Chapter 1

The First Year

"Mother is the name for God in the lips and hearts of little children."

- William Makepeace Thackeray

The First Year...

The loud wail of a newborn echoed off every wall. For what felt like the millionth time that night, Steve was forced to roll off the couch in the Curtis living room and pad over to the small bassinet that served as Bethany's crib. He groaned as he reached down and picked the fussy newborn up.

"What's wrong?" he asked the tiny child, rocking her in his arms. She fussed and fussed and for the millionth time, Steve couldn't help but wish Jo-Anna or Mary were still alive. They were so good with babies. Steve, on the other hand, had no idea what he was doing.

"Stop crying, please," he begged in an exhausted tone. The baby just kept on crying.

"Need a hand?" Darry asked tiredly, having been woken by the child's wails. Darry, who had little experience with babies himself, seemed to be one of the few people who could quiet the child.

"Please," Steve nodded. He handed the newborn to Darry, who began pacing the room, rocking her gently back and forth while whispering sweet nothing's to her. Eventually she calmed down enough to be rocked back to sleep, much to Steve's relief.

"How long 'fore she sleeps through the night?" he mused, not really expecting an answer.

"Maybe a month, maybe six," Darry said, remembering back to when Ponyboy was born. "Some babies are good sleepers, some aren't."

"Great," Steve muttered.

"You'll see, you'll be able to get her to fall asleep in no time," he reassured Steve, who had a look of defeat on his face. "Why don't you crash in my room? I'll get up if she cries again."

"Aw, man, I can't ask ya to do that," Steve said tiredly. She was his kid. His responsibility. He wasn't gonna be like his ol' man and pawn her off on anyone that'd watch her.

"You need sleep too, Steve. It's been a week and you've been up more than any of us," Darry said knowingly. "Besides, Meg should be here real early to take the girls off our hands for a while," he added. Meg was his new girlfriend, a real pretty thing with bleach blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She was middle class at best, but never once looked down on us so she was alright. She was going to take Michelle and Bethany out to the country for the weekend, since the we and the Socs had some 'talking' to do that Saturday.

"Still man," Steve said, his tone that of a broken man. "She's my kid, I got 'er."

"Steve, I know what you're tryin' to do, and trust me, take the offer," Darry said, a hint of authority in his voice. Steve finally nodded and padded down the hall, his socked feet making light thuds against the old floorboards.

Darry laid on the couch, the tiny infant on his chest, much like he'd done the few times he managed to convince Steve to sleep or shower or eat. Bethany cuddled into his chest, her lips puckered as she slept peacefully.

A soft footfall caught Darry's attention a few minutes later. He glanced in the general direction of the noise to see a very disheveled looking Michelle rubbing her eyes tiredly.

"Have I ever mentioned I never want kids?" she muttered as she passed Darry on her way to the kitchen. The light over the sink flicked on as she started doing the dishes from the night before. Darry looked at the old grandfather clock across the room. Just after four in the morning. Michelle had school in the morning and Darry knew he should scold her for being awake, but in the same breath, he didn't have the heart to do so. Michelle was taking the loss of her sisters harder than anyone had imagined and he found it amazing she was even functioning, much less begging to go back to school so soon. It had only been a week since the accident. He remembered back to losing his parents and how it took almost a month to get both Soda and Pony back to their usual selves, or at least close to it.

"What's with all the noise?" a sleepy voice asked. Darry turned his eyes away from the kitchen to see Soda walking up behind him, a shit eating grin on his face.

"Did Beth wake Pony?" Darry asked, a hint of concern in his voice. After losing Mary, Ponyboy had nightmares all over again, these ones, however, he could remember. Pony was taking this loss a lot harder than anyone.

"No," Soda said softly. He reached over and scooped Beth off Darry's lap, cradling her in his arms. "This little angel," he cooed softly. "Didn't wake anyone except maybe you and Mickey," he said with a grin. "Mickey woke me up when she tripped over the pile of clothes on our floor."

Michelle had taken the spare bed in the room Ponyboy and Soda once again shared. She couldn't stand the thought of sleeping in her own room just yet. No one had been in the house behind the Curtis home since the accident, except the first morning to retrieve clothes for Michelle and Steve. It was too hard. There were way too many memories.

"Try to coax her back to bed," Darry said softly as Soda laid the sleeping baby in her bassinet. Soda nodded and quietly walked into the kitchen where he exchanged a few words with Michelle before pushing her back towards their room. Darry couldn't help but smile. Soda had a way with people, that was for sure.

Without much else to do, Darry managed to catch a few more hours of sleep before Beth started fussing around six. Darry had to be up anyway, so by then, he wasn't too upset about having to change a diaper at the crack of dawn.

I felt my eyes water as my dad told me everything. My hand reached for the thin gold chain that held my mother's wedding rings. They had been a gift from my dad when I turned thirteen. It seemed impossible to believe that I would never meet her. I would never be able to share the important memories with her. I would never know what her voice sounded like or what her hugs felt like. I wanted to cry, but for my father's sake, I didn't. I learned early on that whenever I cried, it hurt him more than I could ever understand.

"You have her eyes," my dad said softly as he planted a kiss on the top of my head, much like he did when I was a child. "You have her smile too. And her voice. When you sing, you bring life into the hearts of anyone listening."

"Really?" I asked, my eyes widening. "What did she used to sing?"

"Your mom used to sing the most special songs," he said, his tone sad, a faraway look in his eyes. "She always found a song to fit the moment..."