Here are the next two chappies!!! A word for the reviewers:

Christine Writer: I honestly do not know. Faye is dabbling where she should not be dabbling. XD

scenester7002: Oh, I hope I haven't confused you! I left a bunch of stuff out?! Well, actually, that doesn't surprise me. Glad you liked it anyway though! Please keep reading:)

Mrs. Scott323: Sosososososo happy you loved it!! Worked super hard on 29! Tried to make it very romantic! So happy it worked!

Jocelyn Dashwood had been in deep thought, for a long time. Not about the wedding, or the election, which are the things she probably should've been thinking about. But now, she found herself deliberately pushing these things to the back of her mind.

For something else was dominating her thoughts. That something, or rather, someone, was who seemed like an ordinary schoolgirl. But Jocelyn suspected that she wasn't so ordinary.

She'd latched on that face from the first time she'd seen it, in the crowds that had come to watch her son speak. That face had been so jarringly familiar. And the girl was American, second of all. That was another point.

And then, with her last name, it had been sealed.

Jocelyn had known at once, therefore, that she must find a way to speak with Henry on this matter.

Because deep inside, there was a thought that she was trying to avoid. A possibility that shook her, all the way through.

The girl had brown hair.

The girl was tolerant of Clarissa. Exceptionally tolerant.

And...she was the right age.

In truth, Jocelyn had always had her suspicions. The woman's erratic behavior shortly before her disappearance, her midnight trips to who knows where, her sudden liking of porridge, which had before brought her to the point of gagging.

And now, ever since she'd spoken to that brown-haired girl, she'd felt especially inclined to avoid being in the presence of a certain Mr. Alastair Payne - whom she'd always blamed for the whole mess, despite his attempts at portraying good character. Jocelyn, to put it quite frankly, was not an idiot.

The only reason she ever put up with him, really, was for Henry. Jocelyn hated to admit it, but as shrewd as Alastair was, he was excellent at his job. He took to political advising like ducks took to water. He was born for it, it seemed.

And he kept her son in line, which is something she had often failed at doing herself. The problem now was that Henry was too in line, it seemed. It was all work for him now.

Sure, he had his morning talks with Jocelyn every day, when he read the paper and drank his coffee - Jocelyn would never let it be otherwise. And sure, he'd sneak his occasional late night bowl of sugary cereal.

And he thought she didn't know. Ha!

But because of Mr. Payne and his pushy ways, most of that poor man's time was spent buried in campaign matters, and public speaking matters, and any other matter that might arise. And Glynnis, herself buried in wedding matters - well, swimming in them, really, with a lovely backstroke - fit perfectly into that equation.

And this was all Henry's choice - Jocelyn didn't really have much of a say. She had no choice but to go along with things.

But that didn't mean it was right not to bring this NEW matter to his attention. And now, sitting there sipping tea, she concluded that the importance of this situation could no longer be overlooked. The time had come. She would talk to Henry.

Jocelyn daintily set down her tea, and stood. She then gingerly commenced the short walk to the office. She pulled her chin up firmly, taking deliberate steps. Now, she decided, she could not turn around. Once this woman started something, she never stopped until an accomplishment had been made, however large or small. It was just the way she was.

This hard determination ran through her mind as she stepped into the hall. She had set her gaze in the right direction when she was suddenly thrown off by a rather large, moving shape that came out of nowhere.

It was Lucas Brenshire, son of their dear friend Matthew, who lived not far away. The boy passed her in his haste, almost in a run. Immediately after, however, he stopped, and turned to face Jocelyn for a minute.

"Excuse me, Miss Dashwood." said the boy, son of their friend Matthew, who lived not far away.

"That's quite alright, Lucas." Jocelyn chuckled. "Go on then."

And so, Lucas, son of Matthew, who lived not far away, went on. And Jocelyn followed.

From the woman's point of view, young Lucas looked to be positively ecstatic, to the point of having almost completely lost his wits. Or at least, that was the impression she'd gotten from his immediate bursting into Henry's office.

"I've done it!" she heard him shout at the top of his lungs. Having approached the doorway, she stood by the wall just outside. Luke didn't seem to notice. "I took your advice and it worked! Lord Dashwood, I've finally done it!"

"Henry! Call me Henry, Lucas!" the man sputtered, instantly alarmed - and very startled. "What is it?"

"She believes me!" Luke cried, still in jubilation. "I took her riding, just like you said. And now, she wants to meet with me again! She's in LIKE with me!!!"

"What, you mean the girl? The one from New York you were talking about?"

"That very one." Luke stated proudly. "Sir, I just can't believe it! I...I'm at a loss for words, I -"

"Calm down, Lucas. I've never seen you this excited! What's gotten into you?"

"I'm in love!" he exclaimed, practically jumping up and down. "I'm insanely, madly, falling-down-laughing in love! That's what it is! Exactly what it is! And it's wonderful."

He spun around, and Henry watched, amused, his hands on his hips.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that." he said. "You certainly seem different from yesterday."

"I felt it then, too." Luke told him. "But it's different now. Now, I have a chance. And I just wanted to thank you."

Henry smiled.

"Well then. You've just made my day. I'm glad I was able to help."

Luke grinned again, once more overflowing with excitement.

"Thank you, so much, again! Thanks to you, I've finally won the heart of Meghan Reynolds!" he shouted, before running out, whooping and waving his arms in the air.

Henry was left standing there, hands still on his hips, a blank look on his face. Slowly, he turned around, now facing away from the door, seeming to be in deep concentration as he thoughtfully examined the wall behind his desk.

Jocelyn saw this as she peeked in for a second, and heard him let out a long breath. She then moved backward, and turned back toward the room she's just left. Her work here was done.

I was a very, very happy girl as I reentered the Winthrop household that late Saturday afternoon. Emma, who was sitting at the table, glanced up at me.

"Oh, Meghan, you were outside?" she asked me. "Faye told me y'were studyin' in the bedroom."

I looked at her.

"I needed some fresh air." I said. And I think that was the truth.

Because I felt absolutely wonderful. Like I'd stopped denying myself something I needed. And sure, there was still a little voice inside that nagged me, about the image I was putting forth by what I was doing.

But Luke didn't seem to be nervous about it, so...maybe I shouldn't be nervous either.

I climbed the stairs and entered the room I shared with Faye. She looked up from a book she was reading on her bed.

"Hey, thanks for covering for me." I told her.

She looked at me for a second.

"Oh, it wasn't any trouble." she finally answered.

I spied my hobo bag on the ground, and stoop ed to pick it up.

"Oh my gosh!" I exclaimed. "There's a great big hole in the bottom!"

"Yes, I meant to tell you - Benny was clawing on it a while ago."

"Your mother can fix it, right?"

"I'm sure she can." Faye said, sounding a bit dazed. I don't blame her, seeing as she'd just watched me speed off with a guy I hardly knew. "Did you have a nice trip?"

I laughed.

"Sorry for leaving you like that. As a matter of fact, yes, I did have a good time. He wants to see me again - after school on Monday. I'll ask your mom about it, but I'm sure it'll be okay."

Faye went back to her book.

Confused as I was about Faye's lapse in her normal talkativeness, I knew that I had a math book waiting to be studied. Dumb Mr. Harlison.

I sat on my bed with said book, trying to turn my attention to the numbers, but to no avail. My mind kept drifting to the guy with the golden eyes and the brown curly hair. And that calm, wonderful smile. It was a smile that had feeling behind it. It wasn't shallow, and it meant more than just simple infatuation. It felt new, and comforting.

And with all of the junk I was going through, those eyes and that smile were a welcome sight to me, one that brought safety and relief. Despite the fact that I didn't know this person, and that a relationship would be unconventional, it felt alright. That look he had on his face when he'd asked for that chance - it made things seem alright.

I tried. I really tried to concentrate on my algebra. But only one equation stood out to me.

Luke + Meghan