Home Again, Home Again, Jiggety Jig

by songbird1970

Back from Europe, the Flynns settle in while doing what they do best.

Home Again, Home Again, Jiggity Jig A Cabin tale Follows The Odyssey

Prologue County Clare, Ireland

Sweetheart, as we bring our trip to a close, I just want to thank you for making it nothing like I expected. We came to celebrate our anniversary, a belated honeymoon. Before we could do that, though, we made something of a mad dash across Italy to find, of all people, my ex-wife. Right now, neither of us are terribly happy with her and while I know we'll work our way through all of that, especially for the kids, again, I wanted to thank you, and tell you how relieved I am that you are okay.
I also want you to know that, all these years later, I choose you. Every single day, I will choose you and I'll choose us, this life and this family we've created together. Because I can count on that, I know the rest will work itself out in time.

All my love,
A

Through a heavy veil of tears, she read the words, so lovely and heartfelt, from the man who often complained that he wasn't good with words. That she could even read his penmanship, well, that was down to decades of practice, reading police reports and field notes.

Sniffing away the moisture, she lifted her eyes to find him standing there, at the foot of the lane leading from their cottage in County Clare to the edge of the green hilltop. They'd enjoyed the stunning view of the valley below for more than two weeks, courtesy of new friends in Italy. The following day, they would fly home, back to their own Rose of Sharon. Their beautiful cabin by the water awaited, as did beloved family and friends. They wouldn't mourn leaving Ireland behind. Having finally made it, they soaked up every ounce of its beauty and would take those memories, frozen in their minds, and gladly return to the home they cherished.

"I choose you, too," she said with another sniff. "Every day, with every word and every act, I will not only put you before myself, but I will put us before you. Nothing will ever matter as much because without it, not much would matter at all. I choose you and our children, grandchildren, and the friends we call family. I choose us all."

From his pocket, he drew a small, delicate band made of glimmering emeralds. Taking her equally delicate hand, he slipped it onto her finger and tucked it snugly against her wedding rings.

"I know emeralds are for twenty years, not ten, but when you look at it, you'll remember our time in Ireland. Plus, I figure you're good for the other ten," he winked.

With a fresh round of tears, she nodded. "As many years as we're given."

Cathedral City, California

And you know what else? I may be locked up in here for God knows how long, but I have friends, you know. Plenty of friends who can get to you. I know all about the kid, okay? She's my kid too and I have a right to see her. You're going to bring her down here to see me or I'm going send one of my not so nice friends to find her. She should be just the right age about now. I'm sure we could find a use for her. I've learned a few things in here. You'd never see her again. Then you'll be down two kids. Understand? Be smart.

Her gut tightened at the words, the handwriting even. His daughter? No. There were a few people who had had a hand in raising her girl, but him? He'd had nothing to do with it whatsoever, and that's exactly as she wanted it. He was no kind of father, no kind of man. It had taken her years to free herself from him. There was no way she'd allow him to sink his teeth into another of her children. It was more than she could tackle herself though. She would need help, and she would need it from the last people on earth who would ever want to help her. That was her fault, too. There was nothing to be done for it. This was about protecting her child. That was something they were very good at, her pride be damned.

"The Flying Monkey"
Big Bear Lake

The road from the highway wound through the towering pines of the San Bernardino National Forest. The sun reached through the leaves to cast intricate patterns on the pavement stretching before them. As the road curved and the house came into view, a smile crept across each of their faces. Yes, it was good to be home.

Andy parked the car in the drive that ran along the side of the house, turned it off, and sat in the silence.

"You okay?" asked his wife.

"I am," he said. "Just holding onto the you and me part of vacation for just another minute. There was a significant lack of you and me for a while there."

"And yet in the midst of it all, we were still together, just like we are here. Remember that."

Leaning across the console, she kissed him soundly.

"To be continued, after the jet lag passes," she said, winking. "And as the arm allows."

They each grabbed for their bags, neither willing to put it off until later, and made their way up the porch steps. Andy carried the heavy suitcases, Sharon a smaller duffles. When the door swung open without warning, they were taken aback.

"Welcome home, darlings," said Maggie. "Supper is ready. All that's missing is you."

Sharon set her bags down on the porch and stepped into her mother's waiting arms, humming as she felt them fold around her. Maggie wasn't getting any younger and it had made the choice to travel more difficult. Arriving home, finding her happy and well, was a relief in and of itself.

Andy walked past them both, pausing to kiss his mother in law's cheek. He was pretty relieved to see her too. He placed the bags against the wall inside the new glass-enclosed sunporch and turned to gather the one his his wife had abandoned, allowing her a moment. Without a doubt, Maggie had been concerned since hearing of the shooting in Italy.

"Welcome home!" sang Patrice, greeting him with a hearty hug of her own. "It's good to have you back. I can't wait to hear all about it," she said. Seeing the fatigue on his face, she chuckled. "But I will. You look beat. How about dinner before you two collapse?"

"Sounds good, Patrice. Thanks. Where's the old man?"

"Outside, on the grill. He and Mark are serving steak. I believe there's a nice swordfish for you," knowing their resident vegetarian would occasionally partake of fish, swordfish being a favorite.

"Sounds very good," he mumbled.

"Thank you, Patrice. Dinner sounds wonderful, almost as wonderful as a bath and bed. I was okay until we left the airport and got in the car to drive home," said Sharon. "Then it hit me."

"That's how it happens," said Patrice. "If you want to shower and change now, we can wait to eat."

"No, no. Once I get out of the tub, I'm putting on one of Andy's old T shirts and climbing into bed. I may not be seen before noon tomorrow," she chuckled.

"That's perfectly understandable, dear girl," said her mother. "Just remember the kids will be here midday to see you."

Sharon leaned heavily against the back the sofa, head drooped forward. At the mention of her children, she grinned. Spring Break. Yes, it was very good to be home.

Dinner was good, the swordfish perfect. His partner wasn't completely useless on the grill, though Andy figured Mark may have pitched in on that front. Louie had come a long way from the menace in the kitchen he used to be, he thought with a smile.

They didn't speak of the shooting, or of Sandra. There would be time for the former and the latter didn't bear discussing.

Carrying a suitcase in each hand, he entered the bedroom he shared with his wife. He set one along the wall, the other on the blanket chest at the foot of the bed. He could hear the water running in the attached bathroom and his smile grew.

Shedding his clothes, he pulled back the shower curtain and admired his bride's form. How it got better with each passing year, he'd never know.

"Can I wash your hair?"

She eyed him over her shoulder. "I'll wash your back."

Oh, how he loved the low alto of her voice.

"You've got yourself a deal, and I know how much you love those. You may have to hold me up."

"Likewise. Let's make it quick and go to bed. We can take our time tomorrow, when we've had some rest."

His first priority, though, was driving his fingers through those auburn locks and pulling her face toward him. He pressed a kiss firmly to her lips and just held her against him. Grateful.

The sun shone warm across the bed long before they awoke the following day. Only the distant sound of giggles did the trick.

Sharon was the first to stir, placing her palm flat against her husband's hip.

"Andy, I hear the babies."

He groaned and opened his eyes, squinting against the brightness of the sun.

"I thought they were going to wait until the afternoon," he sighed.

Her fingers fumbled for her wristwatch, which she'd put on the nightstand the evening before. Lifting to her eyes, then closer still, she squinted at the dial, blind without her glasses.

"Andy!" she exclaimed, sitting up in bed, his hand sliding off of her hip. "It's half past noon!"

She climbed from the bed, crossed the room and closed the bathroom door behind her.

Andy stared at the ceiling, unbelieving. He didn't remember the last time he'd slept that long. He could hear the toilet flush, then the faucet turn on and sat up.

"I guess we're getting up," he said to himself.

He unzipped the suitcase at the foot of the bed, and grabbed a pair of jeans and a T shirt, grateful his wife always insisted on doing laundry before returning from a vacation. Rifling through the neatly folded clothes, he pulled another pair of jeans and one of Sharon's favorite tops, laying both on the bed.

When she emerged, face scrubbed, hair and teeth brushed, she smiled at the clothes waiting on the bed. Meeting Andy halfway, she kissed his cheek and mumbled a sleepy Thank you as he slipped into the bathroom for his turn.

"Don't lift that arm," he grumbled. "I'll help you in a minute."

By the time he emerged again, freshened up and dressed, his wife had donned her clothes and was fussing with the buttons on her blouse. Her husband rolled his eyes and finished them for her, mumbling stubborn. He straightened the sling around her neck and kissed the tip of her nose. Together, they went in search of grandchildren and coffee. In that order.

"Grandma! Grandpa!" they heard, and there was no sweeter sound in all of Europe. Home was definitely the place to be.

"Hello, my darlings," said Sharon, gently leaning forward to accept their hugs and kisses.

They were extremely gentle, she noticed. It brought the sting of tears to her eyes before she shook them away. Such angels they were. Over their heads, she spied their mother, who wore a strange look on her face. Her stomach tightened. Was she angry over the situation with her mother, Sharon wondered, suddenly concerned that Andy's fears were indeed warranted.

The children smothered her with kisses before moving on to Grandpa. When Sharon was free of the noisy mob, she straightened up, tugging her sling tighter.

"Nicole," she began, hoping to calm whatever storm was raging inside of her.

The younger woman didn't give her a chance to say much more. She stepped forward and reached for her, wrapping her arms around her neck.

Sharon pulled her close with her free arm wrapped low around her waist and held her as she cried.

"Shh," she cooed. "It's alright, baby. What's this all about, honey?"

Nicole didn't bother with words for a moment. She was so upset about everything that had happened, but didn't yet know how else to express herself.

Sharon spotted Jeff across the room and tried to ask with her eyes. He only help up a hand. Give it a minute, he seemed to say as he summoned the children to the kitchen, out of earshot.

As the tears subsided, Sharon led Nicole to the sofa and drew her down beside her.

"Honey, talk to me, please. You're breaking my heart."

Nicole dried her tears, sniffing and fighting to calm herself down.

"Sharon," she looked at her as if the source of her distress should be obvious. "She shot you."

She chewed at her lower lip, trying to still the quiver that remained.

Sharon melted and pulled her close again.

"Oh, honey. Is that what this is all about? Nicole, I am fine. I promise. It wasn't on purpose. She didn't mean to hurt me. She wasn't even aiming at me, sweetheart."

Nicole looked up, eyes wide.

"No, she was aiming at Dad. That's not better, Sharon."

"Oh, I know that, sweetheart. That's not what I meant. It was, well, it was a bad situation. Look, I'm not going to give you all the details. It's really not my story to tell."

"You don't have to, Sharon. She told us everything."

Sharon's hand froze, then began to shake, as she raised it to her lips. Oh.

Andy approached them and took a seat on the coffee table, facing them both.

"She called us, like you said she would. She sounded so, so hard, Dad. So cold. I was really looking forward to taking to her. Drew was too. We were together. We put her on speaker phone so we could all talk together. Then Mom just lost it."

Andy laid a hand atop hers and let her talk.

"She just demanded the combination to some lock, which I gave her. I guess that's why you asked if I remembered our old address and said to keep it in mind? Well, as soon as I asked something along the lines of How did Dad and Sharon find you, she blew up. Like Don't pretend you don't already know. I'm sure he told you every little detail. He's just loving my shame. Turning the tables must be so satisfying for him. All sorts of crap. She just unloaded a bunch of stuff about men and drugs and girls, none of which made a lot of sense, then, Boom. I shot Sharon. Let me tell you, we may not have understood most of what she was saying, but that got our attention. Drew went ballistic. Then, Uncle Carson got on the phone and assured us you and Dad were both alright."

"We are, sweetheart," he promised. "We're both okay. Sharon had some surgery to fix some muscle damage and clean and suture the wounds. She'll be in the sling for a few more weeks and then some physical therapy. We're good, baby. We had a chance to rest and take it easy in Ireland after it all happened."

Nicole just sniffed and nodded, still holding each of their hands in her own.

"The rest, well, that's your mom's story to tell, if she chooses. Just know that Carson is with her now. We've been in touch. He promised he'd keep us up to speed, in case your mom didn't."

"Oh, he has. He called and said they were coming home. I'm not sure what home is for her right now. Apparently," she paused and took a deep. breath. "Apparently, she opened an account of her own and has been moving money from their joint account into hers. You know, from that little inheritance Art received? Well, Art figured it out when he took a look at his quarterly report. He cut her off, said whatever she had, she was welcome to, but that's what's she's got to live off of now. He wasn't funding her unending holiday in Europe doing who knows what with who knows who. I can't say I blame him. Dad, he's really low, misses her like crazy, but like who she use to be, you know? Not like she's acting now."

"I know. We tried to talk with her. I can only say that I think she finally understood she was in over her head. But that's when the shooting happened. What she ultimately decided to do, I've no idea. Beyond how it affects you and your brother, it's really not my business. At this point, my involvement would only make things worse for everyone."

"Dad, if you and Sharon hadn't found her, we still wouldn't know where she is or anything at all. Now, we know. Now, whatever she does, we know she's safe and doing it because she chooses to. I am so mad at her right now," she said, the tears gone. "But I am still relieved to know she's okay. Thank you. Thank you both. And Sharon, I'm so sorry you got hurt. But thank you for protecting my dad."

'We protect each other, honey. The first thing he did when that gun appeared was pull me behind him. Just so you know, he tried to protect your mother too."

Nicole looked at both of them, knowing she was right, then nodded.

At that moment, Drew and his family entered and the entire scene repeated itself, from the hugs to the conversation. They finally had a late lunch, then sat around hearing all about their holiday in Europe, minus the chapter involving Sandra.

Cathedral City

So you know just how serious I am, a demonstration. You've been warned.

Her hands shook as she shoved clothes and toiletries into a large duffle. She'd instructed her daughter to do the same, doing her best to keep her hands and voice steady. It's camp. You'll have such a good time. There will be other kids your age. Games, cookouts, swimming, she'd said. Her girl had begged to go to camp for the summer. It wasn't really something they could afford. With Spring Break upon them, it was plausible, at least. A surprise, she'd said.

A note and a couple of phone calls later, they were in the car, headed out of town. They had a long drive ahead of them, but there was nothing to be done for it.

His demonstration, as he called it, had put two people in the hospital. People in their seventies. His own parents. They were no threat to him, just a way to make a point. Well, she got the point, alright. She checked on them, made arrangements for someone to look after them, and got her daughter out of there.

"The Flying Monkey"

Sharon had a chubby little boy on her lap, face and hands covered in applesauce. He was wearing more than he'd consumed, but she didn't care. She was in Heaven.

His mother sat in front of the pair, cleaning his hands and face with a warm, wet rag, with a grin to match her boy's.

"Here, I'll take him," said his father. "Give that arm of yours a rest."

Sharon pouted as the little boy was lifted from her lap, but sighed at the relief she felt in her shoulder. Greg was right. Little Andrew was getting far too heavy and rambunctious to be climbing all over his grandmother while she was still recovering.

A cup of tea appeared before her on the table, as if manifested by her thoughts.

"Andy said its time for your meds, Mom," said Ricky.

He rounded the table and took a seat across from her, sighing at seeing her hurt again. He kept his frustration to himself as much as possible, in deference to Nicole and Drew, who were upset enough for all of them.

Sharon took a look around the table. Emily at her side, Ricky across the table. She knew her husband was hovering nearby in the kitchen, attempting one of the sinful desserts they'd enjoyed in Italy, courtesy of the recipe book put together by their new friends, Bart and Leo.

"So, what's up with you two?" she asked, ever the detective. "You going to tell me what you've been avoiding telling me since you arrived this afternoon?"

Emily and Ricky eyed each other, then crumbled under her gaze.

"We've heard from Jack," Ricky admitted. "First by letter, then by phone."

Sharon set her teacup down on the table and took a deep breath. "Okay."

"He's getting out early. Overcrowding. He's classified as a non-violent offender, so he qualifies."

"He actually wanted to know if we would be there to pick him up," said Emily. "And was dropping hints about needing a place to stay until he gets on his feet."

Andy stiffened behind the kitchen counter, but said nothing. His wife could handle it.

She simply raised the mug and sipped at her tea, not saying a word.

Sharon considered Jack a non-entity. At least she tried to. Though she would never get in the way of her children and their father, she could longer encourage it. Not anymore. He'd lied to them, tried to guilt them, let them think he was dying.

"So, we wished him the best of luck getting it together and asked that he not contact us again," Ricky said, very matter-of fact. "Then I suggested he call his brother for a ride. We are off-limits. I'm not kidding, Mom. If he comes anywhere near my family, I'm getting a restraining order. I don't trust him. He's made friends with the worst sort of people."

Sharon sighed. He was right and it was positively heartbreaking.

"Okay, honey."

She got up and returned her cup to the sink, pausing when Andy reached for her hand and tugged her near, smiling when he kissed her cheek. She then proceeded to the great room, to snuggle her babies.

"That was weird," said Emily. "She okay, Andy?"

He placed his dessert in the refrigerator and joined them at the table.

"Yeah, she's okay. She's just learning to let some things go. So am I. Some things are harder than others. It's taken her years to let go of the responsibility she's always felt for Jack and his relationship with you guys. Now that she has, she has to remind herself of that on the rare occasions when he rears his head. Ex-husbands are complicated."

"And ex-wives?" said Ricky, knowing enough about their trip to surmise his mother wasn't the only one struggling to let things go.

Andy patted him on the shoulder, then bent low to kiss Emily's head.

"Yep," he said, then went to join his wife.

"Anyway, we've invited Art to come and spend a few days with us," he heard his daughter say. "He's in a tough spot. Said he could almost understand if she had just left him for a younger man, but he is younger. He swore it wasn't a thing when they got married years ago, him being younger than her. Now he feels stupid to think she was the one concerned he'd get bored. He's taken a sabbatical and I think it'll do him some good to be with us, since we're in a similar place. Plus, he hasn't met the girls."

Andy offered Sharon his hand. When she took it, he pulled her up from the sofa, took her place, then tugged her down onto his lap. It was a familiar maneuver.

"I think that's a good idea, Nic," he said, to their surprise. "Art's a good guy. He's a little lost, unmoored. It'll do him good to be with people he doesn't have to explain that to."

Sharon tucked her face into the curve of his neck, pressing a kiss there.

"Well said, and I agree."

Arms low around her waist, he squeezed her playfully and rocked back and forth a bit. Yes, remembering the you and me, was the ticket to letting the rest go.

"Bring him around. I won't speak for your mom. That's not my place, but we'll answer whatever questions we can."

Nicole sat on the floor, a little girl crawling all over her.

"Thanks, Dad."

The ringing of the phone after ten was never a good thing. As parents, they had feared that sound. As officers, they dreaded it. Now, still under the weight of jet lag, they were just annoyed.

"I've got it," said Sharon, eyeing the clock. It really wasn't that late. They were just that tired.

"Hello," she said simply, having taken quite some time to shed the Raydor that had for so long punctuated her late-night greetings.

"Sharon?" came a familiar voice, one she hadn't heard in ages. Instantly, she was on guard.

"Yes, this is she."

"I'm really sorry for calling you so late and completely out of the blue. I really am. I need your help. Your, um, professional advice. We're being threatened. I packed up Mandy and left. I need to know how best to protect my daughter. I didn't do right by my son and I'm not going to make the same mistake twice."

It was after two when a soft knock sounded at the front door. Sharon and Andy, Louie and Patrice sat nursing coffee at the table when they heard it.

"Got it,"grumbled Andy, fatigue still hovering over him like a thick fog.

He peered through the window, then unlocked the door. Opening it slowly, he gave her a serious look, scrutinizing her. His eyes then softened at the sight of the sleepy child beside her.

"Come in, Sharon, Mandy."

They stepped inside, but not before Sharon Beck cast a nervous look over her shoulder. It didn't go unnoticed by Andy.

He shut and locked the door after searching the darkness himself.

She looked around her at the impressive home, finding a couple of familiar faces at a large picnic-style table. The surly old lieutenant, she noticed, sat there with the lady he had married. There was Sharon, the other Sharon, her son used to call her. Mom now, she corrected herself.

"Mandy, I'm Patrice. Would you like to go back to sleep honey? I've got a bed you can rest in."

The girl looked around her, then at her mother, who nodded.

"Why don't you take a nap, baby? I'm right here."

She nodded, clearly exhausted, and followed Patrice down the hall.

"I'm so sorry," said Sharon.

"Sit down," the other Sharon said, offering her a seat and a cup of coffee. "Mandy is just fine. Patrice is wonderful with kids. She'll get her settled and probably stay with her until she falls asleep."

Exhaling, she nodded and took a seat. These people really had no reason to trust her. She found them scrutinizing her and figured that was to be expected. Trust was hard to rebuild.

"You're sober," said Andy, eyeing her. "I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head. "I'm sorry for the way that sounded, but you'll forgive me if that's really important going in."

"I am," she said, a spark of pride joining the fear that had taken root in her mind over the course of the day. "I have been sober for thirteen years, four months, and nine days."

Beck and Andy gave each other a challenging stare, then Andy reached across the table, offering her his hand.

"Congratulations, Sharon. That's wonderful."

She exhaled again, glad that part was over.

"I know Rusty talks with you regularly and has never seemed concerned on that front."

"I'm glad, and I completely understand you needing to see for yourself, seeing as how I'm at your door in the middle of the night."

"How are Jim and Linda?" asked Sharon. "Rusty said you all were toying with the idea of moving north, getting Mandy out of California now that's she's getting older."

Sharon Beck began to fidget.

"They, uh, they're in the hospital. They were involved in a hit and run early this morning on the way to Jim's doctor's appointment."

At their surprise, she quickly continued.

"A few weeks ago, I got a letter from Gary, demanding to see Mandy. He made awful comments about how she's twelve now, just the right age. It made me sick to my stomach. He said if I didn't take her to see him, he would send someone to find her. Then this morning, Jim and Linda nearly died and I found this on the car when I was getting ready to leave for work."

She slid a the paper across the table, protected by a plastic baggie.

So you know just how serious I am, a demonstration. You've been warned.

They read it and passed it across the table to Provenza, who rubbed his wrinkled palm across his weary face.

"I don't know what to do, but I'm not letting down another of my kids."

Discussion was tabled for a few hours. Sharon and Mandy had been on the road for nearly fourteen hours. The Flynns were practically sleepwalking due to their jet lag. They showed their guest to the room where her daughter was already fast asleep, and got her settled, promising to work it out tomorrow.

They turned to stumble back to bed and found Provenza checking the locks.

"I'll take the recliner. Make sure our bird doesn't decide to fly away during the night."

Andy looked at his partner and then at his wife.

"Thanks, old man."

He turned his wife toward their room and gave a gentle shove.

Robes deposited on the chest at the foot of the bed, they climbed beneath the covers and stared at the ceiling.

"She's clean and sober," said Andy. "I knew it because Rusty would have told us otherwise. But seeing it with my own eyes… I hate to admit it, but I never thought she'd pull it off. Damned impressive."

"It is. She's working. She's put together. Andy, her first instinct was to protect her child, not to cut and run. She's kept in touch with Rusty, but stayed on the periphery, not inserting herself into our lives, respecting the family Rusty has made here with us. It really is what we all prayed would happen. How can we not help her?"

"We can't. Not help her, I mean," he mumbled. "Sorry. I'm exhausted. Go to sleep, baby. Of course, we'll figure something out. We'll talk to Rusty in the morning when he gets in from Hope House. He'll be back on days when Mike and Jenny get back this weekend."

She turned into his side while he reached around her and tucked a pillow snugly beneath her shoulder.

They might have thought the latest upheaval would keep them awake. They were mistaken. Their tomorrow may look different than they had previously planned, but in the moment, they were safe and warm and together, and sleep soon took over.

They rose early to get breakfast going. Exhausted or not, late night or not, they had a houseful to feed. Nicole and Jeff and their bunch were in the suite of rooms at the rear of the house. Rick and Holly were just up the road at her parents' home. Emily and Greg were staying at Mel and Drew's house. Rusty and Ben would be up with the boys. All would be converging on the kitchen soon. All would come and go throughout the day, depending on what they had planned.

In the kitchen, they were mildly surprised to find Maggie and Patrice already at work on breakfast preparations. Sharon's mother was aware they'd had late-night company and Patrice had filled her in first thing in the morning while her husband made for the shower.

"Well, good morning," said Sharon, bestowing a peck on her mother's cheek and lingering there for a short, sweet minute. "Thank you for starting breakfast. I trust Patrice has brought you up to speed?"

"Indeed," said Maggie, stoic as the Sphinx. "You've plenty of time. No one else is up yet."

Sharon felt her husband's hands at her waist. Leaning against his chest, she angled her head toward him.

"Feel like taking a walk up the street? I think a notification is in order."

He kissed the top of her head and pulled her stronger arm toward the front door.

"Yeah, I don't think we should just invite him for breakfast and say 'surprise!' Might not go over so well."

"I think not," she agreed and followed him out of the house.

Nearing the road, they met Mark and Anne pushing a double stroller and enjoying the cool of the morning.

"Now that's the way to greet the morning," sang Sharon, hurrying to meet them.

She stooped to lavish both grandchildren with kisses while her husband waited his turn.

"Got you up early, huh?" asked Andy.

"Oh yeah. Don't need an alarm clock with these two. We decided to let Rick and Holly sleep in. It's their break too, after all."

"Well, there's coffee on inside. Help yourself. We'll be back shortly. We have an errand this morning. Patrice and Louie will bring you up to speed," said Sharon.

The other couple gave them a curious look, then pointed the stroller toward the cabin. Coffee did sound awfully good.

Rusty and his family lived only two doors down. There were many in Rusty's past who would roll their eyes at that, having accused him of a sort of codependency with his adoptive mother. When he had decided to make his home there on the lake, he thought for a while those folks may have been right after all. It took some time for him to realize that what he had come to depend on, and quite happily so, was the feeling of family, community. It was what he lacked entirely for the first part of his life. Having it in such abundance now seemed a bit like a reward. One of his mom's favorite phrases, from the Bible he supposed, was "Those who sow in tears will reap in joy." That sounded about right.

At the table, he was rifling through the headlines on his computer, sipping coffee. Ben was in the shower and the boys were, shockingly, still asleep. After spending a week's worth of nights at Hope House, a silent house was blissful.

A rapping at the patio door caught his attention and, looking up, he saw his parents. They usually hiked up the hill in the mornings. Perhaps down the road was all they were up to following their month away. He rose from his seat and lifted the latch.

"Morning. Not up to the hill today?"

They entered his house and Sharon hugged her boy, relishing the feel of him.

"There's coffee if you're interested," he added. "The boys are still asleep."

"Our house is pretty quiet too," said Andy. "We thought we'd pop in for a visit. Share something with you."

"Everything okay?" he asked, eyeing his mother, wary after the shooting in Italy.

"Well, yes. I think so," she replied. "We just want to keep it that way. We had a call late last night while you were on duty. We have some unexpected company at the house and thought you might need a heads up."

Rusty set his coffee cup down and studied them. They didn't seem upset. Cautious, perhaps. He schooled his features, reminding himself that he wasn't a boy anymore. He could control his responses. They were coming to him as their adult son and so he would be that for them.

"Honey, your mother called last night. She's being threatened by Gary. He's getting messages to her from prison, threatening to take Mandy away from her. To make his point, he had someone try to take out his parents yesterday. He wanted your mom to understand that, even behind bars, he can get to her, and your sister."

Rusty took a deep breath in and let it out.

"They're at your house."

Andy laid his hand atop his wife's leg under the table. He could feel the tension rolling through her.

"They are. They arrived at around one this morning, after driving all the way here from Cathedral City. I'm sure they're still asleep. She called asking for our help and advice on how to protect her daughter from Gary."

"She's steady as a rock, son. She checked in on Jim and Linda, called their other son. She let him know as much as needed so they would understand why she was getting out of town for a bit. She called her boss and took a week's vacation. She's apparently been with them long enough that they didn't even argue at the short notice. She needed help of a legal kind and she turned to the only people she knows with those answers. That took guts, considering," said Andy.

"You do know what Gary would do with Mandy if he ever got his hands on her, don't you?"

Sharon nodded.

"He suggested as much in his letter. It's why your mother packed a bag and left, much to her credit, I'll add. She told Mandy it was a getaway. Apparently, she's been begging to try summer camp. So, she decided to see how she liked getting away for spring break. So she wouldn't be frightened."

"Look, son," said Andy. "I know this is quite a bomb to drop on you. We just didn't want you to show up later with the kids and find her there, and we certainly weren't going to keep it from you. Neither was your mother."

Rusty stood and moved to the sink, where he deposited his cup. Returning to the table, he paused.

"Thank you. You're right. That would have been, well, not good. Give me a minute to speak to Ben, then I'll walk back with you."

He disappeared, leaving his mildly shocked, but proud parents seated at the table.

"That went better than I thought," said Sharon.

"Because our boy is all grown up."

The large kitchen table was once again coming in handy, with the current group gathered around it trying their best to act as if the presence of Rusty's biological mother was anything other than thoroughly uncomfortable.

Sharon and Andy, Provenza, Anne, and Rusty all sat together with Sharon Beck, sipping coffee. Breakfast had been cleared away, and Maggie and Patrice had offered to watch the children out back, allowing the others an opportunity to speak. Mark and Ben saw to the breakfast dishes, while Nicole and Jeff made a trip into town for groceries. Their little brood could eat.

"I just told Ted, that's Gary's brother," said Sharon, "that I'd received a threat from Gary and I was certain the accident had something to do with that. I needed to get Mandy out of town while I figured out what to do. He's looking after his parents. They'll be okay. I took some money out of my savings so I couldn't be tracked by my card, and I told Ted to disregard any texts I sent him. I don't know who Gary has on the outside or how capable they are of tracking things. I warned him the texts would be deliberately misleading, but I would get in touch with him to check on Jim and Linda somehow."

Rusty propped his elbows against the table top and lowered his face into his palms. His folks were right when they said his mom was solid. Nervous, sure, frightened for her daughter, but determined to get it right. She had thought things through and gone someplace safe. Wasn't that what AA taught? Find someplace safe. That's what Andy said, at least.

"Okay," he said, lifting his eyes. "Okay. There are enough legal brain cells at this table to figure this out. Mandy can stay at Hope House. The kids are all out for Spring Break. We've got tons of stuff planned to keep them entertained. It'll be just like camp. She'll fit right in. We won't put her name anywhere."

"You're sure she's safe there? Her being there won't put anyone else in danger?"

Sharon and Andy smiled.

"They have great security, Sharon," said Andy. "The staff and volunteers are well vetted. We're there all the time too. She's safe."

"I reached out to the warden at Pelican Bay," said Provenza. "Let him know about the threats and the accident. He's going to put eyes on Gary, watch who he's spending time with. We'll see if we can figure out who he's in contact with on the outside. All communications are recorded. Then I called a guy in the Traffic Division in Cathedral City. Brought him up to speed. I didn't say anything about your being here with Mandy. Just made some folks aware of what's happened."

"From a legal prospective, Gary cannot demand to see Mandy. He is a third striker sentenced twenty-five to life. She's not listed anywhere on his intake paperwork."

"Or my paperwork," added Sharon, garnering looks around the table. "When I completed my parole more than ten years ago, primary custody was transferred from Jim and Linda to me. We've raised her together, yes, and that's allowed me to get on a good path and build something for both of us. Given Gary's conviction and his record of trafficking, including minors, the judge agreed he should have no legal claim on Mandy."

Sharon Beck was a markedly changed woman. This was not the young woman they'd first met, scattered and shattered by addiction. Sharon had matured, now a woman in her mid-fifties. She was more poised. She had educated herself, was working. She learned from the system that had once kept her behind bars. Hers was a success story.

It was one with which Andy Flynn was familiar. That struggle, the climb from the bottom of a dark, dirty pit. He'd made that climb, as had his nephew. Now, it seemed Rusty's mom had as well. He found himself praying his former wife hadn't yet fallen so far as to make the climb impossible.

"So, Gary has no legal options, and it's doubtful this has anything at all to do with wanting to know Mandy," said Provenza.

"It's just Gary," said Rusty. "He's a miserable human being and he wants to share the misery. He doesn't like that you've gotten yourself together, made a life in his family, without him in it. He's lost his influence over you and he doesn't like that."

"Well done, by the way," said Provenza. He wasn't one for pouring on the praise, but if getting and staying sober for more than a decade wasn't enough to garner his admiration, pissing off that bastard Gary, as he put it, certainly did it. "Look, we'll figure out how to stop him from getting messages out, and we'll keep Mandy safe until we do. We're pretty good at that."

They tabled the conversation for the time being. There were other details to see to, but they could wait. The air had grown heavy with a familiar weight, one that was best lifted by sunshine and children.

Making their way to the back lawn, they took seats where they could find them, smiling at the antics of their grandchildren who had easily folded Mandy in among them. Holly and Rick approached them, depositing their children into the laps of their grandfathers, as Rusty and the other Sharon took to the trail to talk.

"All good?" Ricky asked, sinking onto the porch step and handing Andy a sippy cup for his daughter, Willa.

Andy bounced the little girl on his lap, laughing along with her. That sound was more than enough to drive the darkness away.

"Will be."

His wife leaned in close and pressed a kiss to her granddaughter's chubby cheek, then another to Andy's. When he stretched an arm behind her and gently rubbed her back, just below her repaired shoulder, she hummed in response. It was aching, he could tell. Their grandchildren were very energetic, and when they wanted Grandma, she was incapable of denying them.

Ricky studied his folks. They looked tired, which certainly made sense after their travels. Coming home to not only a houseful of people, but this latest situation, which he knew admittedly little to nothing about, wasn't helping. All he knew was his brother's bio-mom had shown up on their doorstep. It couldn't be comfortable. Yet, they were Sharon and Andy. They could no more turn away a mother and child in need than they could stop the sun from rising.

"I'm going to set up the slip and slide for the kids," he said, rising from the porch. Bending low, he pressed a kiss to his mother's cheek, then squeezed his Pop's shoulder.

Watching him go, his long-legged stride easily covering the path from the porch to the garage, Andy chuckled.

"How much you want to bet he's the first kid on it?"

Sharon laughed beside him. "Well, it certainly won't be me."

The afternoon took on a lighter feeling, with spirited children, big and small, squealed with delight as they slid down Ricky's long plastic sheet topped with cold water and soap. Ricky, of course, had to test it out. Andy had been right. The smallest sat in a little plastic pool tucked into the shade of the trees. Sharon Rose, Sara, Willa, James, and Andrew giggled and blew bubbles in the water, much to the delight of their doting grandparents.

Rusty and his mother returned to the yard and smiled, watching from the periphery. Kids dashed across the yard, slid down the plastic slide, and sipped lemonade at the picnic table. Mandy was right in the thick of it.

"You were right, Momma. It is like camp!"

Good morning, Love. Couldn't sleep. Baked cinnamon rolls and am taking some down the road to Rusty's. Yes, I let you sleep in. No, I'm not sorry. Be back in a bit. A

She found it nestled on his pillow, a pink rose from the bushes out back resting on top. Smiling, she pushed herself up on her strong arm and reposition her pillows. From the nightstand, she fetched her glasses and her phone. She'd intentionally not checked her email the previous day, preferring to keep dwelling in the feeling of vacation.

While flipping through her inbox, the phone buzzed in her hand. Incoming call.

"Little early," she grumbled to herself.

"Hello," she said, sounding more awake than she truly was.

An automated voice announced a collect call from Pelican Bay State Prison. Do you accept the charges?

Sharon pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it as if to ask Seriously?

She ended the call and put the phone back on the nightstand.

"Absolutely not," she announced to no one at all as she shoved the covers back and rose from the bed.

She padded her way to the ensuite and proceeded to ready herself for the day. When she emerged, teeth and hair brushed, face scrubbed, she pulled a pair of jeans and a button-down blouse from the chest and quickly dressed. Afterwards, she tidied the bedding and grabbed her phone.

Reaching for the doorknob, she found her sling with a note attached. Put it on! Chuckling, she grabbed it and took it with her. Always taking care of her, that one.

She found her mother in the kitchen, seeing to breakfast. A stack of thick, fluffy flapjacks already stood at the ready, along with a platter of eggs and bacon.

Sharon stepped behind the counter and hugged her mother from behind, placing a kiss to her cheek.

"Good morning," she hummed, eyeing the fresh fruit on the cutting board.

"Morning, dearest. Rest well?"

She pointed her knife toward the coffee and simply said It's hot.

Sharon pulled a large earthen mug from the tray and filled it, breathing in the rich aroma with satisfaction.

"Everything smells so good. After the food we enjoyed in Italy, I think I could skip a week's worth of meals and still be full. Pasta and wine aren't just national treasures over there. They're practically the national pastime. I feel like we ate our way across the country."

"Because we did and it was amazing!" said Andy, entering the house.

"But I need to watch my waistline," she said.

Andy stepped up to the counter and poured himself a cup.

"That's my job, sweetheart," he said before wrapping an arm low around her waist. "Yep, still perfect."

"Oh hush," she chuckled.

"Here," he said, trading his cup for the sling she'd left on the counter. "Let's put this on you."

He got the sling situated on her and secured it well.

"Your girl is stubborn, Maggie."

"Right, you are, son. Now both of you, please grab a platter and let's get breakfast on the table before it gets cold."

No sooner was it done than the rest of the house began to drag into the kitchen. They had a big day planned for the children of Hope House and would be joining them there in a couple of hours. They were kicking their spring holiday off with a cookout and games on the lawn. Ricky insisted his homemade slip and slide would make an appearance. The grandkids would join them and by sundown be ready to collapse. Provenza joked that maybe they'd all manage to sleep in the following day.

The children were almost too excited to eat. Almost. Maggie's flapjacks were awfully hard to resist. They made quick work of them, devouring everything set before them, before dashing off to dress for their day. Their parents sat, wide-eyed, somewhat gobsmacked by their enthusiasm. Finally, they dissolved into a fit of laughter.

"Well," said Patrice, chuckling. "It's certainly less to clean up!"

She stood and began collecting the plates from the table. When her arms were full, she made her way to the counter and set them beside the sink.

"Please, let me help."

Patrice eyed their guest, who looked so out of place there, despite their efforts at hospitality. It was an uncomfortable situation, all around. They all knew Rusty kept in touch with her and had a relationship with Mandy as well. It was also clear that they had made the decision to live largely separate lives, both choosing to respect his place in a new family. The family that picked up that which had been cast away.

"Sure. Thanks, Sharon. Grab a dishtowel from the drawer over there," she said, indicating the one to the left of the sink. "You can dry."

They worked together, making small talk about Sharon's job in Cathedral City. She liked it very much, working at the public library, using the computer skills gained in night school. It was quiet there, and the hours allowed her to get Mandy to and from school each day. It was so normal. Everyday life. It was a far cry from the stories Patrice had heard.

Sharon and Andy helped put the table to rights, all the while watching the interaction in the kitchen. Their guest took every opportunity to be of help. She watched her daughter like a hawk and did an admirable job giving Rusty and his family space to be themselves without comment or jabs. The change really was remarkable.

"Sharon, I hope you'll go with us to Hope House today. Rusty has worked so hard there. I know he'd be proud to show it to you."

They eyed each other, Rusty's mothers. No spite, no resentment.

"I'd like that," she nodded. "Mandy's talked of nothing else."

"And you can meet Rusty's partner, Lydi, there," said Sharon. "She and her husband, our nephew, Brian, have been in San Bernardino for a few days."

"Sounds like they work around the clock, one of them always there," she said, pulling another plate from the drain.

"Well, they're both on the property each day, but there are house parents that live there and care for the children. Rusty and Lydi both come home to their own families at night. Rusty was spending the nights there this week to give the others a respite."

"Makes sense. Jim and Linda looked after Mandy all day before she started school. It allowed me to work and take classes. Then, we had evenings together, which gave them a break."

"I'm so glad that situation worked out as well as it has," said Sharon. "Mandy is just beautiful."

Sharon Beck gave her the most genuine smile she thought she'd ever seen from her.

"Yes, she is. Thank you."

"And I also think she's going to have a marvelous time today."

Pelican Bay State Prison, Crescent City

Click.

He stared at the handset in his grip, incredulously, then slammed it back onto the housing hanging on the wall.

"Bitch," he growled. "How dare she .."

"Hey, if you're done, move aside. I'm up next."

"Nah, I've still got time," he grumbled.

"Sounds to me like the bitch don't want to talk to you, Raydor. Now I'm up. So move aside."

He turned and found a short line of men waiting for their turn at the phones. They were on and available all day on the weekends. Sighing, he stepped to the side, and then away. They were not the current cause of his anger, nor did he wish to be the target of theirs.

Shuffling toward the chow hall, he mumbled to himself under his breath. He'd had the whole night to think about it, plan out what he was going to say. He knew how to charm his wife. Alright, his ex-wife, as he'd been reminded so discourteously. It was all for nothing. She wouldn't even accept the call. After all the years of, well, something. So much history between them. You'd think she'd answer the call.

He grabbed a tray, accepted the slop they called food, and found a seat away from the trash. They were even worse for the appetite than the food. Considering the creamed something on the tray, his stomach rolled, then his eyes. He should be used to it by now. At least the coffee was bearable, if it didn't eat a hole in through his gut. Man, was he pissed. First the kids, then the wife- ex-wife, now this slop.

He was due to be released in a few days and had nothing waiting for him at all. The courts had seized his assets. He'd been disbarred. His kids wouldn't pick him up. The wife wasn't even taking his calls. He needed a plan.

The noisy clattering of a tray drew him out of his thoughts as he was joined by another. He was familiar enough. After a while, most faces were, even if he'd tried not to make eye contact.

"Don't remember offering you a seat," he grumbled.

"I don't remember it either. Yet here we are."

He let it lie, unwilling to risk making an enemy so close to his release.

"So, you name's Raydor?" asked the stranger. "That's a unique name."

"So I'm told."

"I think I've only heard it once before. It was the name of the bitch who sent me here."

That got his attention. Jack set his fork down and gave the man across the table a good look in the eye.

"So it seems we got something in common."

He studied the man across from him, all beady eyes and greasy black hair reaching his shoulders.

"How do you figure that?"

The other man cackled as he slurped his coffee.

"Cause I got a bitch of my own. She's named Sharon too."

Hope House, Big Bear Lake

Sweet Lydi,
Even with board meetings and a visit to your doctors, three days away with you were a treat. An all clear from your physician was the answer to many heart-felt prayers. Once we're past our busy weekend, we'll enjoy a celebration for two. Your heart is my home. Brian

She refolded the letter and tucked it into the pocket of her purse. Later, she would put it away with the others. The wildflowers which accompanied it, she left in their vase on the kitchen counter. She hardly spent any time in her office. There was too much to be done around the house.

It had, indeed, been a busy few days in the city. San Bernardino was a terrific city in the springtime, brimming with activity and life. Lively music and water sports offered something for almost everyone. There was a reason it was once named the All American City. Sadly, between meetings with investors, a planning committee, and a visit with her doctors, they'd enjoyed none of it. It mattered little. They were together. Now that they were back, they would get through an equally busy day at Hope House, then retire to the peaceful privacy of their own little paradise at home.

Lydi looked out over the backyard, a large expanse of green, currently dotted with colorful canopies to shade the various games laid out for the children. Groundskeeper Ruben and his sister, Celina, who oversaw the kitchen, were hard at work directing the small army of dedicated volunteers who had signed up to help that day.

What a day it was, too. The sun was shining and there was a brisk coolness in the air. The kids had been up since well before dawn, according to Celina. If only they'd wake up so easily on school days, she thought, smiling.

Stepping onto the lawn, she reveled in the feel of the grass on her bare feet, the warm sun on her shoulders. She quickly swept her heavy black hair up on top of her head, then dug a clip from deep in her pocket to keep it there. There was an awful lot of it and it did tend to get in her way.

Her father, Mark, the sweet man who had chosen her to be his, was down on his knees tinkering with the grill. There were hamburgers and hotdogs on the menu for the day, among other things, and the grill was old and finicky. Andy was bringing his from home. It would take the both of them going all day to feed the hoard.

Hope House was small, by design. They served only two dozen children there at any given time. It was their way of making them feel less like part of a system and more like members of a family. They were housed in family groups, or pods, where they came to rely on one another, love one another. Families were built in different ways, Rusty always told them. Theirs was no different. By keeping it small, no one got lost. Rusty and Lydi had both experienced that, and were determined their children never would.

That was why the community as a whole was coming together today and throughout the week to give them something their friends at school had, springtime fun, and maybe even something they didn't.

Friends Andy and Louie, the lieutenant, were setting up picnic tables end to end, buffet-style. Food for an army would fill them soon, she thought. There was a metal wash bin that would be filled with water and fresh apples and Ricky had insisted on bringing the homemade waterslide he'd constructed for the lawn at the cabin. Cookies waited to be decorated, butcher paper to be painted. There were baseballs and footballs and soccer balls, something for every child. It promised to be quite the week.

Pelican Bay, Crescent City

The air smelled, well, it didn't really smell like anything. It didn't smell, and that was the point. He'd have sworn the months and months of smoke and stench, body odor and piss would leave their mark on his senses. Standing taller, he smirked. No. Before this brief, unfortunate misstep, he'd been a well respected attorney. He may no longer be able to practice law, but he still knew the law. He knew how to work it and how to make it work for him.

He'd be up on his feet again in no time, now that he had a plan, the means to achieving his ultimate goal. All those who should've had his back and didn't, they'd get theirs soon.

The whine of a diesel-fed engine had him cursing under his breath. A bus. They were seriously forcing him to take the bus. He squared his shoulders and gripped his bag. It contained all he had. He supposed he should be grateful to them for that much. A couple of changes of clothes and card with an address on it. Hell of a lot of good that ought to do him.

They'd soon regret turning on him yet again.

Big Bear Lake

There were children everywhere. An afternoon of baseball, relay races, and tag had given way to ice cream, popsicles, and watermelon. An uncharacteristic hush fell over the lawn as the kids enjoyed their treats under the shade of trees and canopies. Those tasked with their care were likewise resting about the yard, lounging against trees, stretched out across blankets on the grass.

Andy rested on an old thread-bare throw, his head cushioned on his wife's lap. He smiled at the feeling of her fingers in his hair. She sat propped against an ice chest, one hand in his hair, the other strapped close to her side. Both were in that blissful in-between state, not quite asleep, not entirely aware of their surroundings. They'd eaten their fill, watched the children play, and talked of all the ways they might fill the week to come while also keeping their guests safe.

Mandy had easily blended in with the other kids, bobbing for apples and playing kickball with the boys. She was currently playing with Sharon Rose and Sara on a nearby blanket. Her mother had disappeared with Patrice nearly an hour ago, likely to the kitchen. Nicole sat close by, keeping a watchful eye on everyone, glad for the break.

The second shift was just arriving to begin cleaning up and soon the day would wind down. It was sure to be a restful night at Hope House. The kids had worn themselves out, as tended to happen on a well-planned Saturday.

The others joined them to help put the lawn back to rights, Rick and Drew doing most of the heavier lifting. Emily and Holly packed away the leftover food and stored it in the kitchen. Patrice and Sharon returned to collect the blankets from the grass, the latter looking a little different.

"Momma, what did you do?" asked Mandy, fingering the newly darkened locks.

"Patrice did it. Do you like it?" she asked, giving a little spin.

"It's different. Like chocolate. I like chocolate."

"So that's a yes?" asked her mother, getting tickled.

"Yes. I like it. But why color your hair, Momma?"

"Just for fun," she hedged. "Change is good." and aids in disguise, she withheld.

"Well, look at you," said Louie. "Brown, huh?"

"It's called Caramel Latte, Louie," said his wife, "and I think it looks very nice. Plus, from a distance, it would be harder to know who you were looking at, wouldn't you say?"

The lieutenant tilted his head and considered his wife. Perhaps he was rubbing off on her.

"I would, yes." He circled Sharon Beck and gave her a once over, nodding. "Yes, I would."

He pecked his wife on her cheek, then grabbed the handle to the cooler. It needed to be returned to the garage for storage until the weekend, when they would drag it out again. There were talks of an overnight campout on the hill behind The Flynn cabin. The weather looked to be perfect and the kids were keen to try. Provenza, not so much.

The last camping trip he'd been on had resulted in a raging case of poison ivy in an extremely delicate location. He was not interested in revisiting that experience, memorable though it was.

They loaded up and headed for home, exhausted but happy with the success of the day. The smiles on the faces of the children of Hope House were more than enough to compensate for a little sunburn and sore feet.

The kids were directed straight to the showers upon arriving at the cabin. Though sweat and grime was normal and meant they were happy, healthy children, according to Sharon, sweet, soapy smelling grandkids were much nicer to snuggle. The youngest were fed and put to bed, their parents eager for a little playtime of their own.

Everyone scattered, the kids to scrub up and change, their parents to do likewise. They had designs on the hot tub out back. Sharon and Andy cued up a movie for the children while Patrice popped loads of popcorn. It would be a night filled with laughter, but the kids could sleep in the following day.

By the time the house had quieted, some time after midnight, they could hear only the faint bits of conversation flitting through the darkness from the backyard. Andy held his wife, who smiled in contentment at having her family so close. The grandchildren had collapsed in front of the movie, sound asleep less than halfway through. Their parents were still up, talking long into the night under the moon and stars, sharing their lives in that special way that grown siblings so easily did. Even those who hadn't all grown up together.

It was to that sweet lullaby that they drifted away, safe and wanted and loved.

California State Route 38. That was the extent of his view through the small window just above his bed. More of a cot, really. It was a thin mattress with a pillow and blanket resting on top of a rickety wooden frame, much like the kind he imagined his son had slept on at Scout camp. There was sink on the opposite wall, stained orange by soap scum and iron, and a toilet that looked much the same. He should be used to it by now. It wasn't much different from his cell. About as clean, too. It did, however, suit his current budget.

It was also spitting distance from his family. Well, his former family. The family who had decided they no longer considered him their family. They hadn't picked him up at the Bay. They hadn't arranged a suitable place for him to stay, saving him from this hellhole. No, they didn't even take his calls. It was fine. It was all well and good. They would get theirs. He would see to it. And then he'd get a little something for his trouble, too. He'd be on his feet again in no time.

Glad they're getting out and that you'll be there to look after them. Please give them our love and tell them we plan to be back from Redding soon.

Sharon keyed off a quick text and sent it, hoping to mislead anyone who might intercept the message. She had warned Gary's brother to be on alert and not to take her messages at face value.

Pocketing her cell phone, she stepped off of the porch into the yard and walked toward the water. The house was a tomb. Most were still asleep, while some had gone to church. At home, she would have Mandy up and dressed to go with her grandparents.

The second house rose up on her left. The nephew lived there, she'd been told. She'd seen him leave earlier with his wife. Really young, both of them. She hadn't had a chance to talk much with them. They weren't around much, always at work.

She stepped onto the dock that extended over the lake and took a seat. Folding her legs beneath her, she set her coffee cup beside her and closed her eyes, allowing the breeze to carry her hair away from her shoulders. It really was peaceful here. She could see why her son liked it so much. It was everything the city was not. The air was fresh, the streets safe, the people honest and kind. It was a good place to raise children. She was happy to see him content, thriving.

No thanks to her. But she had accepted that. The other Sharon had given him that, and she was grateful. The best she could do for him now was respect that, and try to do the same for her daughter.

The earthy aroma of incense, cinnamon, clove, and notes of citrus, lingered in her hair as she left the chapel of St. Cecelia's and stepped out into the fresh air. She squinted at the noonday sun, her eyes adjusting after an hour in the dimly lit church.

Her smile bloomed as bright as the sun overhead when she felt her husband's arm drape across her shoulders and tug her closer, pressing a kiss against her head. One arm still bound in a sling, she reached the other around his waist and pulled him equally tight. It was still her favorite place to be, next to Andy Flynn.

They chatted amiably as they crossed the green, talking of everything from the priest's message to how to keep their houseful entertained all week. Given the sheer numbers staying there, they opted for a quiet lunch in the village before returning home.

Taking to the sidewalk, they headed toward the square, laughing together like a pair of teenagers, hands entwined and eyes twinkling. Green had always suited her. It had always made such a nice contrast to her auburn hair, now even darker, richer with age. The dress, linen, he guessed, fell to just below her knees. With sleeves which ended just below her elbow, her arms would have been protected from the chill of the church. She got cold so easily, he knew. The wedged sandals gave her a couple of unnecessary inches. Her mate wore a simple pair of perfectly pressed khaki colored slacks and a collared shirt in the same dark green. They complemented each other well. She blushed and grinned like a school girl when he paused to pick a flower from a copse of green lining the corner of the park.

It made him sick. It pissed him off.

While he had been locked up, molding away in a six by eight foot cell, his wife.. No. Strike that. Former wife. His former wife and the replacement husband, replacement father, were living large here in Big Bear with its blue skies and green grass, neither of which he'd seen in years. Here they were, snuggled up at a sidewalk cafe in the shadow of the mountains while he was bunking in the back room of a gas station. They enjoyed the fresh mountain air. He got piss and gas fumes.

Well, he didn't plan to be stuck there for long. He had big plans. Shaking up their little paradise along the way? Well, that was just for fun.

Ruben Ramirez finished loading the back of the pickup truck and closed the tail gate. He leaned against the top and, drawing an old rag from his pocket, swiped it across his brow, damp with sweat. The bed of the truck was filled with a variety of goods, everything on the list provided to him by Lydi. In addition to the usual grocery run, which was easily enough to fill the cab of the truck, there were also extra supplies to see the kids through the week. He had also picked up a load of equipment for their upcoming camping trip, something they hadn't tried all together yet, but were very much looking forward to-especially the children. He smiled at the thought. It certainly was different than his time in the system, which was entirely the point.

"Hey kid," he heard. "Psst. Over here."

Ruben looked over each shoulder, then turned to find an older gentlemen, tall and lumbering, lurking at the corner between the hardware store and the pharmacy.

He stayed at the end of the truck, unwilling to move closer to the stranger. Ruben was familiar with the citizens of the tight-knit village and this was someone he didn't recognize.

"What can I do for you, friend?"

Jack sauntered toward him, hands stuffed into the pockets of his trousers.

"Not a thing, friend. It's what I can do for you. I'm new in town, starting my own business, and I'm looking for an associate to handle my supply chain issues. Could be very lucrative for an enterprising young man such as yourself. Possibly a supplement to your current income," he said, eyeing the side of the truck. "Easy money. Might you be interested?"

He turned up the charm. Jack Raydor may have just completed an unfortunate stint in lock up, but he hadn't started out on that path. No. He was cultured and educated. Jack could speak high society with the best of them.

Ruben leaned his back against the bumper and crossed his legs at the ankles, carefully regarding the man. More money sounded nice. Easy money, well that was suspicious.

"How easy?" he asked. "What, exactly, does this supply chain involve?"

Jack approached the younger man and kept his voice low. He was feeling bold.

"We start with free samples. The more interest we drum up, the more money. We invite others to give it a try. If they like it, we have new customers, like subscribers, see? The more customers, the more cashflow. Supply and demand. Easy."

He pulled his hand from his pocket and extended it toward the kid, dropping it into his open palm.

Ruben accepted what looked like a straw, a paper straw closed at both ends, a little like the Pixie Sticks he'd occasionally received as a little boy.

"I know what you're thinking and yeah, that's what it looks like. But this is even better. Don't give me an answer now. Just think about it. Give it a try. I'll be around."

He clapped the young man on the shoulder and turned to slip down the alleyway. A moment later, he was gone.

Ruben rounded the truck, then slid behind the wheel. Opening the glove compartment, he turned his palm over and let it fall. He had work to do, and things to think about.

With the truck backed up close to the garage, Ruben proceeded to unload the goods. Beginning with the groceries, he hauled multiple bags into the kitchen, where his sister, Celina, began emptying them directly onto the countertops. Meal preparations would start immediately, saving valuable time later.

Ruben returned to the garage, where he found Rusty already pulling the tailgate down to help unload.

"I see you got everything."

"I believe so. Mr. Martin donated a number of things as well, and said if I swing by on the way out of town, he'll have coolers of water and ice ready to go too."

"Terrific," said Rusty. "That's great. I'll call him later. Do you have the receipts?"

"I do," said Ruben. "In the glove compartment. Just a second."

He rounded the truck and reached in through the passenger window. Opening the glovebox, he reached for the receipts. There was the stick the stranger had given him.

"Hey, Rusty," he said, returning to the back of the truck. "Your dad around tonight? Maybe in the morning? Whichever is more convenient."

"I'd assume so. He's grandpa this week, so I don't think he'd be anywhere else. Why?"

Ruben thought for a moment. He didn't want to interrupt family time. If what was in the truck was what he suspected though, he really needed Andy's advice. Rusty was right. There were kids everywhere, especially now, spring break.

"You think he'd mind if I gave him a call? Maybe swung by for a minute? I just wanted his advice on something. Your mom's too maybe."

Rusty paused what he was doing and propped an elbow on the side of the pickup.

"Everything okay, Ruben?" The younger man looked not scared, but curious, as if he were working something out in his mind.

"Yeah. I think so. There's no trouble, at least not that I know of. But if that changes, you'll be the first to know."

Rusty eyed him a moment longer, then gave him a short nod. "Good enough. Let's get this stuff unloaded. I'm sure Lydi will want to inspect it, probably wash some of it before the kids use it. If we lay it all out along the wall, she can do an inventory without having to climb all over the place."

"Good idea. She's not up to that yet."

"Nope. So let's get started. I'll text my Pop and tell him to expect to hear from you."

"Appreciate it."

"How was Mass this morning?" asked Emily. "I almost got up and joined you, but Andrew decided two to four a.m. was an appropriate time for a Mommy and Me play date. I was out cold this morning."

"Like mother, like son," said Sharon. "You liked the wee hours of the morning too, if memory serves." She leaned toward her grandson, seated in his high-chair, enjoying bits of turkey and vegetables. Kissing his forehead, the only part of his face not covered in food, she lingered there, smelling his dark curls. "Did you keep your momma up, my boy?"

The little boy threw his head back and giggled, causing matching laughter around the table.

"To answer your question, it was good," said her mother. "The music was nice. The organ is down, so we just had the piano today. It was nice and simple. Father Paul spoke of the beauty in brokenness, you know, how completely flawed people are still completely useful."

"Huh," grunted Provenza. What he meant, no one knew.

"I agree with him," said Rusty. "I mean, how can I not?" he said, smirking. "Prime example, right here," he added, gesturing toward himself. "Isn't that the point we try to drive home to the kids at Hope? Their yesterday doesn't determine their tomorrow?"

"That's lovely, Rusty," said his grandmother, smiling.

"It is, isn't it? But it isn't mine. I'm quoting Lydi. Where she got it, I don't know. But it's at the heart of our mission. Our kids come to us from a variety of backgrounds and situations. It's our jobs to teach them that the past may step on the heels of the present, as someone once said. Again, I don't know who. That doesn't mean it writes the future. That is up to them. They get to decide the next chapter."

"It's from a book," said the other Sharon. "Patricia MacLachlan. A children's book. The quote, I mean."

Sharon Beck became the focus of several pairs of eyes in that moment. It was not the first time. It was, however, the first time she had commanded their attention with such fascination.

"I've read that book," said Sharon. "Emily has too. I gave it to her one Christmas. I think Rusty's right. Everyone here has come back from something they never expected. I think most people can say that. We're all flawed No one is perfect. What Father Paul was saying is that God uses broken people to do things, important things. I mean, that's the only kind of people there are, right?"

Sharon Beck shrugged her shoulders. It was certainly true of those around the table. Cultured and educated, the lot of them.

"I would suggest that includes you," Andy told her, much to the surprise of everyone else. "Look what you've accomplished." He looked around at their surprised faces. "I know, I've not always been the most supportive of your situation or your presence in Rusty's life, but you've got to know that comes from my concern for him and for Sharon. But look at you now. You've been sober for more than ten years. You finished night school. You're working and you've raised a beautiful little girl. Sharon, if I can acknowledge the changes I've made in my life, changes for the betterment of myself and the ones I love, then how can I not acknowledge the same in you? Your past has influenced your future, yes. But in your case, as in mine, you've decided to make it a positive influence. Well done."

Rusty's mother, the woman who had birthed him, stared across the table at the man who had assumed responsibility for him, a child not his own. This man had taken him as his own, along with two others. He loved them all as a father should, giving them no reason to fear for their safety or doubt their place in his life. She looked at him, wide-eyed, and wondered at his words.

Sharon, who hadn't given him life, but had saved it, sat beside her husband, allowing her tears to freely fall. He finally got what she'd been trying to tell him. Her heart was light, gladdened for the sake of Rusty and his mother. Most of all, she was relieved for her husband, for his epiphany. He had been growing, moving toward it for some time. His compassion for others working their way through struggles all too familiar to him had deepened with time and experience. Knowing their children and their challenges had helped. Working at Hope House had as well, as had reconnecting with his faith. It was a joy to witness.

"Thank you." It was all she could manage. Sharon Beck was unaccustomed to praise of any kind, especially that which came without strings. These people needed nothing from her. Quite the opposite actually. It was she who was beholden to them. She felt the eyes of her daughter on her. She was young, but not unaware. Sharon may not have given her certain details of the past, but Mandy knew her mother was a recovering addict. That much she had been quite open about, if only to save her child from the same. The look her child was giving her at the moment was one of pride. In fact, both of her children looked quite pleased. "Thank you."

The top of the hill offered a stunning view of their little corner of Paradise. Blue sky and green grass met under the rosy gaze of the setting sun, tinting all within its reach in a golden hue.

Sharon wound her arms low around his waist and leaned against his back, pressing her cheek between his shoulders.

"It was a beautiful thing you did for Sharon this evening, for Rusty and Mandy too. A. Lesson for everyone at the table, Andy." She kissed the space at the base of his neck, humming at the scent of him. "You're a very wise man, my dear."

He huffed at her words.

"You know, of course, that I'm only just catching on, finally, to what my brilliant wife has been trying to teach me for some time."

Chuckling, she squeezed him tighter still.

"Brilliant, huh?"

"Oh yeah. Brilliant. Beautiful. Sexy."

"Still?" she asked, somewhat vulnerable, he thought.

He turned within the circle of her arms and looked down at her, quite a bit shorter without her heels.

"Are you kidding me? Sweetheart, I've been addicted to those legs for ages now. You are as sexy and alluring as they day I first laid eyes on you and we didn't even like each other then. You're the one compulsion I've got left, the one I've no intention of losing, ever. I'm a slave to your eyes. I crave your arms around me like they are now. I'm entirely dependent on your smile. I don't ever want to experience life without you, lady, so please, don't ask me to. Okay?"

Her eyes welled up with moisture until the best she could offer him was a simple nod.

"Aw hell. Don't cry, babe. You know I hate that."

"Too bad, Flynn."

Andy shuffled his feet, as always, unmoored by her tears. While he would never make light of her feelings, he needed to lighten the mood. He framed her face, damp with tears, in his large palms. His thumbs, slightly calloused from years of woodwork, brushed away the moisture pooled beneath her lashes and he bent to kiss the tip of her nose.

"You are every bit as lovely as the day I married you, Sharon, and then some. How you manage to grow sexier by the year while I only grow age spots and wrinkles not only amazes me, it frankly pisses me off, and I would take you right now, here on this hilltop if I didn't know you'd slap me for honesty suggesting it."

That did it. A bubble of laughter escaped her and her forehead fell to his chest before she composed herself and looked up to meet his gaze again.

"Prove it, Flynn."

If she aimed to shock him, she succeeded, but he reciprocated. After making out on the hill, they made for home and took up where they had left off. If she'd any doubts as to how her husband viewed her in her advancing years, he'd certainly erased them. There was something about being pinned to the bedroom door just as soon as it had closed, she thought. It did make a woman feel wanted. Especially post-sixty. It was that image she kept in her mind's eye as she drifted off, safely blanketed in those same arms. The lingering warmth made her shiver.

It was still dark when she opened her eyes again. As per usual, they rose in time to catch the dawn peeking over the hills each day. It appeared her husband had beaten her though, as his side of the bed was not only empty, but his pillow cold.

She sat up and noticed movement on the sheet. Reaching for the bedside lamp, then her glasses, she reached for what turned out to be her cell phone. Lifting it, she saw a waiting message which, when she opened it, revealed a photo.

She touched the photo to enlarge it and her cheeks glowed warmly. There she was, her naked form covered in nothing but the sheet, her hair an auburn halo about her sleeping face. Her injured arm was across her chest, clutching at the hem of the sheet, while the other curled toward her face. She was covered, except for the full length of one, well-toned leg. In the shadow of the darkened room, with only the light from the ensuite, it appeared as if sculpted of alabaster. The photo appeared almost artistically staged, and very alluring. She blushed in spite of herself.

Beneath the picture, he had typed the phrase How could you ever doubt?

Oh, that man.

She rose and quickly dressed, the aroma of coffee spurring her on, and found him in the kitchen preparing a thermos for their climb.

Slipping an arm up the length of his back, she squeezed at his muscles, which he instinctively flexed beneath her touch, causing her to laugh.

"Show off," she husked. "Believe me, it's entirely unnecessary. If I close my eyes I can still imagine them wrapped around…"

"Good morning, dearest," sand her mother.

Sharon froze against her husband's back before, relaxing a bit. Resting her cheek against him, she peeked over her shoulder and greeted her mother.

"Morning, Mom. Sorry about that."

Maggie laughed as she continued her breakfast preparations.

"Aw, think nothing of it, my girl. Young love is a lovely thing."

Andy turned and pressed a kiss to her brow, mouthing young, with a wink. Though to a woman of ninety, he supposed, they were.

He grabbed the thermos in one hand, his wife's hand in the other, and headed toward the door. Pausing by his mother in law, he kissed her cheek and said "So's your daughter," then continued on his way. He nodded toward the blanket draped over the back of the sofa, he cue to Sharon to pick up, which she did. Then, they were off to catch the sunrise.

When they returned to the cabin nearly an hour later, the sun well on its way skyward, they found Maggie was not alone. Provenza and Patrice were up, of course, as were Nicole and her family, who planned a day at Hope House. There was another, however, who was unexpected, but not unwelcome.

"Ruben?" said Sharon. "What brings you out here this morning?"

She sailed through the house and leaned down to embrace him from the side.

"Did you have some coffee, honey?" she asked as she stepped toward the carafe on the counter, pouring two fresh cups.

The young man stood to greet them and nodded. "Yes, ma'am, I did."

He reached to shake Andy's hand in greeting.

"I hope you don't mind my dropping by. I wanted to speak with you both for a moment, if I may."

"Not at all," said Andy. "Rusty mentioned that you might stop by. Would you like to step into the living room?" he asked, gesturing that way.

"Actually, I thought we could speak outside. I've something in the truck to show you, if that's okay?"

Sharon rejoined them near the table and handed her husband a cup.

When Andy gestured toward the front door, she followed, as did Ruben.

"The new porch is really something," he told them. "Shame some jerk had to hit this house to make it happen, but it sure is beautiful."

Andy chuckled. "I agree, on all counts. It was a pain, but worth it in the end. We love it out here, especially in the evenings."

Ruben led them to the passenger side of the truck, speaking as he did.

"So I was in town yesterday, doing the grocery run for Lydi. While I was loading up, this stranger approached me about making a few extra bucks. Only it didn't seem like just a few bucks, you know? He wasn't your average thug type of character. Like old money, but fallen on hard times. Used to be something, if that makes sense. So he says it's a supply chain gig. I sell the stuff, collect payment, get back to him, he supplies more product. Average stuff. Until he hands me this."

Ruben turned and reached into the glove compartment, keeping his old grease rag between his hand and the candy stick. When he turned again to his friends, he opened his palm, displaying both.

"I don't know why it made me so suspicious, guys. Tell me if I'm just being paranoid, but is this drugs?"

It took just under an hour for the Flynns to shower and change and meet Ruben at the Sheriff's office in the village.

When Bob Goddard met them in the entry way with a smirk that read What have you brought me this time? they simply handed him a Ziploc baggie containing the paper straw filled with colored sugar, the candy Ruben had been offered by the smooth-talking stranger in the alley.

"Morning, Bob," said Andy. "Do me a favor and have this tested, will you? Ruben here was approached by a stranger in town yesterday, looking for a local to help him drum up some business for his product," he said, dragging out the final word and raising his eyebrows. "Being the smart young man he is, he brought it over to the house. He was suspicious, as am I."

"We certainly don't want someone introducing a cleverly disguised new narcotic into the community," said Sharon. "Especially one that will appeal to the children, as this one certainly will."

"I got the feeling yesterday that was entirely the point," said Ruben. "The pickup says Hope House right on the side. A Place for Children. No way that's a coincidence. Built in market right there," he said, shaking his head in disgust. "Sick."

"Get a young man, known and trusted in the community, to start giving away a sample here and there. It's a big hit. Before you know it, you've got yourself demand. Word gets out. Big money heads this way in the high season. That brings an even bigger payday when word gets around. Bad element. Town is destroyed."

"Andy's right," said Sharon. "We love this place. We've seen what this kind of thing does."

"Hey," said the sheriff. "You don't have to convince me. I've seen this kind of stuff on the internet. Looks harmless, designed to look just like candy. I'll put a rush on it and get right back to you. If it's what it looks like, we'll set something up and try and stop this guy in his tracks. Thanks, Ruben. You did the right thing. Appreciate it, kid."

"No problem, sir. No way I'm letting some thug come in here and hurt these kids."

Sharon and Andy looked on with pride.

They walked him to the corner and bid him good day as he headed off to work. Then, they walked hand in hand toward the library, intent on checking out a few books and movies for the grandkids to enjoy. While the weekend ahead looked perfect for camping, the afternoon forecast showed rain. That meant being trapped inside. Variety was key.

The village library was a source of pride. While small, it was beautifully decorated and piled high with an assortment of books and magazines, movies and games, something for everyone.

While Sharon made her way to the DVD wall, hoping to find a few things to tempt the children, Andy situated himself at one of the computers lining the opposite wall. He was hoping to do a little research on the little candy stick they'd been discussing earlier.

It didn't take long for Sharon to find enough films and books to occupy and entertain her troops at home, so she joined her husband, taking a seat at his side. Leaning close, she studied the screen with him as, together, they read.

From across the room, at another bank of computers, he watched them. Doing some research of his own, he'd turned up some useful information, most of it fluff that was of no interest to him. He had no use for stories of how his former family had saved the day on this occasion or that here in their new community. Heroes, once again! thought Jackson. Photos in front of their home, however, would prove more vital, as might those of Mr. Rusty Beck in front of a place called Hope House.

Before he could stand to go, he heard the familiar music of lilting laughter. He sank against the desktop, a mixture of angst and grief settling in his chest. How beautiful that sound. It had always done something to him. Risking a peek at her, he peered out over the console to see her standing, that Flynn beside her. She stole a kiss before they turned to go. That was another thing he remembered, when Sharon was playful. That was long ago, before she had grown cold and distant.

Who was he kidding? She would have given him the moon had he stuck around to accept it.

He watched them go, hand in hand, talking with great animation, smiling and laughing, completely content with one another. That could have been him, had he bothered to try. Even a little.

Sinking back against his chair, he cursed under his breath. He didn't like himself much when he grew morose. Digging into his pocket, he withdrew a colorful straw. Using his teeth, he tore the very tip of the paper and poured just a few sprinkles onto the tip of his tongue and let them dissolve there. Closing his eyes, he let the feeling chase his demons away for a while. He set the straw down on the console and rubbed his palms against the rough fabric of his pant legs as the drug took effect. Nodding, he stood, pushed his chair in, and walked away.

The straw, he left behind.

Sharon Beck read over the message on her phone one more time. Jim and Linda were being released. They would make a full recovery. For the next several days, they would be staying with their older son and his family. That would allow Mandy to remain at camp in Redding until its conclusion. She sighed in relief. They would be fine.

Her girl was currently sitting in the midst of several others just about her age, having her hair braided. She watched them through the window. A sweet girl, a little older, named Louie, of all things, was twisting her long locks into perfect plaits while the others were giggling away, as young girls should. They seemed so carefree, even here in a home for children without families of their own.

Her son had built this. He had taken all of his own experiences and made something different. With his young partner, another former foster child, he'd created the kind of facility neither of them had ever had. Both had suffered disastrous circumstances before finding their miracles, as they described them. The thought made her an odd mix of cheerful and saddened at the same time.

"Sharon?" she heard. Turning, she smiled at Nicole, the Flynn's daughter, who was also staying at the home that week.

"Have you seen my folks?"

She stood in the doorway with a gentleman Sharon didn't recognize. He was tall, a little older, nice looking. He seemed quiet, maybe even shy.

"Art, this is Rusty's biological mother, who also happens to be named Sharon. She is here, visiting this week. Sharon Beck, this is my step-father, Arthur Robbins. He's come to check in with my brother and me, to see the kids, meet Melanie and Valeria."

Sharon stood and offered her hand. "It's very nice to meet you, Mr. Robbins. I haven't seen your folks, Nicole, but I think they're coming this way after a couple of stops. I do know they were heading into town after their hike this morning."

"Okay, good. Well, why don't we go find the boys. I'm sure they're outside. They live outdoors when they're here. As Dad says, it's good for them to get away from the television and computer games. You'll have to wait to see the girls at the house."

They stepped toward the hallway, and Art paused to turn back.

"It was nice to meet you, Ms. Beck."

"Likewise," she smiled, then retook her seat.

Sharon and Andy found them all on the lawn a short time later. Lunch was being served and the children had settled in at the picnic tables scattered about the yard. Conversation continued, but at about half the previous volume, as spaghetti was slurped enthusiastically all around.

Celina and Sharon saw to the kitchen, allowing Nicole and Drew and their families to visit with Art. Sharon and Andy played host, while Rusty and Lydi tended to the running of the business. Spring break or not, there were bills to pay, supplies to procure, intakes to arrange.

Art was clearly delighted to be with Nicole and Drew, having missed their regular interaction. While he was quite familiar with Jeff, he didn't know Melanie at all. Sam and Seth were glad to see him, though he hardly recognized them as much as they had grown. Little Valeria captured his heart immediately. He looked much lighter than their last meeting.

Sharon watched him from across the table, her hand on her husband's leg, low and out of sight. Leaning against him, she husked in his ear, "Look at him. He's a different man."

"Hmm," he agreed. It had taken years, years to find something other than a tenuous respect for Arthur Robbins. The man had helped to raise his children while he was lost in his own addiction. Even once his sobriety was hard-earned and firmly established, his ex-wife refused to let him see his children. So Art, by association, represented a barrier to his Nicole and Drew. Now, may years later, and having filled a similar role for Sharon's children, he could better appreciate the part Art had played in the lives of his kids, and he was grateful. "He looks happy."

The happiness followed them home, as Art joined them for dinner. He was smitten with Sharon Rose and Sara, who charmed them all with their playful antics. They would proudly show him their dolls and toys, but still went to Papa Andy when they broke and needing fixing.

Their evening wound down and Art followed Drew and Mel back to their place for the evening. He would camp out on the couch so that no one would have to rearrange.

The cabin grew quiet as the children, exhausted by their afternoon and lulled by the delayed rainfall, easily went to bed without complaint. Their parents, usually lured by the rare free evening to the hot tub or the village pub, followed their kids to bed, just as wiped out.

Provenza and Patrice took to their private patio, taking advantage of the silence, and Sharon and Andy did much the same, in the tub.

"It was a good day," she sighed. "With a couple of notable exceptions, and the less said about them, the better."

"It was," he said, placing a kiss at the curve of her neck. He found the skin there warm and damp in the humid room.

"Art looks so much better. Nicole looked so relieved. Sharon and Rusty are looking much less awkward around everyone."

Each comment she made was punctuated by another kiss from her husband.

"Don't you agree, Andy?" she asked, now understanding the direction his thoughts were taking.

"Oh, I do." He lifted her arm a trailed kisses along its length. He then moved to the other, stopping at her shoulder, inspecting the still healing wound there. Grimacing at the puckered skin there and the bruising that remained, he left the most gentle of kisses there, then abandoned his quest in favor of simply holding her against his chest.

She knew in an instant where he mind had gone. With her stronger arm, she reached across her body to cover his hand and sighed when she felt their fingers interlace.

"I know."

A loud clanging, like metal, drew him from a very heavy sleep. He forced his eyes open to find a blinding light seeping through the broken blinds in the window over his cot. When the banging continued unabated, he barked in response.

"Yeah, I hear you. Just a damn minute."

He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the cot. Shaking his head free of the cobwebs that had settled there, he pushed up from the thin mattress and shuffled to the door. Swinging it open, he was met by the old man who was renting him the room, the proprietor of the filling station.

"Here," he barked, shoving an envelope into his hands, then turning on his heel.

"Morning to you too, you old goat," he said to himself. He turned and tossed the envelope onto the bed. First things first, he thought to himself, heading to the bathroom. Quickly relieving himself, he then splashed a handful of water on his face before returning to his bed and picking up the envelope again.

Pulling the cord on the bedside lamp, he illuminated the tiny room so that he could examine the contents. Opening the envelope, he removed a single white sheet of paper and scanned the missive.

Understand, your mission is two-fold. Have you forgotten your original errand? We have a deal. See that you keep it. I know where you are. I know where you all are. I guess I'll have to follow to ensure the job is done.

He stared at the page as his heart rate sped up. It fell from his fingertips and he let it fall. There was work to be done. He knew that. He knew why he was here. He didn't appreciate being pushed into a corner.

Turning to the small bedside table, he pulled a straw from the top drawer and proceeded to steady his nerves. After all, he needed to have a clear head. Rusty Beck was living and working here in town. He had to be in touch with his birth mother. Jack needed that information. If he chose not to be forthcoming? Well, perhaps his other mother was the key. Maybe he'd trade one Sharon for another.

The forecast shifted on them and gifted them a welcome drop in temperatures. While the rare rains in Los Angeles brought with them a heavy humidity in their wake, here in the mountains, they had a tendency to leave behind them a refreshing lightness. It was very pleasant. The only downside was that the rains looked to return halfway into the weekend. Thus, the campout was moved up. They thought nothing of it, save Provenza. School was out for the week. They were already at the disposal of the children.

Work grew to a frenzy in the kitchen and the garage, pre-packing meals and rolling sleeping mats and extra blankets. Volunteers from the church arrived to assist. Fishing poles were readied and first aid boxes were stuffed. They were only hiking to the top of the hill, just above the lake. Truthfully, it wasn't at all far from the Flynn's cabin. There was a stand of trees there, they had found, which would protect them from the night winds. The treetops opened in a way that perfectly framed the moon, as Sharon had described it. No one asked how she knew that.

The pickup was stuffed with supples, Andy's SUV as well. The children attending piled into the two Hope House vans, as well as Drew's seven-seater SUV. Then, with the family of St. Cecelia's gathered to bid them farewell, they were off.

Nicole, Holly, and Emily waved from the front door, their little ones with them. They would stay behind while their husbands went along with the older children. The house parents at the facility would also skip the campout, as there were children too young yet for such an adventure.

The girls took their own children home to help get them fed and down for a nap, looking forward to a rare quiet afternoon. Perhaps Maggie would even let them take over supper preparations as their treat.

Andy and Sharon, Mark and Anne, Brian and Lydi, Drew and Mel set up tents at four corners. Rusty and Ben, Ricky, Greg, and Jeff situated coolers, camp stoves and chairs in between them creating a sort of safety perimeter. A separate, smaller tent, the bathroom, was situated away from the others for privacy, but still within sight. While the rest of the vehicles where left at the base of the hill, the pickup was parked at the second landing, a little closer to them. It allowed for easier unloading, as well as emergency evacuation.

The bed rolls were tossed into the middle of the circle, where the children would be sleeping. There simply weren't enough tents and the kids were keen to sleep under the stars, so it worked out all around. Many of the men had been scouts and were happy to oblige.

Within the hour, they were happily engaged in a variety of activities from leaf pressings to trail hikes. Anne, it turned out, had a hidden talent. She spent the afternoon teaching the kids to use a bow and arrow, and a few of them took to it like champs. Dinner was already underway and it was shaping up to be a perfect evening under a vast canopy of stars.

Grabbing a seat wherever they could find one, they all tucked in to their supper and marveled at the quiet that could be found just a few short miles from town. Making short work of that, they unrolled their bed mats and stretched out. While they were disappointed to learn that fireflies weren't easily found as far west as California, they were intrigued to learn more about the constellations Andy promised could be seen so far from the village lights.

Once supper had been cleared away and the camp lights dimmed, they stared at the night sky, eyes peeled, as he told tales of the Big Bear, Ursa Major, and described the points of light that would help them locate that best known of constellations. He described the living nature around them, effectively explaining any unfamiliar noises they may hear during the night and reminding them that they were visitors in someone else's home.

Before long, most of the children were sleeping or near to it. Sharon and Andy took a look around the area before crawling into their own tent for the night.

It took some doing, getting comfortable on the ground. Sharon still had an arm in a sling. The wound was tender and bruised, though it was healing well. Andy tucked a rolled blanket beneath her side, to support the shoulder, then gathered her close, knowing her tendency to get cold during the night.

With the light of the moon and the song of the owl, they drifted off to sleep, a sense of wonder settling over them and creeping into their dreams.

With the threat of reprisal weighing heavily on his shoulders, he sat at the small desk studying the notes he had made at the library. A plan had begun to take shape in his mind. He just need the stones to carry it out. A little fortification was needed and he had just the thing.

From the top drawer, he pulled what remained of the purple paper straw. There wasn't much left, but it was enough to get him through what he needed to do. He emptied the contents onto his tongue and savored the sensation. The scrap of paper, he wadded up and tossed in the general direction of the waste can in the corner.

A moment later, he rose from his seat, straighten his clothing, and left the small backroom. His destination? Hope House.

The house was usually quiet. It was a little unsettling, actually. The noise of children, their silly banter was really very musical, thought Celina. She was used to things being not quite as loud and rambunctious during the school day, when only the youngest remained behind. Then, they still had lessons, tailored to little hands and inquisitive minds. The sounds, however, were different. High, treble voices chatted, sometimes nonsensically as they worked at puzzles, drew letters, finger painted at tables lined with butcher paper for their protection.

Currently, there was simply no noise. The smallest were down for a nap. Most of the others were off on their highly anticipated outdoor adventure among the trees. House parents Jenny and Mike, had cleared away lunch and were enjoying a rest of their own. Ruben was taking care of the lawn out back while the kids were out of the way and she was seeing to the front flower beds. They were in full bloom, just as Patrice had promised when she'd helped plant them, but the weeds were threatening to choke all of their hard work. Once the beds were free of them, they would be left with a colorful explosion to delight the senses.

"Excuse me, miss," was heard over her shoulder.

Sitting back on her haunches, she rubbed the back of her gloved hand across her brow and eyed the stranger through her sunglasses.

"Yes?"

She didn't like the look of him, standing there in wrinkled khakis and an untucked collared shirt. He wore no uniform, no suit, nothing which identify him as someone who belonged on their property. The village was close-knit and everyone knew everyone else. Even tourists tended to have a certain look to them, a look this man lacked. Celina had come a long way from the street, but the street had left its mark.

"Can I help you with something?"

Jack took a single step forward, hands in pockets, eyes surveying the property.

"Yes, I was looking for the manager. Mr. Beck, I believe is his name."

Celina rose to stand before him, slipping her gardening gloves off, letting them fall.

"It is. And you are?"

"Looking to make a donation." His eyes fell. "A bequest, really. I've heard a great deal about your establishment. I've been looking for a place to park my assets. My attorney suggested your place. I've no children of my own, and I'd like to do some good after I'm gone."

That sounded good, didn't it? He coughed into his sleeve, for good measure. It couldn't hurt.

"Uh, Mr. Beck?" he reminded her. "I don't want to keep you from your work, and I really am short on time, you could say," he said with downcast eyes.

Celina studied the man, suddenly unsure of what to make of him.

"Mr. Beck isn't here at the moment. I can give you his card. It has his contact information on it. He's out of the office right now."

"I would love a tour of the facility. It would be nice to know what my money would be supporting, you know?" And even better if the boy wasn't here.

"I'm sure we could arrange that as soon as one of the directors is back in the office, no problem."

"Well, I have time right now. I'm not sure when I will again," he said, letting his posture droop a little.

"Well, I'm afraid that's against policy, sir. If you would like to leave your contact information, I'll be happy to pass it along. We can call you and set up a tour and a meeting with Rusty or Lydi as soon as they're back in the office."

Jack took a step back. He needed a look inside, without tipping Rusty off.

"No, that's perfectly alright. I don't have anything like that on me. I'm staying at the inn on the village square and I don't have the number with me. I'll stop back by in a few days. How about that?" he asked as he stepped away from her.

"That's just fine, sir. We'll look forward to that."

Jack made a hurried retreat up the road toward the park, disappearing in the trees. He had another address to check. The library really was an underused resource. First, though, he needed to make a stop by his room at the filling station. There was something in his drawer calling his name.

The new front porch was fast becoming a favorite feature of some in the house, namely Maggie. She enjoyed watching the trees bend in the cool breezes that visited them each spring. The tall California pines swayed gently against a sky of cornflowers, reminding her of her early days in the north. On occasion, she brought out a box of old letters sent to her by her late husband over the many years.

At her feet were her great-grand babies, the apples of her eye. Sharon Rose, Willa and Sara sat chatting about blocks and baby dolls, while little Andrew and James were trying to shove most all of it into their mouths. Their mothers were talking about filling the little plastic pool out back and letting them splash to their hearts' content. With Patrice and lieutenant out for the evening, it would mean a very quiet house indeed. Getting the little ones down early might mean an evening in the hot tub for their tired moms. Maggie quite agreed.

Emily stood and headed for the back yard. There was a tub to clean out.

"Hey, ya bum. Why don't you make yourself useful for a change, huh?"

Jack sat on his cot, running his hand through his hair until it took on a life of its own. His stop for fortification had taken a little longer than planned. He'd opened a fresh straw, taking a little more than usual. He hadn't planned to pass out.

"Yeah, I'm coming. Keep your pants on."

Shoving his feet into his shoes, he stood and wobbled. Then, he shuffled toward the door, opened it, and looked at the old fellow at the counter.

"What?" he barked without grace.

"Cal Pinckney out in Moonridge needs these. Some caps and plugs. Take'em out there for me, will ya?"

Jack peered into the box. He was right, a new set of hubcaps and a set of spark plugs.

"Why doesn't he order them online and have them delivered like everyone else these days?"

"Because he's one hundred and two doesn't own a computer. Can you take them out there or not?"

Jack looked at him, then at the car keys in his hand. His ticket to getting where he needed to go.

"Yeah, yeah. No problem. Happy to," he said in a softer, more amiable tone.

He took the keys and the box, and headed out the door.

It wasn't a long drive to the Moonridge and he was able to make the delivery without issue. He did notice, however, that Mr. Pinckney was hardly a day over fifty and was typing away on a iPad when he opened the door. When questioned about his choice to use an old-fashioned filling station over the faster, cheaper option of online shopping, Mr. Pinckney surprised him.

"That old man is good people. Grouchy as hell, but good people, all the same. He's owned that station since my dad was a boy. If he doesn't do more business than the occasional tank of gas, he won't survive."

With that, he took his leave. It was certainly something to think about. Maybe there were still good men in the world. Too bad he was beyond saving.

Just up the road, there was a cul-de-sac. He pulled the car to a stop under the shade of the trees. From the backseat, he grabbed a few items, then climbed from the driver's seat.

Donning an old sweater, complete with patches at the elbows, and leaning on a walking stick lifted from the vestibule of the local church, he took to the road on foot. Around his neck was a pair of binoculars, which served a dual purpose- giving him a window into the lives he needed to examine, and an excuse to be in the neighborhood.

"Pool's full," said Emily. "I'm going to pour a pot of warm water in it, though. Otherwise, I'm afraid it'll be too cold. It hasn't been baking in the sun all day, you know?"

"Oh, I do," said Holly. "Willa doesn't care at all, but James won't do it. He hates it cold, don't you, little man?" she asked her boy. Picking him up, she kissed his nose, then perched him on her hip. "I think you need a change before we do anything else. You stink, my sweet."

"Such fun," said Nicole, rolling her eyes. "I can't wait to be finished with all of that. We're so, so close. I'm going to go grab some swim diapers from the back of the van. Anybody need one?"

"Yes!" said both, causing the trio to chuckle.

"Coming right up," she said, leaving Maggie to watch the little ones.

Opening the back of the van, the contents toppled out, having shifted during the drive.

"Oh!" she cried, trying, and failing, to catch multiple items at once. Dropping to the ground, she began raking books and games, a duffle of extra clothes, and the odd battery back toward her feet, when she felt the approach of another.

"Here, let me help."

She looked up to find an elderly man resting a cane against the rear of the van and, with considerable effort, lower himself to her side. He assisted her in gathering her belongings and returning to the back of the van before pushing up to a standing position once again.

"Thank you so much. Where did you even come from?"

"Oh, you're most welcome, dear. I was just enjoy this beautiful evening. The pines are beautiful this time of year and those birds have the loveliest song."

"Are you a bird watcher?"

"Oh, I am," he agreed. "Nothing like it. Do you live here? This is just lovely, just the perfect setting."

"It belongs to my family, yes. We're just visiting for the week. We love it here, yes. My brothers and sisters come here as often as we can. The more, the merrier, as my parents always say."

He chewed on that for a moment, finding it sour. Parents. She certainly wasn't one of his. Must be a Flynn.

"Big family? Beautiful. Family is everything, isn't it?"

"Very big, and yes, it is."

Over her shoulder, he saw the front door swing open, a much older woman peeking outside. He recognized her. Maggie O'Dwyer. Quickly, he took a small step back behind the van and beamed at the young woman.

"Well, I won't keep you. I'm off in search of the illusive Mountain Plover."

He bowed his head, bid her farewell and took to the road again.

Nicole managed to close the back of the van. With an armful of swim diapers, she returned to the house, eager to tell them about the most gracious of strangers on the road.

Jack hobbled up the road a ways more before ducking into the thick growth of carefully planted shrubs and hedges. There was a trellis with colorful climbing roses around what looked to be a newer addition to the house. He was able to climbed around the edge, eyes darting here and there, spotting cameras he was sure would spring to life come sundown.

Playful laughter could be heard around back and as he carefully peered around the far corner of the house, he found the source. The backyard was very large, impressive even. The lawn was lush and green and reached all the way down to the lake. There was a second home built on the far side of the lot and on the opposite side, a towering treehouse. Beneath that, a baby pool where a group of children sat splashing away. Beside them, a trio of young women, one of whom was very, very familiar. It had been some time.

Emily.

Long and lithe, large round eyes. All arms and legs, his little ballerina girl. Older now, she was the very image of her mother. One of the children was hers, he knew. He'd kept up, in spite of her. The internet was very helpful. He watched her interact with the other two women, and the one baby boy. He must be the one, the way she held him, looked at him, just as a mother would.

"Uh oh," she said, getting a whiff of him. "Do you have something special for Momma, Andrew?"

She stood up, settled the boy on her hip, and made for the house, waving the smell away.

Andrew. Well, how do you like that. His face began to burn.

"When do they get back down from the hill?" asked Holly. "I have an idea."

"Rusty said day after tomorrow," said Nicole. "After lunch. Maybe we can have something ready for them at Hope House for dinner. Patrice and the lieutenant will be home by then. Dinner here will be covered."

"That's a good idea. I was thinking water balloons to cool them off. Oh gosh, can you imagine the line for the showers when they get back? Uh, the smell."

Nicole joined her in laughter loud enough to grab the attention of their children.

"We should all try to do something in town together before the break's over," said Emily returning to the yard. "You know Mom and Pop will watch them for us. Of course, they'll need another vacation as soon as we're gone."

Pop? Really? He'd heard enough.

He turned and slunk along the wall until he reached the front corner of the house again. Carefully checking each direction, he eased out onto the street again. His plan was taking a different turn.

Andy stood to the side, watching the children play, and snapped a few pictures with his cell phone. Seth and Louella were leading the others through an obstacle course laid out by Rick and Ben, while Sam practiced with the bow and arrow. They were having a marvelous time. Andy sent off the pictures to his daughter.

Oh, that's the best, Dad. Looks like everyone is having fun. Hope Sharon isn't overdoing it. Hey. Holly had a terrific idea. What if we filled a bunch of water balloons. We can drive them up or one of you can pop back down. It would make a great surprise for your last day. Let me know what you guys think. Love you.

Along with it, she attached a photo of the five smallest grandchild, all together in the pool, silly smiles all around.

He found his wife sitting in a folding chair, reading to a group of children who preferred not to run and climb. Leaning over her shoulder, he showed her the display on his phone, making her tilt her head and smile.

"Precious," she said, to which he kissed the curve of her shoulder and replied, "Yes, you are."

The children all reacted with varying degrees of delight and disgust.

Dinner was a spirited affair, after which a game of flashlight tag commenced. It had been another very full day.

"Isn't it amazing how much fun they've all had, and not a handheld device in sight?" remarked Sharon.

"Speak for yourself," said her son, checking his messages on his phone.

"Just can't stay away, can you, Rusty?"

"Well, I do have to keep up with things at the house," he said, without looking up.

"I know," she said. "That's what I mean. Look at you. So devoted. Makes me happy to see you in exactly the right place, honey. You love what you do. You have this beautiful family. You're so happy, sweetheart. Makes me happy, too. It's all I've ever wanted for you. That's all."

Rusty put his phone in his back pocket and rested his hand on her shoulder.

"You're such a mom," he said, then leaned forward to kiss her cheek. "All I have is due to you. So thank you."

Knowing her as he did, he turned and walked away before she could protest her part in his success. Or start to cry, which was even worse.

She was left a little stunned, watching him walk away until she felt her husband step up behind her. Sharon would know the feel of him anywhere, his scent, his touch. It was instinctive. Leaning back against his chest, her head on his shoulder, she melted into him.

"He okay?" he asked, to which she only nodded. "You okay?" Another nod. "Let's get ready to turn in. Nic had an idea I want to share with you. See what you think."

"Okay," she simply said, turning to follow him. "Tell me all about it."

Jack shuffled through the doorway separating the small room in which he slept and the office area of the filling station. There, the proprietor was hard at work, stacking boxes along the shelves, clearing away the dust that had gathered since the last cleaning.

"Here, let me help with that," he said. "If you try to reach the top shelf, you'll fall. I've got a few inches on you."

The old man turned and eyed him over his stooped shoulder. His boarder wasn't wrong, but he also wasn't nice. Not usually. Not that those who rented the space in back were known for their manners. The room was registered as an approved address for state parolees. They weren't known to be stand-up citizens.

"Okay," he said, dragging out the final syllable. He stepped out of the way and allowed Jack to take over.

"No problem. It occurs to me that I'm staying in your back room for dirt cheap. The least I could do is not be such an ass. When I ran that errand yesterday, I realized you didn't have to trust me with your car, or to represent you to a customer, but you did. I should be grateful, and I am. You're giving me a chance at a fresh start. It feels good. So I'm going to do better. You need help, I'll help. You need a delivery made, I'm your guy. Alright? It feels good to be useful again."

He laid it on thick, although he wasn't lying. Not completely anyway.

The old man wasn't so sure he believed his him, but he was willing to give him a shot. He had, after all, made yesterday's delivery and brought the car back in one piece.

"Well, I do have a set of tires that need moving. They need to be loaded onto the back of the truck and taken out to the Davis place. His are practically bald. These just came in this morning. He'd drive over and pick them up, but you can see the belts on one of his. It won't make it to town."

"Of course, not. He could break his neck. I'll take them up there. No problem."

He got to work, and work it was. He loaded the set of four tires onto the back of the truck, then washed up in the back of the station. Before heading out to the Davis place, he made a quick call on the payphone out front.

"Let me repeat it back to you," said the voice on the other end of the line. " A dozen handheld flashlights, a roll of wax paper, and a box of chocolate bars?"

"Yes," said Jack. "Apparently, Rusty got a wild idea for some activity tonight. Something to keep the kids entertained. Plus, someone forgot the chocolate, and you can't have s'mores without them!" he chuckled. "He said to just charge it to Hope House and he'll pop in next week and settle the account, if you please."

"That's not a problem at all, Mr.?"

"Uh, Ray. Name's Ray. I'll be in shortly. Thanks again."

He hopped into the pickup and headed toward town. Just a volunteer, picking up some extra supplies. All for the kids. Being new to town, it would only make sense if he didn't know one hilltop from another. Asking for direction would't be out of the ordinary.

"You think Pop envisioned more than four hundred when you mentioned water balloons?" Emily asked, stooped over the hose.

"No, but then I didn't picture this contraption filling so many at once," said Holly. "This is awesome. "I'm gonna hide it later, then spring it on Rick when he least expects it."

Emily looked at her sister-in-law. "I love how your mind works. Please promise me there will be a hidden camera."

Nicole plucked another bunch of balloons from the hose and tossed them into the cooler, keeping an eye on the children playing under the shade of the trees nearby.

"Well he'll be here in about an hour to get the cooler, so let's get it filled."

"Can I help?"

The girls turned toward the back door and gave their guest a smile. "Sure. Jump in, Sharon."

"I made some cookies with Patrice this afternoon. They're Mandy's favorite. Do you think Lt. Flynn would mind taking them back with him? We've never been apart before. I thought she might like them."

"I don't think he'd mind at all. I bet you could even go back with him. The cooler's going to be really heavy. He can use the help. You could stay over with them and come back tomorrow. Surprise Mandy. I bet she'd like that."

Sharon stopped and thought about that. It would be nice to see her girl in action, enjoying the outdoors, making new friends, even more so to join in. She wouldn't want to make things uncomfortable for Rusty and his family though.

"I know what you're thinking," said Emily. "And it's okay, really. You should go."

She mostly believed her own words. Rusty's first mother had come a long way. Everyone was getting along just fine. Her parents had been very welcoming to her and her daughter. The one who seemed the most unsettled by the situation was Rusty. He was glad to see them, yes. It was the mixing of the two worlds, though, that seemed to unmoor him.

"He'll be here soon, if you want to pack an overnight bag," said Holly, in a singsong voice.

She chewed at her lower lip and Emily wondered if her brother had ever noticed that both of his mothers had the same nervous habit.

He would have liked it darker, but then again, he didn't know the terrain well enough for that.

Jack drove to the edge of Moonridge and parked at the base of the hill, not far from the other cars, but well hidden by a stand of trees on the far side of the road. He stuck to the trail which, though unmarked, was well-worn. Less than halfway up, he could hear the voices of children, laughing, playful, and knew he was close. Another hit from his candy stick spurred him on.

Andy and the other Sharon drove the pickup back to the upper landing and carefully rolled the large cooler down a pair of ramps attached to the tailgate. The wheels were large and sturdy, and would need to be for the final climb to the top of the hill. It wasn't far, though, and with the two of them, shouldn't be hard.

He felt his cell phone buzz in his pocket as he slipped his hands into a pair of work gloves. From the back of the truck, he grabbed another and tossed them to his unlikely companion.

When the phone buzzed again, he shook his head. Wonder what she forgot.

With one to pull and the other to push, they set off.

The fading light was both a help and a hinderance, thought Jack. There was space enough between the sparse trees around the campsite that he could see them all just fine. The problem was, if he wasn't careful, they could easily spot him too.

They had erected a quartet of tents at each of four corners, thereby setting up a perimeter of sorts. The spaces between where filled with coolers, for food and water, he presumed. A camp stove was present, a variety of mis-matched folding chairs, and other such camping equipment, some of which he recognized. Sharon was always trying to get him outdoors with her and the kids when they were small. Family bonding or some such nonsense. He could bond just fine with air-conditioning. The problem, according to her, was that he didn't. Well, who could have stood it, honestly? She might have been looker once, but after the kids came along, her shape was gone. He couldn't imagine the years had been very kind. And her attitude. Cold and aloof. No, he was right to leave when he did.

He heard the laughter ring through the night. Peering through the trees, they seemed to be seated around the fire ring. S'mores or ghost stories or whatever folks did on campouts, he thought. The children seemed happy enough, giggling. There were some voices recognizable, too. His Ricky, he heard speaking, the familiar baritone rising and falling as he seemed to spin a tale which was captivating his crowd. Goodness he was tall.

There were more than a dozen kids, maybe two. He didn't need their attention. Kids were noisy. He would wait for the right opportunity. He just needed a word with his old pal, Rusty. Which mom will it be?

Her laughter sang, that low alto he remembered from the rare Sundays in mass. It sounded somewhat separate from the others, resonant, more like solo and accompaniment. Was she here on the hilltop too? Well, that was even better.

Tiptoeing through the grassy vines, he found her. Tracking her movements, she appeared to be cleaning up after supper, scraping pans and rinsing utensils. Most of it seemed to be paper and went into a plastic garbage bag. Twirling the end of it, she hoisted it over her shoulder and stepped away from the group.

Sharon gestured to the others with a nod of her head, indicating that she was taking the trash to the Bear Box located several feet from the campsite. Mark stood up in offering and she waved him off. She needed to stretch her legs. With the heavy bag in one hand and a flashlight in the weaker, she stayed on the trail, illuminated by pickets, planted every few feet, which bore reflectors.

From his place behind the trees, he followed her, watching the glow from her flashlight dance around her legs. In her shorts, they looked a mild long. Had they always looked that good? Paying more attention to her physique than he was to the path cost him. Stepping on a twig, caught her attention.

Sharon was no novice in the woods, nor was she easily spooked. What she was, however, was a cop of thirty years. She was alert to her environs. They were alone up here, had been for two days, without issue. These were the hills above their own home, for Heaven's sake. They knew the area quite well. It was precisely why it was chosen. When she heard the snapping of sticks, she froze, listening intently to the sounds around her. Well aware of night sounds, animals and insects, she wasn't overly concerned but for the more deliberate, human aspect of it.

She covered the short remaining distance to the Bear Box, unlocked it, and tossed the load inside. After she locked it once again, she turned back toward the others, but was stopped in place.

Before she could even think of raising the flashlight to see his face, a stranger, tall and hulking before her, raised a knife instead.

"Hush," he said, his voice raspy and graveled. "It's you or those kids, hear me? Let's go. Down the hill."

He grabbed her hard by her upper arm and turned her. Out of sheer reflex, she called out, not loudly, but enough to spook her captor.

"My arm. Please don't do that. I've just had surgery there." She kept her voice low so as not to anger him, but kept talking to buy herself time to think of her next move.

The stranger moved his heavy hand from her right shoulder to her left and then gripped her upper arm.

That small ounce of compassion struck her as odd, as did something in his voice. Not the rough timbre, but the cadence, the pronunciation.

"Thank you," she whispered. "And thank you for not frightening the children. Whatever it is you want, I'm sure we can work something out without hurting them."

"We'll see, won't we?" he huffed.

There it was again. So familiar.

Anne stood lighting the lanterns that hung at each of the four corners of their site. While the campfire gave off plenty of light for their needs, it didn't do much for the mosquitos that had come to visit following the rain. The lanterns contained citronella, which would keep them at bay.

She paused in her task when she heard what sounded like her friend calling out and worried for moment that she had fallen on the path.

"Hey there. You okay?" asked her husband, having noticed the look of concern on her face. He stepped up beside her and ran his hand along her back until it came to rest at the base of her neck.

"I, uh. I'm not sure. I thought I heard something, maybe Sharon. I'm afraid she may have fallen. Not a scream, obviously. We all would have heard it. More subdued than that. Like under her breath. I don't know. Maybe too many years of looking over my shoulder."

"Or maybe you're a good friend who has good instincts, huh? Grab a flashlight. We'll walk down to the Box and make sure. She's probably on her way back."

Anne rose up on tiptoe and kissed her husband. "Thank you."

Flashlight in hand, they did just that.

"You okay back there?" Andy asked over his shoulder. "Not too much, is it?"

Sharon Beck was huffing a bit, but wasn't about to complain, as nice as it was to be welcomed at last.

"No. You're doing most of the work. It's fine. You really think it'll be okay, my showing up?"

Andy sighed. Her vulnerability was hauntingly familiar, always worrying if his kids really wanted him around, or if his mistakes were just too many and too deep.

"I think your daughter will be happy to see you. I think Rusty will be too. Sharon and I are pleased to have you. I think we've all finally come to a place where the awkwardness is mostly gone."

"Rusty and I have gotten to a good place over the last several years, but it seems, I don't know, tense, here in a way it's not when he visits us at our place."

"Well," said Andy, "he's made a life for himself here, a family and a livelihood at Hope House. He's very protective of Ben and the boys, of all the kids in his care. Big Bear may be big, but our little part of it is pretty insular. It took a good while for us to feel accepted here. It isn't like LA. You can't just blend in. I think Rusty just feels more comfortable with the two parts of his family separate. Good or bad, that's the way it has been for quite some time, so that's what's familiar to him."

"You mean he's always going to be nervous that I'm gonna shake up his status quo?" she asked, surprising judgement-free.

Andy chuckled, "Something like that. Hey, I've been there with my own kids. I'm still there with my ex-wife, or I should say, I'm there all over again. That's another story entirely. It's a never-ending work in progress, but it will always be worth it for a second chance at a future with the kids we've disappointed in the past."

"When did you become a philosopher, Lt. Flynn?"

"Ha!" he laughed. "My wife says my nephew is rubbing off on me."

They were just nearing the top of the hill where the trail markers would pick up and lead them to the campsite when they heard voices. Andy almost called out in greeting, when he stopped. Something in what he heard gave him pause.

"You know, if you tell me what it is you need, maybe I can save you the trouble. There are almost two dozen people back there. One of them is going to notice it taking longer than it should to take out the trash."

"Well, then we'd better get a move on," said the stranger, giving her an impatient shove.

"Hey," she said, growing impatient herself. "That's not necessary. I'm going with you, not fighting you. You haven't told me who you are or what you want." Her fear had given way to anger, her voice growing in volume and intensity.

"Hey, keep it down, will you?"

Suddenly, she spun on him, flashlight in hand, and brought it hard across his face. It wasn't her dominant arm, still in a sling, but from the sound of metal on bone, it had been enough.

As he bent low at the waist, hands covering his face, she reared back and, with as much force as she could, planted a foot at the juncture of his head and shoulder and shoved him to the ground. The momentum carried her with it, falling to her own knees.

He reached for her blindly, grabbing her by the hair and jerked her face close to his. In his other hand, he held the knife.

Moonlight peeled between the treetops, framing them in its glow. Face to face, his covered in crimson from the nose she'd shattered, hers highlighted by eyes widened in sudden recognition.

"Jack! What the hell!"

Any other time, she might have simply shoved him away. Even drunk and sloppy, he wasn't hard to handle. This, however, was a different beast entirely. His eyes blazed. His breath came and went in short puffs of sour air. While he'd lost a considerable amount of weight in prison, his face was bloated, almost moon-shaped. His pupils were large, his lips dry and flaking and when he spoke, she saw the early signs of decay on his teeth. Meth.

"What the hell? What the hell, Sharon? Funny you should ask that, Sharon. You put me through hell, take up with that bastard, Flynn, keeping my kids from me. Next thing I know, they're calling him Pop. I got grandkids I don't know. I'm in hell, bitch, and you put me here. You owe me."

"Jack, you're not making a lick of sense, as usual. You just got out of prison. You should be making a fresh start, not"

"That's right, but how am I supposed to do that? Huh? I've got nothing to my name. That's where you come in."

"I'm not giving you a dime, Jack."

"You don't have to, baby. That's all lined up. I've just got to do one simple job and you're going to help me."

"The hell I am, Jackson"

"Oh, get up," he said, grabbing her by the arm.

She cried out and pulled away from him, not even trying to run. Wrapping one arm across her body, she closed her eyes, breathing through a wave of pain and tears.

"Sharon!" they heard. "You out here?"

"Yes!" she called, not caring what Jack had to say. She hooked her elbow and aimed for his chin, managing to make contact.

As he cursed at the top of his lungs, she made for the trail, her progress slowed by the darkness.

"Get back here, you bitch!" he called and scrambled after her.

Andy knew those voices. Dropping the cooler, he called a quick Stay here, and took off in the direction of the noise.

Rusty saw Mark and Anne leave the campground and the look on their faces was not one of a couple looking for a moonlight stroll. He had seen his mother leave with the trash only moments before. Taking to the trail and using the light from his cellphone, he followed them.

Anne spotted them just as Jack caught up to his former wife. As they entered a clearing, distinguished by moving shadows made by the moonlight reaching, like fingers, through tree branches swaying lazily in the breezes from the lake, he had once again secured her to himself.

With one arm low around her waist, the other pulled tightly around her neck and clutching his knife, he was less man and all creature.

Anne and Mark stopped short. His instinct was to pulled his wife behind him but, as a former SWAT commander, Anne was not inclined to agree. She stepped up alongside him, hands raised and addressed the pair.

"I don't know what's going on here, but I guarantee you, here is where it's going to end."

"Oh, I don't think so."

Sharon tried to slow her breathing and settle her mind. One hand was raised and hanging onto the arm at her neck, the other simply tucked close to her side, of little use to her.

"Jackson," she said, managing a calm she did not feel at present. "Tell me what this is all about. I know this isn't just your usual tirade, a litany of my wrongs. You said you had a job to do. Tell me what it is that you need so you can get the hell out of here."

Just then, her son stepped to the edge of the tree line.

"Ah, Rusty Beck. Impeccable timing, as always."

They group turned, as one, and found Rusty. Looking again at Sharon, they watched her face for any sign of a plan. Anne, especially, was intent on her eyes. All she saw was the barely discernible shake of a head.

"What do you want, Jack?" he asked, a noticeable edge to the man's name. "You've come at the worst possible time, as I'm sure you know. So, let's get on with it. What's it going to take to get you away from here, right now?"

"Oh, so bold. You're all grown up now, aren't you Mr. Man? Fine. I'll tell you what I want. Sharon."

As all eyes shifted to the woman in his grip. His smile hardened.

"No, the other one."

He tiptoed through the underbrush, keeping his steps just as quiet as he could. At his side, he carried the only weapon he could grab on his way to find the others. Drawn by voices filled with anger and fear, instinct kicked in, the impulse to protect.

"I don't understand. How do you even know Sharon Beck?" asked the woman clutched tightly against him.

"It doesn't matter," said her boy. "You leave her out of this."

"Can't do that, Rusty. She's entirely the point. Her baby daddy," he said with a smirk, "wants to see her and the kid and he's not a very patient guy, in case you haven't noticed."

"Again, I ask you, Jack, what have you got to do with Gary? How do you even know him?"

Anne watched. Rusty was angry and frightened. Jackson was spiraling. Mark was just trying to shield her, bless him. Sharon was keeping her cool. This maniac was talking, explaining. They were getting answers and buying time.

"I'm out, but I got nothing left. He's a third-striker, but he's got a contacts. He's not real happy to know Sharon and the kid are out living the good life while he's stuck doing twenty-five to life. I get her for him, he gets me a new start. I deserve that much. I'm a lawyer, for god's sake, and I'm living out of the back of a gas station."

They all stared at one another, chests heaving. The man was mad.

"So, which one's it going to be, huh? Which mom, Rusty? Tell me where to find Beck and I'm out of here. Otherwise, I take Sharon until you're ready to make a trade."

"Not going happen, Jack."

"It's fine," said Sharon. "Let's go."

She stared at her son and gave him a curt nod, willing him to understand. She wasn't going anywhere with the man.

"Wait," came an entirely new player to the game. "Just wait."

"Mom," said Rusty. "Mom, no."

She stepped into the clearing, arms instinctively raised and away from her body. She'd heard enough. This was all because of her and it was too much.

"I don't know where my kid is," she lied, staring at her son. "I sent her away for her own protection. That's the truth. Gary already hurt one of my kids. I wasn't letting him do the same to the other. You can take me if you want, but I'll only run away. You're not getting her."

Jack seemed to think it over. It wasn't the deal he'd made, but he couldn't return empty-handed. That much had been made crystal clear. Another had already been dispatched to help speed his efforts. He had to have something to show for them.

What happened next was as fast as it was confusing.

Jack stilled and his eyes widened as he felt the sharp tip of a knife at his own neck.

"How do you like that, you sick son of a bitch?" said Andy. "Now, drop your knife, you piece of filth, and let my wife go."

With his free hand, Andy reached around Jack until he felt her shaking hand searching for his. Grabbing it, he slowly pulled her free of the other man's hold.

Slumping in frustration, though not yet defeat, Jack dropped his knife.

Anne rushed forward and pulled both arms around behind his back while Andy drew his wife into the safety of his arms.

Jack suddenly roared against his restraints. Anne, much smaller, but deceptively strong, held on, placing a knee to the small of his back.

From the darkness and his hiding place in the bushes, an unseen warrior struck. Before Jack could throw Anne from his back, a searing pain nailed his chest and he screamed in agony.

All eyes were drawn to him, and then to the direction from which the arrow had flown. Out stepped their unexpected hero, young Sam, bow in hand. An apt pupil, indeed.

When the sheriff arrived, much more quickly than they might have imagined, he found them in much the same state. He brought with him Patrice and the lieutenant. The former went to Sharon, checking her over. The latter simply wasn't sending his wife alone, nor was he going to be left out.

Sharon sat on the ground, leaning against her husband. Her son rested nearby, as did his other mother. Andy ran his fingers gently up and down his wife's arm, which was giving her a good deal of pain.

Anne had taken charge of Jack who, despite the arrow causing only a flesh wound, was carrying on as if he'd be shot.

"Jack, you're ridiculous. Do you really think I'd teach archery to children with bullet points?"

"Ah," he grabbed at his chest. "Still hurts like a bitch."

Anne chuckled. "Good."

Mark sat on a downed log, Sam beside him. He'd sent word to the others that they had a situation and, as much as he'd like to get the boy back to the campsite, he was now involved. Sam was steady, no longer a child. As he told it, his grandmother had gone off to take out the trash. When she hadn't come back and the others had gone looking for her, he decided to follow. The bow and arrow had been his constant companion since learning to use them. They were already in hand. While shaken by the sight that met him, his grandmother held in the clutches of one intent on doing her harm, he was fine with his actions. It had stopped him after all.

Ricky came dashing down the path, stopping short at the sight of his mother. While physically fine, with the notable exception of visible pain on her face, she was clearly shaken, as was his Pop. Then he heard the sickening bile that was his father's native tongue spewing forth across the clearing.

"Aw hell."

"Language, Richard," said his mother, to which Andy chucked against her.

"Actually, that was my first thought as well, babe."

Sheriff Goddard, it turned out, had been summoned by Sharon Beck. She had called 911 as soon as Andy had left her side. He took their statements while he waited for his deputy to arrive and cart Jack away. The man seemed to be changing before their eyes, decompressing, coming unwound, which made him think.

From is shirt pocket, he drew an evidence bag containing a familiar, colorful object.

"Hey, Raydor. Looking for this?"

The following evening they reconvened at the Flying Monkey with tales to tell. The vans had deposited the happy, exhausted children at Hope House where a meal and showers awaited, along with house parents to take over. A grateful Rusty and Lydi were then able to head home with their own families.

Home, for evening, was with the greater Flynn family. Grateful hugs were exchanged and a warm meal was shared. Showers were, perhaps, the most welcome of welcomes.

Andy found his wife there, her forehead leading against the wall, pillowed on one forearm. Her other was still nestled protectively against her body. She seemed to be measuring her breaths, whether it was to control pain or emotion, he couldn't be sure, but it didn't matter.

Disrobing, he joined her, coming to stand at her back and gently pulling her to lean against his chest. He brought both arms around her, bearing her weight, supporting her shoulder so that she could simply let go.

"I'm sorry," he said before she could.

Angling her head toward the curve of his neck, she tearfully asked, "What do you have to be sorry for?"

Pressing his lips closer to her ear, he very clearly said, "No more than you. Okay?"

Her only response was a hum, soft and low, vibrating against him.

"Tomorrow, we'll go have that shoulder checked. Please don't argue with me. You got tossed around like a sack of potatoes out there. I want to know for sure your internal sutures are holding."

"Okay."

The lack of argument worried him. Perhaps the pain was enough to stifle any retort. More likely, though, it was the mess with Jack. That, he had no words of assurance for, none that wouldn't sounds like empty platitudes anyway.

"I have an idea. A bit out there, so indulge me, okay? How about we go to bed. I'll get your pain pills, rub that shoulder, if you think it'll help, and we'll have a good cry."

She turned in his arms and, looping her good one around his waist, proceeded to do just that.

They missed their hike to the top of the hill come the following day. Exhaustion pulled at them, bid them stay a while longer in bed. When they did finally make their way into the kitchen, they found their children.

At the puzzled looks on their faces, Ricky stood and went to his mom.

"Patrice and the lieutenant took the lot of them to Hope House to play the day away. Don't worry, Anne and Mark are there too, for extra protection. Even Art went along. Said he didn't care where he got to play with the kids, as long as he did.

That brought a weak smile to her lips.

"Coffee," said Holly, offering them a pair of mugs. "Careful. Hot."

"Come sit down," said Emily, making room on the couch.

Sharon accepted the invitation, but kept her husband's hand in hers, tugging him behind her. She got settled and tucked herself against him, smiling when he pulled the quilt from the back of the sofa and draped it across her lap.

"Why do I get the feeling you all are trying to handle your mother?"

"Um, we're not stupid, Mom," said Ricky. "We know better than that. We just wanted to talk to you. We have some things we think you need to hear."

Sharon looked at them, their combined children and their spouses, each of them so dear to her heart.

"Okay. Proceed."

They looked at one another and nodded in agreement.

"I want to apologize," said Ricky. "It's all my fault Jack came out here. You could have been ki"

"No, no, no," said Emily. "It's not your fault at all, Ricky." She looked at her brother, then at her mother. "It's mine. I've been too hard on him. I don't answer when he calls and I"

"Guys, stop," said Rusty. "He came up here for my mom. Every time my two worlds mix, there's a problem, and it's because"

"Stop. All of you, stop."

Sharon sat up suddenly, causing the blanket to fall to the floor. She was shaking, tears forming.

"That's enough. You're being ridiculous, all of you. It is not your fault, Richard, or yours, Em, and it is not your fault, Rusty Beck. Your mother did not bring this all down upon us. She came to us for help. She had no way of knowing someone would come all the way out here to find her, least of all Jackson," whose name she spat. "What the hell?"

It was silent. Their little attempt at getting her out of her head, making her realize she was not responsible for the raving antics of Jack Raydor, might have backfired. Just a tad.

"Mom," said Ricky. "Language."

That afternoon they had a courtesy briefing with the sheriff. Sharon and Andy, along with Sharon Beck, made their way to Bob Goddard's office in town and were warmly greeted.

"Sharon, Andy," I trust everyone is alright today?"

"Everyone is fine. Thanks Bob," said Andy, keeping a protective arm around his wife. "Bob, this is Sharon Beck. Sharon is Rusty's biological mother. She's staying with us this week, in light of some threats that may have started some of this. According to Jack last night, Sharon, this one," he said, gesturing toward Beck, "is who he was instructed to find. And her daughter."

"Gary, that's um, he fathered my daughter. He put a hit out on his own parents. We all live together. He was willing to hurt his own parents to send me a message. Then he sent someone up here to press the point."

Bob Goddard opened the file in front of him and slid it across the desk to his friends.

"I've made some calls since you reached out to me with the specimen Ruben was given. It seems your former husband and Mr. Lewis were both in Pelican Bay for the last eight months. That is the point of contact. As to this," he said, lifting the evidence baggie. "Meth. Laced with fentanyl. It's new. Haven't seen this strain before. I sent my guys out to the place where Mr. Raydor has been staying and they found more. I've already sent it to San Bernardino. They'll get it into their database, which will cast a wider net than our can. Looks like he was hoping to set up shop here. Perfect market for it."

Andy sunk back against his chair and swiped his palm across his face. He thought he'd left this mess in the city.

"There's more," said Goddard.

They left the Sheriff's Department soon after, armed with at least as many questions as answers. Calls had been made, alerting the Lewises to the continued threat. Security teams had been dispatched for their protection. They had contacted Pelican Bay and Gary Lewis would be placed in solitary for the time being, thereby bringing his communication with his man on the outside to an end.

The one person they did not address during their visit was Jackson Raydor. If he had information to offer, he'd have to tell someone who was willing to listen.

Leaving the Sheriff's office, they went directly to the medical center, where Sharon had an appointment scheduled for an MRI and ultrasound of her shoulder. They were pleased to find them waiting for her, thanks to a call from the sheriff.

Another hour later found them at Hope House, where another discussion needed to be had.

"He says there's someone else out there, headed this way. Jack had a deadline. He didn't meet it. We need to get your mom and sister out of here before he finds them."

One Sharon looked at another. They sat at the kitchen counter at Hope House, Andy pouring a round of iced tea. Rusty stood nearby, taking it all in, while the children were well cared for out back. Sharon Rose and Sara sat on the floor in the corner, at a small table of their own, sippy cups in hand, their Grandpa Art kneeling beside him. His visit was drawing to a close and he was soaking up every minute he had remaining.

Sharon's head dropped, eyes searching for something she couldn't name. She'd come to the one place she never thought anyone would look, and had put them all in danger anyway "Okay."

She looked up at them. "Thank you all, so much, for taking us in, no questions asked. After everything I've put you guys through, I"

"No," said Andy. "None of that. You're Rusty's family, so none of that. You are welcome. Right now, though, we need to think of someplace safe for you and Mandy. Unfortunately, right now, that's not here."

"They can come home with me."

The lot of them turned to find Art watching them, little Sara in his lap.

"I have the time. I have the room and I have the attention. I'm on sabbatical, so I can go where I need to go."

"Art, you understand whoever this guy is, he's obviously working for someone with a lot more smarts than Gary. He's not that bright," said Andy. "It's likely he's also operating out of Pelican Bay."

"Which is right in my back yard. Why would they think to look right there in Crescent City if they think she's all the way out here? We can set up some sort of encrypted system so that she can stay in touch without being traced. I am that bright," he winked. "The guy is already headed this way. With any luck, this won't last long. Honestly, you people aren't exactly living the quiet life of retirement out here."

He looked at the group, still staring at him, wide-eyed.

"What do you say?" he asked them. "My bags are packed."

Epilogue

She had graduated to a fully immobilizing sling which wrapped all the way around her torso, thereby limiting her movement, whether it hurt or not. Her scans showed no bleeding or tearing, but a marked increase in edema to the tissues as well as slack in a few of her sutures. For now, they were opting to leave it be, but it was crucial that she let it rest.

It had been ten days since Sharon Beck and Mandy had left with Art Robbins. Rather than take them directly to his home in Crescent City, they first made a trip to a family cabin in Klamath Falls. Mandy had taken to the outdoors and his property had riches to offer in abundance.

Jack's unseen, unknown partner in crime proved no brighter than he when he arrived in town high on his own product and crashed his car, right into the Sheriff's department.

Everyone was able to breath a great sigh to know Rusty's family was no longer in danger. Gary was transferred to a different unit, shaking up his carefully constructed web of contacts and Jack Raydor was going back to prison for various charges ranging from drug possession with intent to sell, to brandishing a weapon, to assault with a deadly weapon, to attempted kidnapping. The list was as long as his own arm.

The cabin was once again quiet, the children and grandchildren returned to their own homes. Rusty and Drew may be just down the road but were busy men with growing families. The lieutenant and his wife enjoyed many an evening on their private patio. Then, there was Maggie. Older than ever, but still plugging along, insisting on doing her part and in her own way, taking care of them all. They often worried that she did too much. Little did they know, it kept her young.

"Here's your pill," came the voice over her shoulder, followed by the capsule itself.

"Makes me sleepy," she whined. "I fell like I miss everything."

Andy rounded the couch, pulled up the large ottoman and lifted her legs to rest there, then sat beside her. Grabbing the blanket from behind them, he covered them both, raised his own legs to join hers, then carefully pulled her towards him so that she reclined against him.

"What do you think you're going to miss, sweetheart? I'm planning on napping right here for the next couple of hours. Doesn't that sound nice? You aren't missing that at all."

She swallowed her pill and snuggled down close to him, drawing the blanket up around them. Yes, that did sound pretty wonderful.

To help her on her way, he raked his fingers through her hair and told her of the latest news from the grandkids. Sam was continuing with his archery lessons, as well as dance. Seth was back at scout meetings, the girls just being all around precious…..

Yes, she thought as she drifted away enveloped in her favorite place on earth, it is wonderful.