Ever-so-dearest readers... HELLO! You are SUPER amazing for 1) reading this fic and 2) being EXTREMELY patient with me... for which I am forever grateful! I'm sorry I fell off the face of the Earth for a bit there, BUT I have EAGERLY awaited this day that I deliver you not one... but TWO fully developed chapters! :D [I'm doing my HAPPY dance as I type!] Hopefully 2 long chapters compensate for the length of time it took to post? *bats eyes sincerely* These 2 chapters really warm my heart... and I hope you feel the same way. It was a struggle, getting stuck with so much realism that I forgot that this is a fiction LOL! But thanks to your encouraging words and the downpour we experienced in Southern California yesterday, I was inspired to wrap up Chapter 14 ASAP.

SPECIAL thanks and HUGS to casalang, SouthofNowherefanatic, noodles307, WillowOn3, imaferrari, Sgarc12, Ryoko05, Harley Quinn Davidson, whitey9h, LoLo06, hollymarie4, suspenceme, Lostanddelirious, lonefenix, 2bz2breading, Jaelle90, letsbefrankimawkward, BrownEyez44, Water Queen 21, Factoflife02, degrassi1son, Inkmstr90, MusicSouth91, ellociin, lalalalee, luvmeh8meucan'tchangeme, and last but not least, THE beta (bpitw) for placing the stamp of approval on these chapters ;)

Ish is about to get TWISTED :) Thanks for reading! Enjoy! 3.26.12

My eyes rested on the calming sight in front of me. The low-hanging, cotton-like clouds broke at the right spots to let the perfect amount of sunlight strike the persistent ocean. I lost myself in watching the waves scratch and claw their way at the bottoms of the cliffs, only to recede in constant beats. With every quiet sigh, I wished this road winding around the side of this mountain would eventually lead back to Los Angeles.

Ashley glanced at me before breaking the deafening silence, her hands steadily at 10 and 2 on the wheel. "I didn't get to say thanks for coming with me."

My head rocked against the headrest to the movement of the car. "Well," I exhaled indifferently, "it's what you wanted, right?"

"You make it sound like I put a gun to your head and forced you to come," she scoffed. "I at least offered to help you with your paper."

"I'm sorry," I sighed, this time in resignation. I turned to the brunette. "I'm sure Portland is wonderful and everything it's made out to be. That's not the problem."

"So, what is it then? Does it have to do with what I said… or what happened in your bathroom?"

"No, not at all!" I felt bad that she was blaming herself at this point. "It's just… I try to avoid going anywhere north of LA county."

"…Because of your mother?"

"Exactly. Being around or near her doesn't sit right with either of us."

Ashley glanced at me once more, "She can't be that bad."

"You don't know my mother. I'm the child she wished she'd never had."

"I've lived a long time to know that no parent ever wishes that."

"Well, thanks for that." I paused. "But my mother has never been… motherly to me."

"Because of your powers?"

I nodded, "I'd exposed my mother's affair to the whole family…"

Ashley slightly cringed. "Yikes!"

"…moments after I came out to them." I paused again. "My mother's super religious and…"

"Ah," she interrupted, "that explains it."

"Did you," I looked to her and she returned my gaze curiously, "ever come out to your family?"

"I didn't really know I was gay until I had lived in Paris for a bit… after leaving Massachusetts." Ashley squinted in thought as I wondered who had sparked her interest in the so-called City of Love. "Now that I think of it, there was one person, aside from Jton, whom I did come out to and considered the closest thing I had to a sister after Kyla, but that was much, much later in the 70's."

"And by 70's, do you mean the 1770's?"

Ashley chuckled and I followed suit. "No, the 1970's."

"Just checking." I smiled. "So, things were strictly platonic with this close friend of yours?" My curiosity beckoned.

"Yes, she was definitely someone whom I'd considered more of a best friend really. I wasn't attracted to her like that. She was completely straight, without a doubt. I met her in college – Ohio State."

Hmm… Interesting.

"We just clicked right away." Ashley glanced at me for a second. "If you remember American history, the Hippie era was in the 1960's. There were a lot of protests against the Vietnam War and the American culture changed drastically. The movement for women's rights, minority rights and gay liberation spurred and continued through the 70's."

"Yes."

"So, I came out to this friend and she was extremely supportive. She was a very outspoken women's rights activist and, with a friend like me, she was naturally a gay rights activist."

"Sounds like a true friend." I wondered where this friend might be today. "So, what happened to her?"

"Her mother happened, that's what." Ashley responded sardonically. "Her mother succeeded at brainwashing her that the gay movement was sinful and that she surely was going to hell for it. She never spoke to me again." The brunette paused. "It's one thing to say you believe in all these ideas about peace and equality, but by her actions, I learned what she really stood for."

"Gosh, I'm sorry to hear that, Ash. It sucks to lose good friends because you are who you are." At that moment, I thought of Donny and the cost of losing him to protect Ashley's well-being.

"It does. But true friends are the ones who stick around because you are who you are." She paused. "I think you can relate."

I nodded. "It's… a repercussion. Comes with the territory of having these powers, I suppose."

"It can be pretty lonely sometimes."

"Yes, unfortunately it can."

"But," she looked over her shoulder to switch lanes, as I briefly heard the tires against the lane dividers, "I'm glad to have met someone like you who understands where I'm coming from." Her eyes were fixed on the road.

"Me too," I replied at a volume slightly louder than a whisper.

"And at least you're not going alone to visit your mother."

I gave her one big nod. "Thank you."

She reached behind the seat. "I brought some Flamin' Hot Cheetos." The wrapper crumpled under her grip as she placed the rather large bag on my lap.

"You sure know the way to a girl's heart," I joked. She looked at me in amazement… and surprise. "…through a girl's stomach." We chuckled as I shamelessly ripped the bag open.

"And I promise that Portland is wonderful and everything it's made out to be."

"I hope so. Otherwise, the 24-hour roundtrip would be for nothing." I chomped on a Cheeto.

"Oh, I wouldn't say it'd be for nothing." She said in a way that made me ponder the intent, but I shrugged it off as a jovial comment.

"For whatever it is, we still have plenty of time to kill." I licked the chip spices off the tips of my fingers before grabbing another. "So, tell me about the Dalai Lama."

"How about I tell you later when you have your laptop out? I think it would really help you with your paper."

"Fair enough," I grabbed another Cheeto, "but tell me one thing." She raised her eyebrows, her ears attentive to my question. "You said you knew the Dalai Lama."

"Ah," she caught on to my train of thought, "I've never met the current Dalia Lama, Tenzin Gyatso. I knew the one before him, Thubten Gyatso."

"Oh," my eyes shifted to the road in front of us. "Wow." It still amazed me how well-traveled and… historical (for lack of better terms) she was.

"Tibet is such a beautiful place."

"Much like Tuscany?"

"Yes," she smiled this quaint little smile. "Beauty exists everywhere."

"So, why did you leave Tuscany?"

Her facial expression became somewhat somber, "Personal reasons."

I nodded in understanding. By now, I knew when I was allowed to prod further and when I had reached Ashley's boundaries.

For the next few hours, Ashley was kind enough to let me take the reins on the car radio. But no matter what, I couldn't help but dwell on the looming visit to my mother. I pondered various possibilities on how I could get out of it: stomach flu… making a run for it… zombies.

But it was useless. Before we knew it, we were turning into the parking lot of Cottage Hospital. As the Prius came to a very quiet halt, I literally felt the life drain from me. After what seemed like an eternity, I forced what energy I had to drag myself out of the car. After all, I couldn't leave Ashley to stand outside my door and gawk at me through the window, wondering when I would start to decompose.

Everything from that moment forward seemed like a life sentence spent in uber slow motion. It was all just very uncomfortable… and no, it doesn't get easier each time.

When we got to my mother's room, I knocked on the opened door. I walked in and noticed the bed next to hers was empty and it looked like the sheets were in the middle of being changed. I turned my nose at the stale smell and shuddered for a second at the coldness in the room, soon realizing it was my mother's cold presence that stung me.

She had her head turned away, facing the long sill by the window that held a few of her visitors' flowers. Her hair was somewhat matted to one side, away from the white headband on her head. I noticed a few dark blonde stubs of hair begin to grow from underneath parts of the bandage on the side of her head. She looked pale and I started feeling concerned for her condition. The last I'd heard, she was improving. But it didn't look that way.

By the calming rise and fall of her chest underneath the blanket, I realized she was asleep. I stared at her face for a second as Ashley stood next to me, matching my gaze. She looked down at the chart at the foot of the bed that stated my mother's name, staring for a bit before looking at my mother's face again. I know that the mortality of humans fascinates her so.

For a second, I contemplated calling her name and waking her, just to know she was okay. I wanted to at least see her eyes flutter open, and I partly wanted her to show me she recognized me. I walked around the side of the bed to face her. But from there, I froze in place. I was a coward who was still deathly afraid of how she would react to seeing me.

"May I?" Ashley pointed to the chart, which had mom's history, treatment and prognosis report.

I nodded before looking back at my mother. It's sad that the only times we're not fighting and the only times that she's not hating me are when she's unaware of my presence. I recalled how many times and how many years I'd longed for a normal mother-daughter relationship, how different my life would've been. But I resolved I would never have that… ever.

I heard Ashley flip through the chart as I carefully combed some of mom's hair to the side. When I looked to my right, I noticed her water pitcher was empty. "I'll be right back. I'm gonna go fill this for her."

The brunette nodded, unable to tear her eyes away from the chart. She sure took interest in learning about my mother's condition. I proceeded to find the nearest nurse's station to fill the pitcher with clean drinking water. I watched the cool water flow into the pitcher, now realizing how my breath had finally returned to me. I felt safe anywhere outside of that room.

I carefully walked back to the room with pitcher in hand, passing orderlies moving empty gurneys around, doctors charting information, nurses making calls and reviewing patient schedules, and visitors eager to see their loved ones. Yet, the hallways were almost as quiet as the school library. So quiet, in fact, that I could overhear Ashley talking to someone in my mother's room. I stopped to eavesdrop.

"Dr. Carlin." She spoke my mother's name in all the grandeur associated with its title, as if she were making a grand introduction.

"…Who are you?" My mother whispered hoarsely.

"Your good friend from Ohio State."

There was a brief moment of silence.

"Ashley Davies?" She inquired in astonishment. I was equally shocked, but somewhat happy that she was able to speak coherently now.

"Well, I'll be damned." Ashley chuckled. "I wasn't sure you'd recognize me, Paula." I could hear the scratching of a chair in the room and assumed it was the brunette pulling up next to the bed. I furrowed my eyebrows, curious to find out how they knew one another.

"I'm hallucinating." My mother resolved, but Ashley ignored her response.

"Gosh, I haven't seen you since Mary dragged you out of DC. You were such a promising inspiration back then. It's a shame how you turned out." Ashley clicked her tongue. I couldn't tell if there was contempt or mockery in her tone. Maybe a bit of both?

"Nothing about my life is a shame. I turned my life around." My mother's voice was almost as stern as when she speaks to me. "I'm a well-respected surgeon now!"

"Is that so?" I could hear Ashley rise to her feet. "Well, Dr. Carlin, I wouldn't want to keep you from your busy schedule. I'm sure you have a lot of patients to attend to." Yup, definitely mockery.

"Why did you come?" It was the first time I heard hurt and vulnerability in her voice. It was the first time I witnessed someone demolish that cold, austere barrier my mother upheld.

"You never returned my calls or my letters." She paused. "What happened to you? What happened to my best friend who, on that night, told me that she had my back?"

Best friend?

My mother remained silent.

"You did your mother proud." And now I could hear the hurt in Ashley's voice. "But, I'm so glad that cowardice doesn't run in your family."

I couldn't listen to this anymore. I couldn't stomach the idea of what my mother would do if she knew I was essentially the one who brought back a blast from her past.

I left the pitcher with a charge nurse walking in my direction and asked her to place it in the room before I briskly walked to the elevator. I lingered by Ashley's car, contemplating whether I should just catch a bus back to LA. I felt awkward about this… and somewhat betrayed. I exposed my secrets to her… and apparently so had my mother at some point in her life. I was afraid of the unspoken power she held over the both of us. Was she just using me to get to my mother because of some unsettled issue they had way before I was even born? Again, I questioned Ashley's intentions. This was becoming too much of a habit for me.

It didn't take long until I saw Ashley making her way towards me.

"There you are." It was apparent that some of her enthusiasm had died in that room. My mother has that effect. "What are you doing out here?"

I kept my arms crossed and remained unmoved against her car. I really didn't know how to answer her question. I looked down at my shoes.

"You heard us."

"It was my mother," I blurted matter-of-factly. She stood there silently. "She was the one from Ohio. I should've known."

"Should've known… what exactly?"

I scoffed, "This can't be a coincidence. You knew my last name was Carlin. Were you using me to get to her?"

"You're kidding, right?"

"You tell me! You were pretty adamant about driving me to—"

"Spencer, I swear I had no idea." Ashley interrupted. "I knew your mother before she got married… back when she was Paula Wilson." The brunette stepped closer and I felt my nerves perk with attentiveness, now finding myself within her proximity. My eyes danced around, somewhat intimidated to make eye contact. "I hate to bring this up, but don't forget who witnessed that incident with me and the drunk driver… and who persistently sought me out and followed me, class after class." My eyes finally gazed into hers. "And, yet, here I am… trusting you with my secrets, going to your birthday party, and going out of my way to help you with your paper." I saw from my peripheral as she reached for the handle and gently yanked the door open. The force was enough to push me up onto my feet and within mere inches of her. "I don't know if that's enough for you to consider me something of a friend, but at least let that be enough for you to trust that I'm not here to hurt you." She backed away and walked around to the other side as we got in the car together.

The power of her words settled with me as I noticed her tone sounded almost as hurt as when she was speaking with my mother. She was absolutely right.

"Sometimes," Ashley started the engine and began maneuvering out of the parking spot, "I wish you could read my mind. I think you'd be surprised to know how much I actually care about you."

The silence that persisted for about an hour was an awkward one. The imminent tension would only continue on with the setting sun. After telling Ashley I'd trusted her, it was apparent in my words and actions that I didn't. There was no way I could go back and change what I had already said or done. And I still had a million questions about Ashley's history… and about the mother I never knew. But, this was all pretty heavy stuff! The more I learned about Ashley, the more information I had to deal with… and figure out where to place. And the more burdens I had to bear. The more emotions I had to feel. For these reasons, I wondered whether learning more about the brunette would really be worth anything.

I decided to put my big girl panties on… and mean it this time.

"I'm sorry… for not trusting you." My voice filled the small space, overbearing the faint sound of the radio. She looked at me briefly as I continued. "I'm sorry for being a bitch, really. And I'm sorry for everything my mother did to you."

"Spencer, thank you. It means a lot that you feel that way." Ashley paused. "But you don't need to apologize for what your mother did. That wasn't your fault."

"I just… I can't believe you know her."

"I knew Paula Wilson." She corrected. "But I don't know Dr. Carlin."

"Well, I've only known the latter." I shrugged. "What was she like... before?"

I noticed her now sympathetic look. "She was a lot like you: independent."

"I can't even believe that the best friend you were describing was my mother." I half chuckled, half scoffed. "I mean, I knew she was briefly into politics, but her being a strong, open-minded activist, much less a gay rights activist, seems impossible to even imagine."

"I wish you could have known her."

"Tell me more." I uttered almost desperately. "How did you meet her?"

"Your mother was involved in Ohio State's NOW chapter. NOW is the National Organization for Women. She often passed out flyers on campus and talked to students about NOW's weekly meetings, trying to get them involved in reaching out to Congress about making a stand for women's rights. One day in late Spring of 1969 while flyering, she stopped me and talked to me about the women's liberation movement and Betty Friedan's book, The Feminine Mystique." Ashley smiled at the recollection of it all. "You would've loved her, Spence. She was so passionate and credible. I think she was the reason so many people joined the organization because of how inspiring she came off as. She wanted to follow in Betty Friedan's footsteps."

Again, I began to wonder how different my life would've been, had I been raised by this version of my mother.

"So, what changed?"

"August 26th 1970 was the Women's Strike for Equality held nationwide. History changed that day." Ashley paused. "It was also the day your grandmother changed your mother…"

I remember sitting in the back of a bronze Volkswagen van with five other women from NOW, Paula included. Two were jamming on some acoustics as the rest of us passed around some hashish and talked about discrimination in the workplace. The backseats had been removed and in their place were some plush flower power pillows carrying faint odors of the drug. Colorful translucent beads draped around the tinted windows and the side door of the car. They quietly jingled to the gentle rocking of the van. It was an 8-hour drive from Columbus to Washington, D.C. and several of the NOW members decided to caravan to the Strike for Equality protest at our nation's capitol.

"Just because we're women doesn't mean we should be paid half the standard wage of our penis-bearing counterparts." Joan protested.

"Right on!" Phyllis responded with her marijuana-induced squinty eyes.

"Absolutely! It's a ridiculous catch-22: we can either work twice as hard for half the wage, or lose representation in the workplace altogether and get our asses kicked all the way back into the kitchen." Paula grumbled before lighting up. She slowly inhaled before passing it over to me.

"It's so degrading," I concurred. "What more for working lesbians who are up against sexism and homophobia?"

"I'm so glad NOW is starting to fight for lesbian rights." Paula patted me on the shoulder. "It's just as important."

"Groovy!" Joan grinned. "That's why we shouldn't iron while the strike is hot!" She quoted Betty Friedan. Marge and Alice, the two playing the guitars, nodded along. With the exception of Paula and Phyllis, the rest of us in that van identified as lesbians.

Paula turned to me. "Always remember that you're an equal, Ashley. Don't let anyone make you believe otherwise."

"You're a good friend, Paula."

"I'm always looking out for you, Ash." We both leaned back into the plush pillows, trading hits on the hashish. "Speaking of being on the lookout, I can't help but notice how Joan keeps gawking at you."

"Must be the marijuana." I said naïvely.

"No," Paula giggled, "I think she really likes you."

"Hmm." I wondered what it was about me that she found attractive. Perhaps it was my red bell bottoms or how I always wore those Beatle-esque sunglasses.

"You should go talk to her. She seems like your type." Paula had a knack for knowing my type, right down to a tee.

"Maybe later. I don't want to do it in front of Alice." And as lesbians of NOW, we tended to keep it in the club. Alice was with Marge now, but I still had enough respect not to flirt in front her.

We arrived the next morning at Connecticut Avenue in Washington, D.C. Several thousands of women were already gathered there, ready with picket signs and clever chants. People were passing out free coffee and breakfast to fellow protesters. Alliances of minority groups and lesbian rights groups blended in with the masses, preparing to strike in the name of equality.

"What do we want?" A woman's voice bellowed on a megaphone.

"Equal rights!" The masses shouted.

"When do we want them?" The woman chanted.

We responded, "Now!"

I stepped aside to have a quiet conversation with Joan as Phyllis and Marge unrolled our Ohio State chapter's NOW banner. Alice sipped on some coffee, casually holding Marge's hand and watching on as Paula colored in a rainbow peace sign on the banner.

"So, we should hang out when we get back." Joan mumbled in my ear. "Maybe go on a date?"

"Okay, definitely." I smiled back, admiring how feminine she still looked under that flannel shirt and pair of men's pants. We were all dressed in men's wear, matching the theme of the crowd's majority. Dressing up in masculine clothing was a physical representation of how we identified ourselves as equal to our male counterparts.

I suddenly felt someone hastily push past me. I turned to see who had rudely squeezed her way into the masses and noticed an older lady, daintily clad in her properly pressed sun dress. She had white-laced gloves on and perfectly curled dirty blonde hair that bounced at every quick step she took. The only thing off about her was her disgruntled demeanor.

"Paula!" She shrieked.

"Mom!" Paula stood in bafflement. "What are you doing here?"

"Paula, I specifically told you that you couldn't go to Washington and you deliberately disobeyed me!" She paused. "Grab your things. Let's go!" Her voice was loud in short bursts.

"This is not just some school protest, mom! Look around you. This is monumental! It means a lot to me to be here!"

"That doesn't matter." She held a stiff upper lip. "You're coming with me."

I calmly made my way towards the two. "Mary—"

"It's Mrs. Wilson, Ashley."

"Okay, Mrs. Wilson," I paused, holding my tongue before I said anything I would regret. "This is a peaceful protest in the name of women's rights."

"Need I remind you of the Kent State shootings that happened just last year? That was a peaceful protest that turned deadly." Her eyes grew wide as she made her point. "Now, I'm all for equality, but not when my daughter's life is potentially at stake."

"I would rather die fighting for my rights, than live under oppression and conformity." Paula annunciated.

"Don't be so dramatic." Mary rolled her eyes. "Grab your things. We have a flight home to catch."

"I'm staying here!"

"Mrs. Wilson," I stepped closer as her eyes bore into mine. "I care about Paula. I wouldn't let anything happen to her."

"She's not yours to protect, Ashley."

"You're right. She can take care of herself." She was caught off guard by my audacity. Her eyes danced around at our friends' faces. Mary furrowed her eyebrows at Alice and Marge's blatant affection for one another. Soon, her eyes zeroed in at my side. I followed her gaze to my forearm where Joan's hands were delicately gripping me.

She turned to Paula, "These are the type of people you surround yourself with? These… these lesbians?" She gawked at us in contempt.

"Mom—"

"No wonder you are drowning in sin! These girls are sinners, Paula." She pointed to us. "They're not right in the head."

My eyebrows crumpled as our friends gasped.

"Excuse me?" Alice blurted as Marge held her back from lashing out.

Mary disregarded our reactions. "I'm not leaving without you, Paula."

"Great!" Phyllis snidely remarked. "You can march with us then."

"Clearly, she would stick out like a sore thumb. She doesn't stand for true women's rights." Joan sneered. "Paula, it'd be best to get her out of here."

Paula nodded. "I'll see you guys later," she responded in a defeated tone. Mary gave us one last dirty look before following her daughter out of the crowd.

After the protest, I never saw Paula again. I called her, looked for her. Hell, I even sent her letters. But all my efforts went unanswered. She was avoiding all our friends and our organization completely. It wasn't until Phyllis ran into her months later that she found out Mary had brainwashed her back into "religious order."

I fell in deep thought after Ashley's story.

All my life, I'd longed for my mother to look at me like a mother looks at her daughter. I longed for her to just… love me. I'd grown up believing that there really wasn't an ounce of love in that mind, body or soul of hers. But, to think that she was actually passionate about the well-being of others instead of herself and to fathom the idea that humanity existed in that shell I'd known… it hurt. I felt cheated out of a real childhood.

I could easily point the finger at my grandmother, but my mother has always had a mind of her own. I realized now that she gave up way too easily. She didn't fight hard enough for herself. And in that sense, she never fought hard enough for us. We were done before I was even born.

Needless to say, I didn't feel like talking much after I'd learned this hidden truth about my mother's past. And I'd appreciated that Ashley didn't prod or push me to talk. We effortlessly understood each other's boundaries.

It wasn't long before the sun had set… and dusk had taken over. I grew tired and nodded off a few times, leaning my head against the side window. I eventually fell asleep.

When I woke up, I noticed brightness shining in my eyes from the fluorescent lights above. The car was parked, but the keys were still in the ignition. The clock showed it was a little after 9:30 in the evening. I briefly snuggled up to the warmth underneath the coat Ashley had placed over me, now realizing we were at a gas station.

I could hear Ashley place the hose back at the pump before quickly getting into the driver's side. For a moment, I could feel the stinging cold nip at my face. Ashley, on the other hand, looked completely complacent in a thin, long-sleeved shirt. I dug myself further into the coat before Ashley turned to me, now noticing my chilled demeanor.

"Oh, sorry." She shut the door. "I forget how coldness feels."

"Where are we?" My teeth chattered for a second.

Ashley smiled, "We're in Portland. It's just a short drive to the house."

I sat up as Ashley started the engine. We were on the freeway for a few more minutes, and in those few minutes, I enjoyed seeing the lights of the Portland skyline. The city reminded me of home, but it wasn't as bustling as Los Angeles. It seemed a tad more peaceful. The skyscrapers weren't very tall. But I guess that's what made it a little more homelike than highly condensed urban areas like LA.

Soon, we were exiting towards a place called Goose Hollow. Ashley drove us up a few winding road that led up the hillside. The streets were dimly lit. I could make out faint shadows of foliage and trees lining the roads. Behind them were tiny houselights that would lead anyone to underestimate the size of these estates, myself included. I didn't realize it until we reached the top of a hill and parked on a gravel driveway.

"Welcome to my home." Ashley and I both got out of the car. I quickly buttoned my coat and wrapped my scarf around.

"This isn't a house. This is a mansion!" The lights illuminated bleach white rectangular window frames, off-white stucco walls, and brick-red roof shingles. I noticed how both sides of the house extended back in a V-formation.

Ashley grabbed our bags and let us in through the oak door at the main entrance. We walked into a dark foyer grounded in hardwood flooring. There was a grand staircase ahead that split to either side of the house. To the right was a large dining room with a long table, its oak resembling that of the door. To the left was a sitting room where a fire was blazing in a vast fireplace surrounded by full bookshelves. Aside from a large red rug surrounded by furniture in the sitting room, there was no décor in the would-be pretentious estate.

Ashley placed the bags down by the staircase. "Bunica?" she called out.

"Is someone else here?"

A few seconds later, an old lady emerged from behind a swinging door in the dining room. Her dark gray hair hid beneath a floral scarf. Her wool sweater looked a bit old and moth-eaten, while her long, flowing white skirt showcased elaborate patterns. She turned the light on in the foyer before her eyes met ours. Her eyes were dark and deep-set, but I noticed how she knowingly looked at me.

"Vreau sa cunosti pe cineva." Ashley spoke in a language I was not even remotely familiar with. "Spencer, this is Tullia. She is the housekeeper. She is also my grandmother… my bunica."

I furrowed my eyebrows in slight confusion. "I thought you said you had no family."

"I don't. But for all intents and purposes, I call her my grandmother because she is the one who took me in many years ago." The brunette turned to Tullia. "Ea este prientenul meu. Numele ei este Spencer."

The wrinkles on her face curved as she smiled. "Bun venit," she said as she hugged me. I couldn't read her mind, and if I tried, I'm certain it would be in a language I could not decipher.

"She says 'welcome.'" Ashley smiled.

"Thank you." We let out of our embrace and she held my hands. "It's so nice to meet you."

"Forgive me. I forget to speak English." She said with a heavy accent. "You are our first visitor." Tullia continued to smile at me. Not since first meeting Ashley was I even more intrigued to know what someone was thinking. She looked at me with familiarity… and maybe a hint of admiration. It was certainly warm and inviting.

"Bunica, what happened to the house?" Ashley pointed at the plastic curtain at the top of the staircase to the left.

"There are leaks in the roof in the west wing. The repairmen are still working on it." Wings? The only thing I've ever owned with wings was a maxi pad.

"I'll see what I can do in the morning." Ashley responded. "Are you hungry?" She looked at me.

"Just a little."

"I will fix you something." Tullia smiled. "Please, make yourself at home." Her eyes squinted underneath those rosy cheeks as she continued to smile her way back to the kitchen. Ashley grabbed our bags and led me up the stairs. Our footsteps shuffled and knocked against the wood.

"Please excuse the mess. The house is a bit old and needs some fixing from time to time."

"Oh, yeah." I chuckled. "I was totally going to whine about the dust on the crown molding around your castle. Next thing you'll probably say is that you haven't given the Maserati a wax," I joked.

She stopped to look at me. "Would you like to take her for a ride?" Ashley's eyes lit up.

"You have a Maserati in the garage?"

"No, not in the garage. I keep her in the stable."

"Stable?"

"Yes." She smiled before continuing up the steps leading to the east wing. "Maserati's the name of my Thoroughbred."

The hallway that extended through the east wing appeared to be fairly wide. Scarlet carpet ran down the center, all the way to the window at the opposite end. Again, there was no décor, aside from the crown molding and elaborate patterns etched in the wooden walls just around the light sconces illuminating the hallway.

"You'll be staying in the guest room here." Ashley opened the first door on the left. She turned the light on and placed my bag on the ottoman at the foot of the biggest bed I'd ever seen. Opposite from the doorway was a vast window perfectly spread over a long, cozy window seat. In the corner to the right of the grand window was a small study, and just across the way was a sitting area surrounding a small fireplace.

Ashley proceeded to close the thick scarlet curtain over the window. I took my scarf and coat off as Tullia stepped in carrying a delicious looking sandwich and some juice on a tray. She placed it on the coffee table at the sitting area. Ashley came over to stack some wood in the fireplace.

"Thank you." I said to Tullia as she turned to leave. She could only smile and nod at me, her eyes still glued to me even as she left.

"She likes you." Ashley stood up after successfully starting a fire.

"She's very kind and welcoming." I sat at the edge of the bed. "And surprisingly, I cannot read her mind either."

"Even gifted minds need protection." She stepped closer, her hand running over the soft comforter as she stopped next to me. "Tullia can see people's futures. For whatever reason, she can't say what she sees, but she can help guide people."

"Hmm. I wonder what she sees for me." The way Tullia looks at me is as if she knows something.

Ashley shrugged. "Well, I'll let you settle in and get some rest. I know it's been a long day with your mom and all." She raised her hand and hesitated for a second before gently patting me on the shoulder.

"Ash?"

"Yeah?"

I sighed, now realizing just how long of a day it had been. "Thank you," I mumbled.

Ashley nodded. "I'll just be next door if you need anything." She walked towards the door. "Good night."

"G'night." I whispered back as she shut the door behind her.

I reached for my cell phone and noticed a few texts I had yet to respond to:

11:43am – Liz: Miss you already! Have a safe trip :)

2:17pm – Glen: Did you visit mom?

3:14pm – Liz: Thinking of you. How's the drive?

4:36pm – Glen: ?

8:47pm – Madison: going to here bar tonight with jton. wish u 2 could be there! miss u both!

9:04pm – Liz: Did you two get there okay? How are you?

I sighed again… this time a much deeper sigh. How could I even begin to explain how I am at the moment? I didn't have the energy.

Sometimes, I wish people in my life could just understand without me having to explain.

Oddly enough, I felt comfort knowing that Ashley and I shared a connection through my mother. We shared in that sorrow that I'd thought no one else could even begin to understand. But she did.

And for once, I didn't feel alone.