Johnny and Scott passed each other as Johnny went and Scott approached. Charlie kept her eyes averted but she knew without seeing that the two

of them had more than likely exchanged one of those looks. One of the looks that could pass between them, where neither one of them said a word, but

they seemed to communicate, none the less.

Charlie stayed where she was, sitting on the edge of the swing seat as Scott walked closer.

"It's getting to be time to come inside," he said.

The thought of her bedroom seemed comforting right then. It would be preferable to being around any of the Lancers. Except for Teresa.

Even after talking to Johnny-Charlie still felt as though she wanted to avoid all three Lancer menfolks for as long as possible.

Thus-Charlie stood up from her seat. She had no desire for a talk with Scott right then.

"Alright," she said, in answer, and began walking towards the house. Scott fell into step beside her.

As he held open the back screened door for Charlie, Scott said, "I imagine there's a few cookies left. How about those with a glass of

milk?"

Charlie shook her head. "No, thank you," she said.

At the bottom of the stairs, Scott spoke again, quietly. "Coming into the library?" he asked.

"I'd like to go up to the bedroom," Charlie said. She very deliberately used the words 'the bedroom' instead of 'my bedroom.'

If Scott caught it, he didn't let on. At least, not outwardly. Instead, he gave Charlie a long look, and said, "Alright. Do your handwriting homework

and get ready for bed. I'll be up later."

Charlie wished she could tell him not to come up. Not to come upstairs to read. Or to say goodnight. Or to lecture her further, probably.

She didn't have the nerve, though. It would come out sounding disrespectful, more than likely, and that would just make Scott even more

fed up with her.

She did say this much. "You don't have to," she muttered.

She felt the next look Scott gave. Actually felt it. It was a sharp look. Charlie knew that she'd succeeded in annoying him.

"Go on," he said, calmly, not showing any temper. "I'll be up in a bit."

Charlie turned and trudged up the stairs. She felt weary. It had been a long day. A long, and trying day. A long and trying, and hurtful day. Full of

sadness and misunderstandings, and hurt feelings. At the top of the stairs she looked down, and saw that Scott was still standing there, watching her,

a thoughtful or contemplating expression on his face. Puzzled, as though trying to figure her out.

For a very swift moment, Charlie felt a sense of regret at that expression. A pang of sorrow. She had never liked to see Scott upset, or

worried. She wanted him to be happy. Then she made herself remember earlier, and what had happened between them. That made her

stomach churn all over again. And her heart harden.

Charlie went to her room, and closed the door. After that, she got into her nightgown, earlier than usual. She curled on her window seat, holding back

the curtain with her hand, watching the horses, and Jelly with his pig. Her mind seemed not to want to be quiet. She remembered her

school work. Five times each sentence. There were five sentences. Twenty-five sentences to be done in her very best handwriting. Charlie

thought that she just wouldn't do it, in a moment of rebellion. Then, common sense overrode that. She didn't want to be in trouble at

school. She liked the teacher, and she liked having good marks. It was a fool thing to not do her work, just to show off her spirit. Besides,

Scott would likely want to see the finished work when he did come upstairs. He would want to know why she hadn't done her assigned work.

Self preservation kicked in. Charlie found she didn't want to truly antagonize Scott. He'd already proved that there was a limit to

his tolerance. To his understanding. To his temper.

After that Charlie wrote furiously, trying to be fast, but also do good work. She turned up her lamp, and kept writing.

Charlie was on her last five sentences when there was a light tap on the closed door. Usually she called out to him in a merry way, silly-like,

to come in when he knocked like that.

Now she said nothing, and then there was another light tap. So she said, "Yes."

The door opened to admit Scott. He had a glass of milk in one hand, and a plate with several cookies on it in the other hand. A book was tucked under

one arm, against his side. For some reason that she couldn't explain or understand right then, the sight of that-of him bringing milk and cookies to

her before bed, just as was often his habit, made her feel all strange inside. Not bad, really. More...sad. Or a tugging on her heart.

She forced herself to go back to writing the remaining few sentences, not saying anything. Scott was quiet. She heard him set the plate and glass

on the table beside her bed, and then, Charlie heard the bed springs creak a bit, as he sat down on the edge of the bed. He sat quietly, not talking, either,

as Charlie wrote on. Charlie wished that she had more to write-maybe if she had, he would get tired of sitting there, and leave her, and go

back downstairs again. Then he, and Murdoch, and Johnny, too, could talk about her as much as they wanted. They could be sympathetic to each other about

what a trial Charlie was to them all. To the family. At the thought of that-all of them talking about her in such a way, about all her behaviors, and how much

time she took up-it made her stomach ache.

Charlie sighed, and put down her pencil with reluctance. She was finished with her work. There wasn't any use to pretending otherwise. Besides, she was

tired. She stood up, hesitating a bit. She wished Scott wasn't sitting there, right there, on her bed.

For a moment, she wasn't worried about hurting Scott's feelings. She said, sudden-like, "I'm tired. I want to go to bed."

Scott didn't appear to have hurt feelings at her abrupt statement or manner. He stood up, and said, "Alright," and pulled the

light blue quilt on her bed back so Charlie could crawl in.

Charlie hesitated, the look on his face giving her pause. Scott looked-well, he looked so as usual that she was caught off her guard. He looked

kind and there was even a small smile around his eyes. Charlie often thought that about him. Sometimes, even if Scott wasn't actually smiling,

there would be what seemed to be a smile around the corner of his eyes.

Charlie felt her throat tighten, and brushed past him in a hurry, scrambling up onto her bed, and under the quilt. Instead of sitting up, like

she usually did when they were preparing to read together, Charlie laid down, and pulled the quilt up over herself.

"Feel like some of the cookies and milk now?" Scott asked.

Charlie shook her head, resolved to stay silent.

"How about if I read to you for awhile?" Scott asked, then, holding the book in his hand.

Again, Charlie shook her head. "I just want to sleep."

There had been, in all her time at Lancer, only a scant few times when she and Scott had not read together at bedtime. Once, when Scott had

been away overnight-

Scott sat down on the edge of the bed again, and gave her his full-on attention. Charlie felt like shrinking under that gaze. He didn't look angry.

Just intent.

"Charlie," Scott began, and then he stopped, not saying anything more for a few moments. Then, he went on. "I know that you're upset

with me. Upset about being punished. I wouldn't expect you to be happy about it. But, I want you to understand-"

Interrupting his quiet talking, Charlie said, "I understand," in a short tone.

Scott paused, and for a moment Charlie thought he might scold her for interrupting.

To forestall that, Charlie found herself saying more than she'd planned. "I do understand," she said. "I did a bad thing. I made you angry."

Scott shook his head at her words. "It's not about me being angry, Charlie."

"You were angry, though," she said.

"Yes. I was," Scott said, with no intent to deny. He leaned forward, and put a hand on either side of Charlie's legs. "I don't think I've been

that frightened -well, for a long time. When I saw all that blood on you- my thoughts just scattered to every possibility."

Despite herself, Charlie felt her resolve to stay hardened beginning to weaken. Scott had been scared. She'd seen the fear on his

face when he'd met up with her in the road.

Charlie bit her lip hard. She didn't want to feel sorry for Scott. She didn't. She wanted to keep feeling the righteous anger she'd felt all

afternoon and evening.

"I'm tired," she said. "Can I go to sleep now?"

Scott wanted to talk some more. Charlie could tell that. But, he gave a small sigh, and then nodded. "Yes. You can. We do need to talk

some more later though, Charlie. Alright?"

Charlie gave a brief bob of her head in reply.

"Alright." Scott tucked the quilt up further around her. "I'll leave the cookies and milk. You might want them later."

Charlie didn't reach up to hug him good night, and Scott didn't attempt to hug her, either. He only patted her leg covered by

the quilt, and got to his feet.

He went to turn down the lamp, and then walked to the door, pausing there, where the light of the hallway made him still visible to

Charlie. "I don't want to be a part of Monte having an injury he'd have to live with the rest of his life. I'm going to

be talking to his father."

"I figured so," Charlie said, nearly in a mutter.

"Good night, kiddo."

Before Charlie could decide whether to say good night in return or not to, Scott was gone, closing the door softly.

L

L

L

L

My brother died three weeks ago. My dad died only a year ago, and I'm now the only remaining member of my immediate family. I found my brother

when I went to see why he wasn't answering his phone, and finding him that way haunts me.

He had only just adopted a little shelter dog named Loretta. So now-Loretta lives with

my husband and I and our dachshund, Elsa. I have struggled with overwhelming grief. Grief is a mystery. Why, and how, and when. All of those

can just come upon me. Someone told me, "Grief is not linear." And, that is what I try to remember. I am hearing Charlie and Harlie and all the rest

encouraging me to return, to write their stories. And, so, I will.