Part 13- A Plan and a Play

The smell of curry hit Will as soon as he opened his front door, and he made a face as he tossed his keys on the table. He wanted his father to feel at home in their home—because it was *their* home, and Allie's, too—but putting up with Indian takeout was not one of the perks. Like his mother, he'd never been able to stomach it.

"You had to go Indian?" Will asked Lucas upon strolling into the living room.

Lucas wrapped Will into a hug. "It's about time I had someone on my side, after all those years of you and your mom claiming you were allergic."

"Allie's choice?"

"It was the first thing she said after we got in the car- Bukhara Indian Bistro, are they any good? I was so relieved to hear her talking that I went in and bought one of everything."

Will smiled wryly. "Of course you did. The day after you found out I was your son, you bought me a pony. Good thing you didn't drive past one of those. I don't think it would fit in here."

Lucas pretended to consider the idea. "No, I don't think we have room for a horse right now. I put Allie in my room and Abby in yours, so we're camping out down here. Tomorrow that fourth bedroom gets cleaned out for Allie, and if Allie's all right with it, we'll ship Abby off to stay with Chelsea."

"Allie's asleep, then?" Will held up a plastic bag. "I guess I'll have to give her this tomorrow."

"What is it?"

Will removed a stuffed bear from the bag with a flourish. "The newest Mr. Fuzzy. I went to five or six toy stores, but none of their bears seemed like Mr. Fuzzy. I ended up driving out to Build-A-Bear so I could get one with different colored eyes, like the one I had."

"Six stores, huh?"

"Yeah."

Lucas smirked. "Good thing you didn't decide to get her a pony. It would take you a while to get around to six stables."

"Ha ha." Will set the bear down, and almost as an afterthought handed the lab report to Lucas. "It came out like we thought."

Lucas stared at the lab report even though he didn't understand much of it. "Like she could have been anyone else. God, she looks like Sami."

"Hope she doesn't act like her," Will blurted out before he could stop himself. "Sorry," he added, before Lucas could say a word.

Lucas didn't feel up to having that particular unending argument tonight, so he settled for changing the subject. "Have you painted the walls in that room since you bought this place?"

"The little bedroom in the front? No. It was painted right before I bought it, I think. I've always used it for storage. I had my room and the guest room and the gym. I couldn't think of anything to do with it, especially since I was always at work."

"So we can just let her choose the color as soon as she gets up tomorrow morning—we'll do that first, then get a rug and a new bed, at least. I'm hoping Abby and Chelsea or maybe Belle will take Allie shopping for clothes in the afternoon, and we can set up in there while they're gone. She mentioned that the British bastard hired the same tutors for her and Johnny and that Johnny is in some elitist school for obnoxious English kids, so Allie will probably be able to start school here without any trouble—"

"Wait! Stop!" Will held up his hand. "We know where Johnny is?"

"She didn't know which school, but I think we can narrow it down, yeah. Oh, do you have a pediatrician in mind to check Allie out?"

"Yeah—"

Lucas didn't wait for further explanation. "We need to finalize the decision about where she's going to school as soon as possible so we can be sure of what supplies she needs, but we can probably put that off for a few days…"

Will sat quietly in a chair that had been one of Grandma Marlena's castoffs and adjusted the bow around the neck of the stuffed bear. Occasionally, he nodded or said "yes," and that was enough to keep his father talking enthusiastically.

Lucas hadn't been anywhere close to this happy in the long months that had passed since his release from prison. Will had never been able to make him this happy.

Will stared at the floor as a rush of guilt threatened to overwhelm him. He should have tried harder. He had had years to plan for Lucas' return; he should have known that there was a way to make his father come alive with plans and energy. He shouldn't have waited for a thirteen-year-old girl to do his work for him.

Jealousy sliced through the guilt. Why was Lucas so worked up over Allie's life when he had never been anything but politely, distantly proud of Will's?

Then guilt returned. Allie was a long-lost child who desperately needed the father she had never known. Will was an adult who didn't need anything. He had no business feeling jealous of her.

But he was grateful all the same when Lucas finally stopped talking and they agreed to get a few hours' rest before putting Lucas' plans into action.

It was still the very early hours of the morning when Allie crept downstairs. She had forced herself to stay in bed for hours after the jetlag had decreed that she would not sleep any longer, even reading most of a book that had apparently been written by her cousin Abby. (The most interesting part, though, was the note Abby had written to Will inside the cover. Why had Will been in London a few years before, and why had it been such a trying experience? She thought that it must have had something to do with their mother, but she couldn't think of a way to broach the topic. Perhaps when she and Will had spent more time together?)

Despite the early hour, though, Allie found her father, brother, and Abby at the kitchen table, eating bagels and shifting through stacks of catalogues and paint samples.

"Good morning, Allie!" said Lucas cheerfully. "What color do you want your room painted?"

"My room?" asked Allie dubiously.

"Your room," Lucas repeated, as if it was silly of Allie not to have expected this. Allie stared at the rainbow of colors before her and focused in on a light turquoise color called seafoam green.

"That one." She pointed.

"Good. Shades or blinds on the windows?"

All Allie really cared about was whether or not the windows opened, but she didn't think that bringing that up was likely to achieve anything. She pointed to another picture, almost at random. "Something like that. It doesn't really matter."

"Do you want curtains?"

The idea of curtains blowing in the breeze was pleasing. "Yes."

"Color?"

"White."

The questions— about rugs, quilts, sheets, mirrors, furniture— went on for over an hour. They adjourned to the room that was to be Allie's so she could look at it while she made decisions. By the time Lucas seemed satisfied, the sun was up and the day had properly begun.

"Will and I are going to try to get everything ready today," Lucas told her, and Will nodded and smiled. "And while we're doing that, we were wondering if you'd be all right with spending some time with your Aunt Belle and your cousins."

There was a nervous feeling in the pit of Allie's stomach, but she reminded herself that she had decided not to worry about her new life when it had to be better than her old one. Hadn't she always wanted to be anywhere but at her guardian's house?

"Sure."

Lucas beamed, and Allie was reassured that she had answered correctly. "You have a very important project," he told her. "You need clothes for school… and everywhere else. Your Aunt Belle is going to make sure you get the perfect wardrobe. Anything you want. You can have anything you want."

"You never tell a teenage girl she can have whatever clothes she wants," a singsong voice interrupted teasingly.

Allie knew that this must be Belle even before Lucas called her by name and asked if Abby had let her in. Allie's other newfound relatives had all been nice to her, and it was the way they acted that made her believe that they were her family.

Belle, though, was someone Allie might have stared at if they passed on a crowded street, because Belle looked more than a little bit like Allie. Or Allie looked like Belle. Or they both looked like Allie's mother, who was Belle's sister.

"Wow," Belle breathed as her eyes locked with Allie's. "I know you told me on the phone that she looked like Sami, Lucas, but… you must be getting tired of hearing how much you look like your mom," Belle said to Allie.

"Not so far," Allie told her.

"You will. Everyone is going to say it. Are you ready to go?" Allie nodded. "I made Claire and Ciara wait in the car. They're so excited to meet you. They haven't been able to talk about anything else."

Allie was just about to ask who Claire and Ciara were (the overly broad word "cousins" seemed to apply to half the town) when Belle unexpectedly put her arms around Allie. Allie tried not to stiffen too much in the unexpected embrace.

"I'm sorry," Belle said in a voice thick with tears. "I don't want to overwhelm you, but I'm so glad you're back. We've all missed you and Johnny so much. Every time I look at my children, I remember that they should have been growing up with Sami's children. We wanted that for you, for all of you."

Allie didn't know what to say, but that didn't matter, because suddenly two teenage girls were before them. It took Allie a long second to realize that these were Claire and Ciara. She had come to the unconscious conclusion that there must not be anyone her age in her new family or her new world. She had only ever had Johnny, and now that Johnny was gone, there couldn't be anyone else. It all made sense.

The taller, older girl turned out to be Belle's daughter Claire. Claire's strawberry blonde curls were pulled into a long French braid, and she had the kind of confident grace Allie wished she had.

The dark-haired, pixie-faced girl, Ciara, was almost as short as Allie and had an overabundance of energy. Ciara kept up a steady stream of chatter and questions as they went from store to store, and while Allie was slightly taken aback, she was also grateful. Ciara was always on to the next subject before anything could get awkward.

Allie didn't have much experience with choosing clothes. EJ had always done that for her. She accepted Belle's theories on what colors and styles were best, and Claire and Ciara's assertions that everyone at school had one of *these*, but no one had one of *those*.

The only trying moment came at the end of the day when Belle announced that Allie needed a bra.

"Wish I needed one as much as she does," said Ciara. Claire hit Ciara over the head with a pair of tights that had been on display nearby.

Allie blushed, not so much at Ciara's commentary as because she had never worn a bra before. That was something her guardian had never purchased. She was grateful for that; he probably would have insisted on helping her try it on. She blushed, then felt sick, wondering if the salesperson was going to fuss over the fit of the bra the way others had fussed over the fit of skirts and jackets. (Belle was of the opinion that Allie had to try *everything* on until she knew more about what she liked and what fit.)

Claire misinterpreted Allie's blush. "She meant it as a compliment," she said soothingly.

"I did," agreed Ciara anxiously. "Is it because you're English and the English don't talk about things like bras?"

"She's not English," said Claire.

"She has an English accent," said Ciara.

"That doesn't make her English," said Claire. "And you don't know that the English don't talk about bras."

"You don't know that they do."

"They would have to, sometimes, or none of them would ever wear them."

Belle put her hand on Allie's arm. "Why don't we just leave them here and pretend we don't know them?" she suggested.

Claire and Ciara both exploded with laughter and hurried to catch up with Belle and Allie.

"We'll be quiet."

"Like you could ever be quiet."

"Like you're any better."

"What's bothering you?" Belle asked gently, and suddenly Claire and Ciara really were quiet.

"Does the salesperson have to put it—have to check to see how it fits?" Allie mumbled at last.

The sympathetic look on Belle's face made Allie feel even worse. "No, sweetheart, she doesn't. You can go into the changing room alone, and no one else has to look. Just tell me which you want me to buy, and that will be it."

It was almost worth going into the changing room with a handful of things she wasn't entirely sure how to put on to escape from the odd way Claire and Ciara were looking at her. She hated the mirrors and the glowing lights and her hovering entourage.

Claire and Ciara, meanwhile, had started playing truth or dare. After Ciara pulled the largest bra she could find over her head like a hat, Belle decreed that they were only allowed to play truth or go wait in the car.

Truth or go wait in the car wasn't such a bad game considering how little Allie and her cousins knew about each other. Allie learned that Claire was the only diver on her school's swim team and that Ciara's father sometimes called her his rebel without a clue. Claire had had a liver transplant as a baby and still took anti-rejection medication; Ciara had the best singing voice in the family and could usually memorize the lyrics to a song after hearing it only once.

"Best day ever?" asked Ciara as Allie's trial finally ended and Belle went off to return what hadn't fit and purchase what had.

Claire talked about a trip that she and her parents and brother had taken to Paris the summer before.

Allie told them about sneaking out of her guardian's house and meeting Theo on the roof. Claire and Ciara knew Theo and were an excellent audience; they gasped and giggled in exactly the right places, and told Allie that her taste in crushes was excellent.

"What about you?" Allie asked Ciara as they wandered toward the register where Belle was waiting in line.

Ciara spoke in a hushed voice. "Once, when I was twelve," she began, making *twelve* sound like it was a world away from her current fourteen, "my mother moved in with a man who liked to have sex with twelve year olds. She didn't know at the time, of course. And then I walked up to her boyfriend in front of a hundred people who all knew, and they gasped and stared at me. None of them could keep their eyes off of me. It was great."

"It was great?" Allie asked around the lightness in her head and the lump in her throat. She didn't want to imagine having a hundred people know what EJ had done to her, and she was certain that it wouldn't be great. Unconsciously, she wrapped her arms around herself. "Did he ever—did he—what did your mum do? Does everyone at your school know? Does— is he still around?"

It was Claire who answered, because Ciara seemed unexpectedly speechless. "She was in a play in Chicago last summer. It's about a woman who confronts the man who had sex with her when she was twelve. He tells her that he never did anything like that again, but then at the end Ciara's character walks out. Ciara's an actress. It was a play, it wasn't real."

Allie felt heat rush to her face. This was worse than talking about someone helping her put on a bra. It didn't matter that she had decided not to tell. People knew. People thought it was a joke.

She had only just managed to make herself stop blushing when Aunt Belle returned and told them that their shopping day was over.

When Allie had been dropped off at Will's house and Ciara had been dropped off at her parents' house, Claire climbed from the backseat to the front and watched her mother as she steered the car to the Kiriakis Mansion.

"Long day, huh, baby?" Belle asked. She took her right hand from the steering wheel and caressed Claire's cheek. "What do you think of Allie?"

"I wanted to talk to you about that," said Claire carefully, relieved that her mother had given her the opening.

"Is something wrong?"

"Philip told me that if anything happened with Allie, anything strange, I had to come to him. But I don't think I can say this to him, or to Daddy."

Belle's blue eyes flickered with concern. "Say what?"

"Ciara told Allie about the play she was in—the one with the child molester."

"Blackbird."

"Right. Except she said it like it happened to her, not like she was an actress, and Allie got really upset."

"Upset how?"

"She was asking all these questions, and her voice was shaking, her whole body was shaking, and she got all… blushy, and you know how it looked like she was scared when you told her about getting a bra and she didn't want anyone to touch her. Philip told Ci and me that Allie had a rough life and we shouldn't ask about it, but did EJ DiMera rape her?"

TBC