Lucas stood beside his credenza, holding a small brandy snifter in one hand and a photograph of himself and Jenny on the beach at Grand Isle, Louisiana, in the other. It was the Summer of 1890 and the last full Summer they had experienced together. He recalled building sandcastles with her and comforting her when she got her finger pinched by a baby crab. They had often traveled to the beach when he was a child, and they'd play in the Gulf of Mexico, enjoying the warm salty air and later watching the tide roll in. Those were the happiest moments of his childhood, in truth, the only childhood he had, for after the traumatic event the following year, he no longer had the carefree spirit of a child and was expected to behave much older than his years should allow.

Elizabeth watched him with concern, occasionally looking to Bennett, who calmed her somewhat with a reassuring nod. But she couldn't help but worry. She knew that Lucas had always shielded her from his darkest thoughts, choosing instead to deal with them on his own. Now, she knew why. A lifetime of subversion would need to be overcome, but it was a challenge she was willing to face – to show Lucas he was loved and that he would always have someone by his side with whom it was safe to confide.

The door to the office soon opened, and all eyes turned that way.

"We've returned," Martin said, leading Helen in by the hand back to the settee so they could resume what they were doing. As soon as all were reseated, Martin turned to Lucas. "Before we begin, your mother has something she would like to say."

Lucas nodded, then gave Helen his rapt attention. She struggled with looking at him, and her eyes reflected a combination of shame and embarrassment.

"I would like to apologize," she said softly. "My response to your news about my daughter was inappropriate as was running away as I did. I am sorry."

Lucas smiled a forced smile that didn't travel to his eyes. "It's fine," he responded.

"Is it?" Dr. Bennett asked, stepping away from the corner where he'd been observing. He walked toward the two couples and pulled up a chair. "Is it really…fine?"

"Why would it not be?" Helen blinked. "In this family, we forgive."

"And, forgiveness is a good thing," Bennett responded, "if consideration has been given to the offense and an understanding of its effect on the aggrieved party is acquired by both the offender and the offendee. There is freedom in forgiveness, and in understanding, one finds the necessary framework for avoiding harmful behavior in the future. But what I have observed in the short time I've been in Hope Valley is that your entire family does not follow that pattern. Instead, you do as many do- playing a role in your own personal drama with superficial politeness and avoiding anything distasteful. Tell me, Helen, was Lucas's performance satisfactory?"

"I'm sorry?" she responded.

"Did he say his lines right, or is there something he needs to work on to perfect his character for the next time you misbehave?"

"Now, sir!" Martin exclaimed.

"How dare you!" Helen said angrily.

"I'm simply sharing my professional opinion," Bennett responded.

"You're being impudent," Helen replied. "And we don't have to stay here and listen."

"Mrs. Bouchard," Elizabeth interjected.

"How many times do I need to tell you, Elizabeth? It's Helen!" she snapped.

Elizabeth pursed her lips and then looked her future mother-in-law in the eyes. "I believe I will stick with Mrs. Bouchard for now."

Helen clamped her mouth shut.

"Mrs. Bouchard, Lucas has been through so much turmoil after what happened with Jenny…."

"And you think I didn't suffer?"

"That wasn't my point," Elizabeth responded firmly. "Of course, you suffered, but so did he, and so did your husband.

You once commended me for my ability to be completely honest about things, and you lamented your own tendency toward the opposite. If you truly care about your family's well-being, it's important to be honest now. Your daughter is alive. You have an amazing opportunity for a fresh start – a second chance. When you find her, don't you want her to come home to the healthiest family situation possible?"

"Of course, I do," Helen said. "But if Lucas responded, 'it's fine' when it wasn't…how is that lack of honesty my responsibility?"

"Because we've trained him that way," Martin responded. "In our household, that boy has never been afforded the opportunity to be truly honest about anything he was going through. Helen, your feelings were always protected. Ours were secondary."

"I never demanded that," Helen responded.

"No," Martin replied. "It was a pattern that we fell into. After Jenny's kidnapping and your subsequent illness, we became protective of you by necessity. Initially, I am afraid I imposed that upon our son, warning him not to say anything that might upset you. We had already suffered one loss, and I didn't wish to lose you as well. My shortfall is that I failed to recognize the impact that imposition was having upon Lucas, forcing him to carry a burden he was never meant to bear. For that, I am profoundly sorry."

"Well, he seemed alright," Helen said. "We never had a moment's trouble..."

"No!" Lucas interrupted. Every eye turned in his direction.

"No?" Helen asked, wrinkling her brow.

Lucas looked at her. "I wasn't alright. How could I be? I felt it was my fault that Jenny was gone, and our family was destroyed. I knew it was because of my inability to save her that we couldn't be happy as we once were. I missed my sister and had nobody that I could talk to. I also knew you felt it would have been better if it had been me, so I..."

"What?!" Helen exclaimed. "Whatever are you talking about?"

The lump in Lucas's throat prevented an immediate answer as tears flooded his eyes. He lowered his head, sniffing back emotion. Finally, he spoke, almost in a whisper. "Why did it have to be her?" he said.

The room remained quiet until Dr. Bennett ended the silence. "Is that what you were thinking, Lucas? When Jenny died?" he said softly.

Lucas didn't respond directly but instead relayed a glimpse of what was going through his mind. "I remember that day vividly," he said, staring at the floor.

When he offered no more, Bennett prompted again. "To clarify, you had the thought, 'Why did it have to be her? Is that correct?'"

"No," Helen responded. "Those were my last spoken words after they told us Jenny was dead." She looked toward her son, who was now staring her way. "Lucas…"

"I tried hard to be a good son, Mother. I did. But those words haunted me," he said, his eyes not leaving hers as she gazed into the pain reflected from inside. "It is a difficult thing for a child to understand that his mother wishes he would have died instead of his sister, but for a time, I agreed with you. I wished it would have been me as well."

"Lucas! Don't even suggest such a thing! That's what you thought all these years?" she asked in surprise.

"Those were your words..." Lucas said, his eyes brimming with sadness.

"But that isn't what I meant!" Helen said, shaking her head.

"That's what I heard. That's what you said."

"No! No, Lucas! I wished it hadn't happened to Jenny. For goodness sake, child, I didn't wish it would have happened to you! How on earth could you think that? I was hysterical with grief!" she replied.

Lucas stared at her for a moment, then shook and bowed his head. Elizabeth reached for his hand.

"Martin, you were there. You know how things were," she said, turning toward her husband.

"Helen, hush," he responded. "Son, tell me, what would have given you the idea that your mother wished it would have been you?"

Several seconds passed before Lucas responded. "Her words, her actions, how she blamed me and rejected me afterward. It was all very obvious that she didn't want me around."

"That's not true!" she said.

"Mother, you wouldn't even look at me. Were you even aware at night when I heard you crying that I would bring my blanket and pillow to sleep on the floor outside your door? I was waiting, hoping for a hug like Grand-mère used to give us when we were upset. I spent many nights crying into my pillow because I believed your pain was my fault. I thought perhaps if I could help you- somehow make amends- then it might restore our relationship, but since you stayed locked up in your room, you were oblivious to my needs. Over time, I realized that there was a wall between us, and in my child's mind, I believed I had put it there by letting Jenny be taken. That I deserved what I was receiving. As I grew, I tried to be a good son, one you would be proud of and love, but the distance you put between us only increased, leaving me feeling inadequate."

"Lucas, you are anything but inadequate," Helen responded.

"You say that now, but I never felt important to you back then."

"I was a good mother dealing with a terrible situation." The words were far from helpful. "You simply misunderstood."

Lucas closed his eyes and then stood to his feet. "I think we are finished here. Elizabeth, let's go."

Elizabeth stood and hurried to catch up with her fiancé as he walked through the office door. Helen and Martin stood as well.

"Are you just going to let him leave?!" Helen said, gesturing toward the door and looking to Bennett to stop him.

James remained seated. "I believe I will," he responded.

Helen's eyes widened. "After you stood in judgment of me for doing the very same thing?! What kind of doctor are you?"

Bennett stood. "Lucas has done the hard work today by being open about his feelings. You, on the other hand, deflected, minimized his feelings, and denied doing everything but open yourself to scrutiny."

"But he was wrong!"

"And so were you," the doctor replied. "Our session for today is complete." He said, picking up a notebook into which he had been making notes and heading toward the door. Bennett stopped at the room's exit and turned a quarter turn. "If you both want to do some homework before we meet tomorrow, consider meditating upon what you saw today. Set aside your own experiences and try to put yourself in the place of a seven-year-old boy. Lucas's conclusions may not have been true, but they were true to him. And while your own grief certainly influenced your actions, if this family is to experience true healing, you will all need to find a way to get past that and reclaim what the years have stolen. Have a good evening. I will see you tomorrow."

Elizabeth walked briskly behind him as Lucas made his way to the car, muttering words under his breath the entire way. She'd never seen him in such a state and was simply trying to keep up. They stopped at his car, and she was surprised when he had the wherewithal to remember to open and close the door for her before going to the driver's side.

"That woman is never going to change!" he said. "She can only see things from her own perspective, and heaven help the man or woman who dares to challenge her! Always turning everything into a personal affront – never listening to anything others say – always shielding herself from the least amount of…..what?" he asked, noticing Elizabeth staring at him.

"Are you going to be okay?" she asked.

Lucas took a deep breath. "Yes. I am." He chortled. "Here I am, sounding like an underpaid washerwoman receiving another load of dirty laundry. What you must think of the family you're marrying into."

"I think I love you and want to see you happy."

"You think you love me?"

"Oh!" Elizabeth said, giving him a playful shove.

Lucas leaned toward her and kissed her. "Thank you for standing up for me. As you probably noticed, that hasn't happened much in my life."

"Not even from your father?" she asked.

"Some," he replied. "When I was older, and our talks were more man-to-man, he would step in and say something. I believe he knew that to have a happy, fulfilled life; I would somehow have to break free. He encouraged my growth and exploration of various avenues, and he gave me a lot of advice on topics such as investments, career, and, of course, how to choose a mate."

Elizabeth pursed her lips. "Did I match his instructions?"

He shook his head. "Not entirely. He couldn't have imagined the wonder you are. However, you do resemble some of what he advised."

"For instance?"

"For instance, he told me to marry someone I enjoyed talking to because after the beauty fades, we would need that to be happy. He also told me to strive to be a man worthy of her."

"Well, you 've certainly done that," Elizabeth said.

Lucas smiled. "I'm not sure about that. But I want to be," he said, looking off into the distance and finally starting the car.

As he looked behind him to see if any traffic was coming, Elizabeth had an idea.

"Would you like to come over to the house and rest for a while? You could play with Jack or perhaps take a nap to relieve some stress. I could make us dinner."

Lucas thought for a moment, then shook his head. "No. No quiet night at home," he said, shifting the car into gear and then putting it in park once more.

"What are you going to do?"

He turned to her. "I wish to have a party," he said. "My sister is alive, and I want to celebrate that fact. I can have Gustave create something for us to eat, and we can play the victrola. We can have Lee and Rosemary and Bill, and of course Henry, and definitely Nathan."

"Tonight?" Elizabeth asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Yes!" he replied, stepping out of the car. "Some may have availability issues on such short notice," he said, walking around the car. "But we'll take who we can get. Just a small, intimate gathering? May I use your rowhouse?"

"Of course," she said, giving a half smile as he walked back toward the saloon.

"Wait right here. I will tell Gustave, and then I'll drive you home."

"Mama, why did we have to move?" young Jo said. I liked it in Pleasant Orchard."

"Because, baby, we weren't safe there anymore," Jenny said, helping her daughter unpack clothes into a dust-covered dresser, carefully conserving on space since she and her children would have to share a room in their smaller accommodations.

"Was the bad man there?" Jo asked.

"It wasn't the bad man," Luke said, carrying in a suitcase of clothes and setting it on a bed with a mattress stuffed with straw.

"How do you know, Luke?" Jenny asked. "You've never seen him."

"No, but you told us that he was someone who tried to hurt you when you were a little girl."

"That's right."

"This man was too young, more like your age. And rich. He drove a fancy car."

Jenny tilted her head. "Really? What did he look like? Did he say anything?"

"He was tall and had a beard. He said, 'Excuse me.' We ran into each other while I carried some boxes for Grandmother."

"Was he scary?" Jo asked.

"Not at all. He seemed nice."

"I wonder why Nan thought he was after us?" Jenny said. She frowned and shook her head. She was no stranger to suddenly packing up and moving for one reason or another. Generally, it involved Solomon's exploits, but since she was a child, she recalled moments when the Drakes would pack everything up at a moment's notice to avoid the man who refused to buy her – the one who wanted her dead. She was always unsure why he would think they were up in Canada, particularly since Solomon often went under false names. But she assumed he knew. After a while, she just stopped questioning.

"I think that's it," Lydia said, walking into the room, having returned from the outside. "I parked the wagon down the bend just inside that cave. It should be out of sight. We have enough provisions to last us a week, then maybe you and Luke can head to town and buy us some canned goods."

"Why would Mama go to town if that bad man is around?" Jo asked.

Jenny turned to her daughter. "Because they know what your grandmother looks like. It's been many years since they've seen me. I was close to your age."

"What was it like?" Luke asked. "You never said exactly what happened."

"That's for another time," Lydia interrupted. "You kids get cleaned up. I'll fix us something for dinner."

Lydia turned toward Jenny and frowned. "See if you can find us some firewood. Paps used to keep some out by the shed."

Jenny stared at her a moment, getting the distinct feeling that she didn't want her talking about it to the children – her children. Between that and the fact the man did not match the description of the man who wanted Solomon to kill her, she and Nan needed to talk.

"Helen! Helen, what on earth are you doing? Answer me!" Martin said as Helen Bouchard rummaged through their drawers, haphazardly throwing things into her suitcase. Finally, he shut the suitcase lid so she couldn't load any more into it.

She glared at him. "Kindly remove your hand!"

Martin stepped away, having seen that look before, and sat on the bed. "Would you like to tell me what you're doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm packing our things."

He raised one eyebrow and crossed his arms. "And why, pray tell, are you doing that?"

She stopped. "Because I will not stay where I am not wanted. You were there! You saw how Lucas treated me! He showed no care, no respect – and after I went through the trouble of apologizing for walking out. I should have just kept on walking!"

Martin sighed. "That's what you got out of that session?"

"Session? That was no session. That was an opportunity for our son to attack me for being the best mother I knew how to be."

"Lucas didn't attack you."

"Really? He practically accused me of neglecting him all of those years. And you, you were no help whatsoever. It shouldn't surprise me that you're taking his side. You always did put him above me!"

Martin sucked in his cheeks, then pressed his hands to his thighs and stood. He walked to the drawer, began pulling out items, and carried them to the suitcase. After a couple of trips like that, Helen looked up.

"What are you doing? Work on your own bag," she said.

Martin stopped. "I'm not going with you."

She stepped back. "What do you mean, you have to…."

"I don't have to do anything other than support my child – my children…." He responded. "Helen, when I came back to you, you told me that things were going to change, that you would get help, that you would go to therapy, that we could work through our issues."

"I've been busy. Besides, I'm not sure what that has to do with anything," she said, picking up some of the clothes he'd just put in the suitcase and refolding them.

"You're still doing it. You're still avoiding anything that makes you uncomfortable without regard for what impact you're having on anyone else. When I was in Europe, you knew it was important for me to have you at my side when I met with foreign dignitaries. Some of those countries are highly sensitive to family relationships, and not having you with me at parties made my work with them that much harder. They figured if my wife didn't respect me, why should they?"

"Again, I do not see what that has to do with anything."

"No, Helen. You don't see. You don't see anything because you refuse to look outside yourself. Just like you refuse to see that we nearly destroyed that boy, and it's but by the grace of God that he's turned out as well as he has. You are self-absorbed and have no empathy toward anyone, including your son. That boy – that man, for that's what he has become, a man we can be proud of – poured out his heart to you, and yes, it was hard and painful, but it was the truth, something you seem aversive to. Well, it is your choice to live that way. I refuse to do so any longer," he said, walking toward the door.

"What are you doing?!" she said with alarm.

"I'm going to the front desk and asking them to find me another room. And then, when I return to Montreal, I will speak with an attorney. I am no longer putting up with your selfish attitude. You refuse to listen to anyone or get help, so my dear lady, I will leave you to yourself. Good day," he said, walking through the door and leaving Helen standing in stunned silence.

Bill Avery stopped and looked at Lee Coulter as the two men stood in front of Coulter's rowhouse, both on their way to Elizabeth's for the last-minute get-together to which they'd been summonsed. Modern ragtime music emanated through the windows, and laughter could be heard from the street.

Bill looked confused. "Did you know about this party?"

Lee shook his head. "No. From what I understand, it was called at the last minute. I was just over there. Rosemary asked me to bring her her sweater," he said, holding the garment up. "You heard about Lucas's sister, right?"

"That she's alive?" Bill replied. "Yes. She hasn't been found, has she?"

"No," Lee said as the two men began to walk. "Lucas just wanted to celebrate."

"I suppose that makes sense," Avery responded as they ascended the stairs.

Lee knocked on the door. "Oh, I have to warn you. It's a little crazy in there."

"Crazy?"

The door opened, and a laughing Elizabeth looked at her guests, wiping tears from her eyes. "Bill! Welcome! Welcome to comedy hour," she said, snickering as she stepped to the side.

Avery frowned and furrowed his brow as he walked into Elizabeth's house. Rosemary was seated on the couch, and Elizabeth quickly returned to her chair across from her while Nathan and Lucas sat at the kitchen table laughing. Little Jack was with them, sitting on Lucas's lap, and Henry was standing next to the stove, drinking a glass of water. He looked at Bill and chuckled, raising his glass.

Lee handed his wife her sweater and stood beside Avery.

"So, you know why the safari guide had to go to confession, don't you?" Nathan asked.

"No, why?" Lucas replied.

"Because he was caught lion," he said, making a roaring motion with his mouth.

Jack started giggling.

"Get it? Lion – lying."

"I've got it," Lucas said. "My turn. This one should hit close to home. Do you know why Mountie Horses aren't permitted to participate in the Kentucky Derby?"

Nathan thought for a moment. "No. Why?"

"Because they inevitably serge ahead."

Nathan guffawed, and Lucas's shoulders shook as Bill and Lee turned toward one another straight-faced. Lee simply shrugged, then walked away. Nathan looked over at his friend, who was still standing there, squint-eyed.

"Hey, Bill! Glad you could make it! Join in the fun!" he said, offering Avery a chair.

"Fun?" he responded.

"Yeah! We're just sitting here telling jokes. I never knew Lucas was so hilarious," Nathan replied.

"Me? You're the funny one!" Lucas said.

Henry looked toward Elizabeth and smirked, then set his glass down, crossing his arms and enjoying the show.

"Not as funny as you," Nathan replied.

Lucas shook his head. "I'm not that funny. As a matter of fact, I recall telling a joke to Bill and Lee that Gustave told me, and they didn't think it was funny at all. Must have been my delivery."

"Really?" Nathan said. "Let's hear it."

"Let's not," Bill replied, sitting now.

"Awe, come on, Bill. Don't be such a spoilsport," Nathan said, lightly smacking Avery's arm with the back of his hand.

"Yeah! Don't be a spoiled sport!" Jack said, leaning forward.

Elizabeth raised her eyebrow, and Lucas leaned down and whispered in Jack's ear, "Mountie Nathan was right, it's spoilsport, and you shouldn't speak that way to an adult. It's not respectful."

"But Mountie Nathan said it."

"He said it in jest. Say you're sorry."

"I'm sorry," Jack replied sincerely.

Bill nodded. "That's alright. Maybe I was a bit of a spoilsport. Let's hear it again."

"The joke?" Lucas asked.

"Yes. The one about the giraffe, I'm assuming," Bill replied.

Lucas shook his head. "No, I'll just ruin it."

"Go ahead and tell us," Henry said. "I want to hear it."

Lucas looked toward Elizabeth, who nodded in encouragement. He shrugged. "Alright, but I warn you, Lee and Bill didn't find it funny at all. It's a little long."

"That's okay," Nathan said.

Lucas took a deep breath.

"Alright, there once was a little boy, we'll call him Petey, and it was Petey's birthday. Petey's parents told him that they would get him anything he wanted for his birthday, anything at all. So, Petey looked around at what his friends were getting and saw that Timmy got a toy train, Bobby got a puppy, and little Charlie got the biggest gift, a pony. So, not wishing to be outdone, Petey turned to his parents and told them he wanted a pet giraffe."

"A giraffe?" Jack asked with wide eyes.

Elizabeth grinned as she watched her son, concentrating on every word that Lucas was saying. Yes, Rosemary was right. Lucas was going to be a wonderful father.

"So, his parents fulfilled their promise and bought Petey a baby Giraffe. And Petey was so happy. Petey and his giraffe played every day, and soon Petey learned that his giraffe had a very unique ability. Petey's giraffe could talk!"

"Really?" Jack said.

"Indeed," Lucas replied. "Time came and went, and Petey's giraffe started growing. And as he grew, it became more and more difficult for the family to care for him. Giraffes eat a lot, and it's hard to bathe them in such cramped quarters, so they needed to do something. So, Petey had an idea. To pay for the giraffe's upkeep, they would have the giraffe get a job working at the circus, which worked out very well. The giraffe worked at the circus during the day and stayed with Petey and his family during nights and weekends. But pretty soon, they had another problem. Do you know what it is?"

Jack shook his head.

"The giraffe became too big to even fit in Petey's house. The parents told Petey he'd have to get rid of the giraffe, but Petey had a better idea. Build the giraffe his very own house. And that's just what they did.

The giraffe's house had thirty-foot-tall ceilings with windows at the top for the giraffe to look out of and to open when he needed some air. It had cabinets at least ten feet tall – large enough to store his food and high enough that he wouldn't have to bend over to get things. It even had a table in it that was fifteen feet high, which was perfect for the young giraffe to eat at. The giraffe thought it was perfect! In fact, that giraffe was so pleased with the new accommodations that he wanted to pay Petey and his parents back. So, he had an idea.

The giraffe took every penny he had saved from working at the circus, hired a builder, and used the same blueprint to build a whole row of houses just like his house. He then consulted an agent to help him sell the houses. The agent looked at house prices in the neighborhood and, given the special deluxe features the giraffe had installed in his house, put the homes on the market for twenty percent higher than the average price for a house in that neighborhood. The giraffe was unsure of this price but relied on the agent's expertise. So, they put the homes up for sale and set up an open house."

Henry made his way over to Bill, who was sitting with his arms crossed, knowing what was coming. Gowan leaned down. "Is this story going to go on much longer?" he asked.

"Just wait 'til you hear the punch line," Bill replied.

"On the first day, a stream of people came to see the house, mostly out of curiosity," Lucas continued. "You see, they had seen the house from the outside and how high it was and how it had windows at the top, which was highly unusual. They assumed that the homes had multiple floors because why else would someone have a building that high with windows at the top? But when they got inside, they discovered the truth. It was a one-floor house with cabinetry and furniture custom-made for a giraffe. The day ended, and sadly there were no sales."

Rosemary leaned over to Elizabeth, "This is a really lonnnng joke."

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. "Pardon the pun?"

Rosie chuckled.

"The second day came," Lucas said, "and again, a long line of curious people stopped by to see what these oddly shaped houses were all about. They came. They saw. They left, with nobody making an offer. The giraffe was very nervous because he had invested his entire savings into these homes.

'Are you sure they'll sell?' he asked.

'Don't worry,' said the agent. 'They'll sell.'

The third day comes, and again, a big stream of people but no offers. By now, the giraffe feels sick. He couldn't understand why nobody wanted to buy his perfect house. Finally, toward the end of the day, right before they were about to go home, the giraffe pulled a final potential customer to the side. He bent down, looked at the man, and began asking him questions.

'Tell me, good sir,' he said. 'Why is it that you aren't making an offer on my house? Is it the paint color? Or perhaps the type of wood? Is the style out of date? Tell me, I need to know.'

The customer looked at the giraffe and said, 'Oh no, kind giraffe. All of that's fine. The reason I won't make you an offer is simply that your house is too tall for my tastes.'

The giraffe was angry and felt deceived, not at the man but the agent. After the customer left, he turned to find the agent who was locking up. He said to him, 'You deceived me! You told me these houses were so unique that offers would be flooding in left and right, but that wasn't true. I invested all of my savings, believing you."

The agent replied. "Well, the real estate market is often unpredictable."

"I understand that," he replied.

And then the giraffe said, "But at these prices, we won't sell any!"

Lucas motioned with his hands, indicating his story was over, then looked toward Nathan and Jack for their response. Grant thought for just a minute, his head tilting back and forth as he thought through the elements of the story. Then, he began to chuckle. "Ohhhh….the guy said the house was too tall for his tastes, and the giraffe thought….ha! Ha, ha!" Nathan started to laugh, and Lucas laughed with him. Soon the two men were howling and slapping each other on the shoulders. Jack and Elizabeth were laughing simply because the two men were laughing. One of the two snorted, and Rosemary began to laugh.

Henry turned to Bill. "I don't get it."

Bill rolled his eyes.

"Oh! That's hilarious!" Nathan said. "You sure you don't want a second career in Vaudeville?"

"Bill and Lee didn't think it was funny," Lucas replied.

"Yeah, some people just don't have a sense of humor," Nathan replied. "No offense," he added, looking to Bill and Lee.

"Oh, none taken," Coulter replied, looking to Bill and Henry and then whistling as he returned to the couch.

Elizabeth turned to Rosemary and chuckled. Who'd have thought those two men would find something to bond over – bad jokes?

The fun continued throughout the evening, and at a little before nine, they carried the party outside. While the rest of the group sat around a campfire drinking hot chocolate, Nathan and Bill had an opportunity to discuss the case.

"So, have you heard any more from the New Orleans P.D.?" Nathan asked.

Bill nodded. "Their guy was supposed to have taken tonight's train from New Orleans to Chicago and from there to Union City. His name is Captain Thomas Martyn, and he's supposedly an expert on this subject in the New Orleans area. He figures that he'll be here in about three days."

"Sending one of their experts?" he said. "Do they think we can't investigate on our own?"

"Something about protecting the chain of custody for the records since it's part of a larger investigation that to this day remains open," Avery replied.

"I guess that makes sense," Nathan said. "I wish we knew where she was and why she ran. She looks like she can hold her own, though. She's survived a lot."

"You seem to be taking a special interest in her," Bill replied.

Nathan shrugged. "It's 'cause of Lucas. I never thought I'd say this, but he's really a good guy. I just want things to work out for him, that's all."

"I think we all do," Bill responded.

Jenny tucked her kids into bed. Jo would be sleeping with her and Luke on a makeshift cot they'd pulled together on the other side of the room. She wasn't fond of the arrangement. Her children should have their own rooms as she did as a child. Things were so much different then.

XXXXX

"Lucas! Come and see! I see Swan Lake from my room," five-year-old Jenny said as she stood on the balcony outside her bedroom the day after moving into their family's new home. She was looking out across the family's garden to a small pond just beyond the Myrtle trees, which were in bloom.

Lucas walked into her bedroom. "That's lovely. I like my view as well. With the telescope that Father brought home, I can see Lapin de Lune."

"There isn't a bunny on the moon, is there?"

"There sure is! Grand-Père told me it was lost in the woods being chased by a great big hound and was about to get caught when it jumped as high as it could, which was all the way to the moon. Now it uses the moon's light to help others from getting lost."

"That's a very nice bunny," she said.

"Very nice indeed."

XXXXX

Jenny smiled as she shut the door reveling in the memory of her happy time, which stood in stark contrast to where she was now - one of Solomon's hideouts, most of which were barely a place of shelter but good enough for a man on the run with a woman and two children whom he abused. Solomon's abuse of Jenny always amounted to hitting, nothing more. Lydia wouldn't have allowed it. Her 'foster mother' had always stepped in to protect her, as no doubt she was doing now.

Jenny entered the main room and saw Lydia sleeping in a chair by the fireplace, the good book in her lap as she'd seen so many times before. Jenny stepped toward her to remove the book before it fell on the floor, and Lydia woke up.

She smiled slightly. "Must have fallen asleep."

"It's been a long day," Jenny replied. "One of many."

"That it is."

Jenny took a seat in a chair across from her. "You never did explain what you saw that caused us to move this time. The man that Luke described was too young to be the man who wanted to kill me."

"I figured he could be his son."

"With that kind of money? I don't think so."

"He asked about New Orleans. How many people know we're from New Orleans?"

"My family does. They live there."

"Your family is here," Lydia said. "We're your family now. Me, Luke, and Josephine. And as long as I have breath, I will do what I can to ensure this family stays alive."

Jenny nodded, then sat back in her chair, looking into the fire as she considered what she wanted to say. Finally, she determined she'd just speak. "Nan, I know I owe you my life – more than once, actually. But this is not how I want to raise my children. I want them to have a normal life, where we can live in a modest home in a friendly town and not have to be looking over our shoulders. And I don't want to hide things from them."

"What are you hiding?"

"Well, earlier today, when Luke asked me what happened when I was taken, you wouldn't let me finish…"

"It's for our protection. Hope…."

"Jenny," she said. "Behind closed doors, I would prefer to be called by my real name, Jenny Bouchard."

Lydia frowned. "Jenny, the less those children know about that time, the better. If they were to slip in someone else's presence and he was to come after you…."

"Nan, we can't run forever. And now that Solomon is gone, I was thinking, perhaps I could go back."

"Back where?"

"To New Orleans, to find my family. I'm sure they worried about me. I wouldn't leave you behind. I'd…."

"What on earth are you talking about, girl? We remove you from Hell, and you want to return to the devil? Do you need me to remind you of what happened to Hank and why we ran so much as we did? There were three witnesses to what happened, Solomon, Hank, and you. That man killed Hank in his jail cell, and who knows, maybe he had a part in your Pap's death too. Going back to try to find your family would only put you and your children in danger, and if the Bouchards still live in Louisiana, them too. Stop that foolish talk. You know better."

Jenny lowered her head. "I suppose you're right. But the truth still stands. We can't go on living this way. I'm not going to deprive my children of the life they deserve, and now that Paps is gone, we must find a way to stop running. Don't you want to settle down someplace nice? Someplace you can be free and not in this prison?"

"More than you could ever know," Lydia replied.

"Then we have a choice to make. We can live free or die in a prison of our own making. What's the Word say? Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free? Tomorrow I will tell my children about what happened and how you kept their grandfather from killing me."

"Jenny!"

"No, Nan. I'm not hiding anymore. Not from them. We will do all we can to keep them from harm, but I want my children to know who they are and how this came about. I want them to know it all because someday, we aren't going to have to run anymore. And when that day comes, I want them to understand from whence they came."

Martin Bouchard walked to the lampstand, ready to turn the light out to go to sleep. He wasn't as angry as before, but his heart felt heavy over all that had transpired that day, all except that Jenny was alive. They'd not even gotten to enjoy that fact before years of dishonesty and emotional abuse in the family came crashing down on their heads. And now, he was faced with the possible end of his marriage. He knew it would be a sleepless night. He turned toward the door, wanting to make sure it was locked, and it was then he saw an envelope on the floor he hadn't seen before. He wondered how long it had been there.

Bending down, he turned it over and immediately recognized his wife's handwriting. He opened it and unfolded the note inside and read.

I am sorry that I have upset you and do not wish for you to leave.

I am willing to stay and face whatever I must face to restore our family,

Including participating in therapy with you and Lucas.

I know that he was not wrong in everything he said.

Please give me another chance to make this right.

With love, your wife, Helen Bouchard.

Martin sighed and shook his head. Over the years, she'd been famous for her promises to him – promises to go places she never went, take therapy she never took – maybe she meant it this time. It didn't matter. He knew he would do it, that he would try. He'd do it for Lucas. He'd do it for Jenny. And who knows, maybe this time there would be a breakthrough. Perhaps. But for tonight, he'd try to sleep with that hope in mind for the morrow.