfamiliar to her. It fit her, though, albeit loosely, so she knew it had to be hers. Next, she threw on a pair of ballet flats that looked like they'd seen better days. The outfit left a lot to be desired, but it would have to do. Besides, she could barely see what she was doing in the dimly-lit room.

She walked back to the window. "Can you take off the screen without tearing it up?" she whispered to Jeremy.

He nodded. Within a few minutes, he had pried the screen off, and TJ was crawling through the window. He immediately embraced her once she was standing in front of him, and she relished the warmth of his body. She was a tad taller than he was, but that didn't matter. She was taller than just about everybody.

He smelled kind of odd. The scent of him was sweet and cloying, and his eyes were hooded. He gave her a crooked, charming smile. "You up for takin' a walk?" he drawled.

"Sure."

He replaced the screen on her window, then took her hand and led the way. His house was two miles from hers by car, but there was a shortcut past the pond on her family's property that cut the distance in half, and Jeremy headed in that direction.

Her heart started to speed up as they neared the pond, and the exhilaration of being with Jeremy made her forget the fatigue and weakness of her body. The setting was exactly as she remembered—the full moon reflecting off the still water, the cacophony of crickets and katydids, a few of her dad's cows keeping them company. Only the fact that they had to watch out for cow pies brought her back to reality and took some of the romance out of it. She was glad of the moonlight that lit their way. She could think of few things grosser than stepping in cow manure.

Jeremy paused near the edge of the pond, crouched down, and made a ripple in the silvery water with his hand. The color of the water reminded TJ of his eyes. He stood up and gave her a devilish grin. "Wanna tip some cows?"

She rolled her eyes. "You know that's a bunch of BS." He was referring to the myth that, since cows slept while standing, you could tip them over with a small push if they were asleep.

He laughed. "Cow skiing?"

"What?"

"Supposedly, when it's real muddy, you grab the cow's tail and then scare it. It takes off, pulling you behind it like you was water skiing."

"I think that's even dumber than cow-tipping." She grimaced. "What if the cow started poopin' while you were holding onto its tail?"

He grimaced in return. "Yeah. You're right. Those city kids I went to school with in Lexington thought you could really do that shit. We all got drunk one night, and they wanted me to bring them to the farm to try it."

She snorted. "I hope you didn't."

"Hell, no. Too much liability. I didn't wanna get my ass sued if one of 'em broke their tail."

"Do you miss it? School, I mean?"

"Yeah," he said softly. "It was the best time of my life. You got all the freedom of an adult but not really any of the responsibility." His mouth tightened. "Real life ain't all it's cracked up to be."

"Tell me about it," she agreed wryly. "Try waking up with a husband and two newborns. I bypassed all the fun of college and went straight to the ball and chain."

He reached out and traced her jaw with his thumb. "I'm sorry, Nelly."

She was suddenly acutely aware of where they were, of the significance of it, and of the intensity in his eyes. For a moment, her heart stopped, and she thought he might kiss her, but he broke the spell and took her hand instead. "Come on. Let's go to my house."

She was a little disappointed he didn't kiss her but tried not to let it show. "Sure. Will Aunt Liv be awake?"

His features sobered. "No. I wouldn't have left her alone if she was."

By the time they made it to the gorgeous old two-story farmhouse that was Jeremy's home, TJ was exhausted, despite the happiness she felt at being with him. Her body wasn't up to mile-long walks in the moonlight yet. They sneaked in the back door of the kitchen, careful not to wake Liv.

Jeremy still held her hand and it felt kind of clammy, but she didn't want to let go. He led her to the parlor, which actually had more of the cozy feel of a den. Jeremy had obviously converted it to his domain, and there were music magazines scattered everywhere and a new-looking computer with the biggest flat-screen monitor TJ had ever seen.

"Wow, nice setup," she said.

He was sitting at the desk, pulling up something on his computer, and he turned to look at her. "Say again?"

She nodded toward the computer. "I've never seen a monitor that fancy."

He looked puzzled and then smiled. "This is how a lot of people do it now, Nelly. I suspect technology has changed a lot in the past six years."

She huffed. "Yeah, I guess. I'm still stuck in the Dark Ages."

He frowned. "So, even stuff like technology you don't remember?"

"Some of it I do. I remember how to work my cell phone. I remember how to drive my car. Of course, I knew how to do all that before the stroke. It's weird. Most of the not-so-important things I remember. Even some of that has been affected, though. I couldn't remember how to button my jeans or my shirt the first time the therapist helped me get dressed, and that's something I've been doing my whole life. I was at a complete loss. She had to show me how."

His brows went up. "Whoa. That's freaky."

"You're tellin' me."

He shook his head in sympathy and turned back to his computer, clicking on something. Music started playing softly from small speakers on either side of the monitor. Once he got the music going, he came and sat down beside her on the overstuffed leather sofa where she was sitting. His gray eyes were red-rimmed. She hadn't really been able to see them in the dimness of the moonlight and wondered why they were so irritated.

"That song is by a band that I just discovered my last trip to Lexington. I go there some on weekends to check out new bands. Sometimes I even fly places like New York if there's a band I want to see; that is, if I can get Mama's carer to stay overnight with her. I write about the bands in my blog."

"You write a blog?"

"Yeah. It's about indie bands and obscure alternative stuff. Some old, some new. I've been getting a lot of hits on it, but it's just a hobby. Not like I could make a career of it." Bitterness crept into his tone.

"Why don't you just sell the bank if you hate it so much?"

He sighed. "I don't know. It's been in my family for generations. Plus, like it or not, it pays pretty damn well."

She looked around her, taking in her luxurious surroundings. She'd always thought of Jeremy's house as a mansion. It didn't seem as big as it did when she was a kid, but it was still a lovely home. "Yeah. I guess that's something—the money part. But if you sold the bank, wouldn't you be set for life?"

"Yeah, probably, but everything's on hold right now. I'd love to move to New York or maybe even Austin, Texas, someday. Both places have awesome music scenes. I went to South by Southwest in Austin last year." He got a faraway look on his face. "It's this huge music and film festival. God. It was mind-blowin'." He was quiet for a beat but then seemed to come back down to earth, meeting her eyes. "I can't uproot my mom, though, and I can't leave her alone."

"I guess everybody's got their problems, huh?"

"Yeah."

He studied her a moment. "You ever smoked before?"

She scrunched her nose. "Ugh, no. You know how I feel about smoking. I can't ever imagine doing it. It's disgusting, and I don't wanna smell like Aunt Tru—God love her."

He laughed. "I ain't talking about that kind of smokin'. I'm guessing if you had, you wouldn't remember it anyway"

She didn't know what he meant.

He got up, opened a drawer, and pulled out a wooden box about the size of a shoebox. To her surprise, he pressed something on the bottom of it, and a hidden compartment sprang out. He pulled out a small, funny-looking glass pipe and a bag of what looked like dried grass packed into clumps. Grass. It hit her then what he meant, and she felt uneasy. "Is that weed, Jeremy?"

"Yep," he said around the pipe that was now in his mouth. He was in the process of lighting it.

"I can't believe you would do that!"

"Why? There's nothing wrong with it. It ought to be legal."

"Well, it's not," she pointed out indignantly.

He snickered. "Don't be a killjoy. Try it."

"Uh-uh."

He sat down next to her again, and she could smell the same sweet, cloying scent that was on him when he had come to get her. Apparently, this wasn't the first time he'd been "smokin'" tonight.

"I don't like this, Jeremy."

He looked at her, his mouth curved crookedly in amusement.

"Put it away."

He set the pipe on the coffee table that was in front of them.

"Put it away," she insisted, "like, back in the drawer."

He rolled his eyes. "Mercy, TJ. I never knew you were such a prude."

That stopped her for a moment. Something about what he'd said jogged a feeling in her, like a memory was on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't make it come to her. The harder she tried, the more it was just beyond her grasp. She leaned back on the sofa and let out a long exhale of defeat and frustration.

He frowned and held up his hands, misconstruing her reaction. "All right. All right. I'll put it away."

She watched distractedly as he packed up the paraphernalia and hid it back in the drawer. She felt tired and a bit irritated with him and wanted to go home. "I think I need to go, Jeremy." She stood. "Take me back."

He put his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. She couldn't resist him, and in an instant, her ire turned into something much more pleasant.

"Stay, Nelly," he said in his easy drawl. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." He took her face in his hands.

Her heart beat wildly. He was so beautiful, so familiar, so much her Jeremy in so many ways, even though he'd disappointed her with the marijuana display. But he'd apologized for that.

She wanted to savor this moment, but she was suddenly distracted by a strange song that came from the speakers, something very odd, something she would never choose to listen to, but something that struck a chord within her. The song was horrible really, some dirge with an off-key singer and a driving, jerky rhythm that grated on her nerves.

"Hey," Jeremy said gently, his breath still tinged with the sickly-sweet, herbal smell of the marijuana, "I said I'm sorry."

She tried to ignore the song and concentrate on him. This was what she wanted, what she remembered was between them.

He leaned in and kissed her. At first, it was chaste, but then it became more demanding. He tried with his tongue to get her to open her mouth, but she wouldn't do it, couldn't let him in. Maybe it was the marijuana smell that turned her off, but she pulled back.

"That song," she said. "What is it?"

He kissed her again, this time on her earlobe. "Who cares?" His voice was a pleasant vibration in her ear.

"I care. What is it?" Even as she said it, she wondered what the hell she was doing. Jeremy was kissing her. Nothing else should matter.

He halted what he was doing, then pulled back and cocked his head like he was listening. He grinned. "Oh. That's Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. The name of the song is 'From Her to Eternity.'"

It meant nothing to TJ, and she almost cringed as the singer kept up his mournful crooning.

"It's so awful it's cool, right?" said Jeremy. "It's a really old song. It's on the soundtrack of a foreign German film called Wings of Desire.

TJ frowned, not sure why the name of the movie affected her, but it was like she'd been dowsed with a bucket of cold water—and the ardor she'd felt for Jeremy was dowsed with it.

TBC