"Do you really think he’s well enough to come with us?" Amanda spoke with her back to Claire as she reached into a kitchen drawer and sifted through the neat compartments that held knives, spoons, and forks. She pulled out four of each and a smaller, soft-edged spoon that had an easy-grip handle for Missy.

"I dunno." Claire shrugged and began rooting through the cabinets. "He seems to be feeling better. He showed up at work today raring to go, as always. Besides, we don't leave for another few days." She paused, as if truly considering her next words. "That should be enough time for him to get back on his feet." Why don't the delivery people bring napkins with your order? "At least we won't have to go on one of Mark's cross country skiing marathons." Friggin' Scandinavians! "Doctor Musa told him no heavy-duty exercise for a couple of weeks." Losing all patience, Claire began pulling out every single can and laying them on the countertop.

Amanda turned around to the sound of metal hitting metal. Green eyes widened at the sight of the messy, growing can pyramid forming on the countertop. Pale brows knit in confusion. "What are you doing?"

Claire blew out an exasperated breath. "Did you buy any napkins?"

Ah... ha. "No."

"But..."

The psychologist arched a challenging eyebrow. "You and Missy went to the store yesterday while I stayed home and did the laundry. Did you buy any napkins?"

Oh yeah... Shit. Claire scowled, and Amanda chuckled triumphantly, debating whether or not to rub it in.

'Bout time it wasn't me. When I forgot your damn Pop Tarts I heard about it for a week! Amanda gloated silently, allowing her smirk to speak for itself.

A sheepish smile tugged at Claire's lips. "I'll pick them up tomorrow," she offered apologetically.

Amanda sighed dramatically, as though it would be such a hardship to wait until then. With a twinkle in her eye, the blonde sashayed over to her mate. Stepping close, she laid her palms flat on Claire's chest, enjoying the feeling of soft, warm cotton under her fingertips.

"I suppose I'll forgive you... this once," she added for good measure, raising a saucy eyebrow.

Claire narrowed her eyes at her partner. "You are such a brat."

"Am not," Amanda protested weakly, knowing it to be true, but enjoying herself nonetheless.

"Are too."

"Am..."

RING... RING...

Saved by the bell. Amanda pushed off the tall smiling body, and made her way to the swinging kitchen door just as Missy came barreling in from the den. The toddler was wearing pair of bright green overalls that matched her eyes.

The little girl came to a screeching halt in front of her mother, her own momentum nearly propelling her past her target. "Can I have a dwink peease?" she panted.

Amanda smiled and nodded, pointing a finger toward the refrigerator as she left the room.

RING... RING...

Claire bent down to Missy's level and opened the fridge. Two heads, one dark and one fair peered inside. Both, simultaneously, hummed indecisively. "Hmmmmmmm???"

"Wadda you think, Kiddo? Milk or juice?"

"Pepsi."

"SSSHHHHHH!" Claire immediately clamped her hand over Missy's mouth. "Do you want your Mama to kill me?" she whispered. Claire looked toward the wooden doors, which were still slightly swinging, to see if Amanda had heard. She was nowhere in sight. A warm wet sensation drew her attention back to Missy. "Hey… Yuck!" The lawyer wiped a healthy dose of toddler slobber off her hand. The child did not appreciate being silenced. Just like her mother, Claire mused.

"You know you're not supposed to have soda," she said for the benefit of prying ears as she reached for the 2-liter bottle. "It's not good for you." Claire rolled her eyes and ducked into the refrigerator. She gave the bottle a firm twist and it dutifully hissed. Feeling a little like the Pink Panther, she hid behind the large steel door, blue eyes peeking around the shiny barrier every so often to make certain the coast was clear. It was.

Claire quickly moved to the cabinet and retrieved a small yellow sipper cup. "Okay, just a little," the attorney said in a hushed voice. Louder she said, "Enjoy your juice."

Amanda searched wildly for the phone. Where is it? Why is the phone always off its cradle? The ringing sound was fairly strong so Amanda quickly disregarded the thought of digging in the couch cushions. Coffee table? No. End table? No.

RING...

Recliner? Yes! Amanda grabbed the phone so fast she bobbled it in her hands before holding it securely enough to press the 'on' button. "Hello."

There was a long silence. "Hello," Amanda repeated.

"Oh, excuse me, I’m afraid I may have dialed the wrong number." The low female voice sounded faintly confused and oddly familiar. "Is this the Easton residence?"

"Yes." Amanda’s curiosity was piqued. "Would you like to speak with Claire?"

Obviously. "Please."

Amanda couldn’t resist. "May I asked who's calling?"

"Oh… I’m sorry, of course. I’m Claire’s mother, Anne Easton."

Silence... Amanda stared dumbly at the phone. Wow. No one from Claire’s family has ever called.

The silence was broken by Missy’s happy laughter as she bolted out of the kitchen, toward the den and her video, sipper cup in hand.

Anne listened carefully to the sounds in the background. A child? I know I haven’t talked to Claire in a while but I think even ‘Miss tight lips’ would have bothered to mention a child. "Dear, are you still there?"

"Yes… um… I’m… I mean… I’ll get Claire."

"May I ask to whom I’m speaking," the voice requested in a firm but polite tone.

"This is Amanda. I’ll go get Claire. Just a moment please," she answered quickly, biting her tongue to keep from tacking "Ma’am" onto the end of her sentence.

Amanda pushed open the wooden swinging door to find Claire sitting on the kitchen countertop, happily munching on a handful of nacho chips. When their eyes met, Amanda was surprised by the immediate guilty smile that twitched at her friend’s lips. What'd you do now, you fink?

The blonde pressed the 'mute' button and moved to join Claire, standing between the lawyer's dangling legs. She held up the phone. "It's for you." Claire hastily swallowed the bite she was chewing and reached out. "It's your mother."

Amanda waited for a reaction from her partner. She didn't get one. While the grin did slide from Claire's face, it was replaced by a look of bored indifference. Eyes, eyebrows, facial muscles, none of them betrayed a single emotion.

The taller woman pushed herself off the cabinet, the impact of her feet causing a flat thudding sound on the tile floor. Amanda handed the lawyer the phone and turned to leave, intent on allowing Claire some private time to speak with her mother. She had barely moved an inch when Claire surprised her once again, by wrapped an arm around the smaller woman's waist and pulling her close, preventing her from leaving. Amanda raised a questioning eyebrow and pointed to her feet, silently asking if she should stay.

Please stay. Claire smiled beseeching as she nodded and pressed 'mute'.

Amanda sank into the embrace. Like I'd ever be able to resist that face. Like I'd want to.

"Hi, Mom."

"Hello, Claire. I'm glad I caught you at home. It's been a while since you've called. I was starting to wonder if you'd lost our telephone number."

Amanda winced. Ouch! Sarcasm. Claire leaned back against the cabinet, her head resting snugly atop Amanda's. Both Judge Easton and her daughter had clear commanding voices, allowing Amanda to hear every word of both sides of the conversation from her current position. You're gonna get it now, Gumby.

Claire sighed. "I'm sorry, Mom. You're right, I know it's been a long time. But the phone lines do run both ways."

There was a slight pause and then the echo of Claire's sigh. "I know, they do, dear. Your father and I just assumed you were busy with your new position."

A dark eyebrow arched to its highest position as Claire shook with Amanda's silent giggles. Heh. That's closer to correct than you realize, Mom. But what's more likely is that one morning you looked at the calendar and realized you hadn't spoken to your daughter, who lives all of fifteen miles away, in the past six months. "I have been working very hard lately." Claire rolled her eyes when Amanda nodded in confirmation.

"Your father was surprised when we didn't see you at some of the more important social events this season."

That's because I've got better things to do with my time than schmooze, network, and generally kiss ass. Claire tilted her head down and kissed the soft hair of one of the 'better things'. "I just didn't feel the need..." She paused. Why not just tell her the truth? "...Nor did I have the slightest desire to attend." Claire almost thought she heard a faint chuckling sound on the other end of the phone.

"That's fine, dear. It's not as though the County Attorney's Office runs on referrals now, is it? I'm certain that if the public knew the repulsive amount of brown-nosing required at those events, they would find the customary thirty-three percent attorney contingency fee quite reasonable."

Did my mother actually try to make a joke?

Amanda pulled away from Claire with a surprised but delighted look on her face. "Did she just say brown-nosing?" she mouthed silently. I don't even think my mom would know what that is, she thought as she snuggled back into the tall, warm body.

Claire nodded and couldn't help the small grin that threatened to break out. She knew her mother had a razor sharp wit and wry sense of humor. Unfortunately, years would literally pass between the instances when Anne Easton would share that part of herself with her daughter.

"You're right about that, Mom, " Claire laughed lightly.

Then an awkward silence crackled across the phone lines, both women wanting the other to begin a normal conversation. Amanda could feel the tension beginning to build in her partner. It was, however, Claire's mother who capitulated first.

Okay, Annie. Buck up. This is why you called, after all. "I've been thinking about you lately, wondering what's happening with you, what's going on in your life."

Claire's jaw dropped to her chest. Amanda smiled and used her index finger to shut her partner's mouth with an audible 'click'. "You... You have?" the brunette sputtered.

At that moment Missy reappeared in the kitchen with her empty cup. She marched across the room and stood in front of her mother and Claire. "Can I have some more Pepsi, Cwaire? Peeeassssee," the toddler begged.

Green eyes turned to Claire and narrowed dangerously. She let her partner stew for all 3 seconds before relenting with a smile and placing a soft kiss on her lips. Then she looked down at the pathetic begging child. Amanda's hands went to rest on her hips. "No more pop for you. That only works with Claire." She waggled her finger. "How about some juice instead?" Missy nodded happily and grasped onto her mother's hand, pulling her toward the refrigerator. "In order for that 'look' to be successful it's very important not to overuse it..." Amanda whispered instructively.

Claire gazed at the two blondes affectionately, jumping when the voice in her ear began talking again.

"That sounded like a child's voice."

No use in beating around the bush now. "That's because it is a child's voice. Her name is Missy."

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize you had guests visiting. I can call back another time."

"Missy isn't a guest. This is her home, along with her mother's," Claire answered smoothly. Although she hadn't directly addressed the issue of her preferences with her parents, she never did anything to hide it either. If her parents were aware of her lifestyle or with whom she choose to spend her free time, they didn't acknowledge it.

Amanda finished tightening the cap on Missy's cup and gave her lover a ghost of a wink.

"I see. And was that Missy's mother who answered the phone?" So the Gustafsons were right. Mark's mother is such a gossip.

Claire's eyebrows disappeared behind dark bangs. "Yes, that was Amanda." I just told her they're living here and she's not even surprised?

"Well, I guess I'll need to amend my invitation to include them as well then."

Oh God, please don't let it be to some horrible society function! "Invitation?" Claire tried to keep her voice polite and hopeful, but the laughing in her ear told her she had failed miserably.

"Relax, dear. It's nothing that will require your 'game face'. I was simply hoping we could get together for lunch."

"Why?" Claire asked flatly. She knew it was blunt to the point of being rude, but Claire hated playing games. She always had. "I can't even remember the last time we did that," she lied. She remembered their last lunch together in vivid detail.

Her mother had taken her out to celebrate passing the Bar exam. It had been just the two of them at a small outdoor cafe overlooking the Mississippi River. If Claire closed her eyes she could still smell the fragrant summer breeze, the cool dark water, and see the honest look of pride shining in her mother's eyes. That afternoon, they had laughed and talked in a way they never had before. Although well into her twenties at the time, Claire marked it as the only occasion she had ever had her mother's undivided attention. It was a sweet memory, in an almost nonexistent relationship. But that was almost six years ago, and since then, their relationship had consisted of little more than a kiss on the cheek at formal parties and the occasional quick phone call.

Amanda shooed Missy out of the kitchen with a kiss and stepped back into the attorney's warm embrace, frowning at the melancholy look that stole across the lawyer's face. Small hands softly stroked Claire's back, and she felt her partner's tension ease almost immediately.

Anne shifted uncomfortably hoping this conversation wouldn't turn into an argument. "Blunt as always, Claire..." she said curtly. But then her commanding tone relaxed, and the older Easton allowed her voice to soften and take on added warmth. "Lucky for you, I find that obnoxious characteristic one of your more endearing qualities."

Claire snorted at the surprising jibe and immediately slapped her hand over her offending mouth. Amanda wasn't so fortunate. Her laugh escaped full force, spraying Claire's neck with saliva.

Eeww. Gross. Green eyes looked up sheepishly and Amanda mouthed a silent "I'm sorry" as she wrinkled her nose in disgust. Claire gave a good-natured shrug and wiped her neck.

"Unless you've developed another set of lungs, dear, I can only assume that's Amanda's breathing I hear."

Amanda buried her head in Claire's shirt, wishing she could crawl up into a little ball and disappear. Claire gave her blushing lover a hard smack on the rump causing a tiny 'yelp' to escape against the fabric of her shirt. "Yep, that's Amanda. It seems she has trouble keeping quiet sometimes." Claire wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

"Claire!" Amanda whispered fiercely.

"Well, put this Amanda person on the phone so I can speak with her myself."

The pale head against Claire's chest began vigorously shaking 'no.' Claire smirked. "Suuure," she drawled. "Here she is." The lawyer extended the phone to Amanda who narrowed her eyes and stuck out her tongue, but took the phone.

Amanda straightened her posture and got serious. "Hello, Mrs. Easton. This is Amanda. You wanted to speak with me?"

"It seems I've already been speaking to you."

Amanda's eyes widened. She said Claire was blunt? "I... um... I..."

"I'm glad. I'd like to meet Claire's housemates. At least now I can be sure that you received your invitation to join me for lunch next week. Feel free to bring along your daughter and if you could possibly drag my daughter with you, I'd greatly appreciate it."

Amanda smiled and grabbed the bull by the horns. At least one of us should be on speaking terms with her mother. "That sounds great. We could... Oops. I'm sorry, actually we'll be out of town next week. How about the following Sunday? You could come over here around noon. Missy's a little young for the restaurant scene."

Good. "I'll be there."

"Okay... we'll see you then," Amanda finished.

"Goodbye, Claire." The wry note in Judge Easton's voice was clear.

It was Claire's turn to blush at being caught eavesdropping. Are all mothers psychic? The attorney cleared her throat nervously. "Goodbye, Mom."

Amanda pressed the 'off' button and twirled the phone in her hands. "You're mom seems really nice. I'm already looking forward to meeting her in person." The psychologist turned and began picking up the silverware she'd selected earlier.

Claire ambled across the kitchen and pulled open a drawer under the microwave stand. She grabbed a thick phone book, opening it to a section that Amanda had ingeniously marked with red tabs. "Italian?" she queried.

Amanda shook her head.

"Mexican?"

The blonde tightly scrunched up her face. "We had that yesterday."

"Chinese?" This one's the winner. The grin that split Amanda's face let Claire know she was right. "Okay, I'll order an assortment."

"Don't forget..."

"I know, extra sauce and fortune cookies."

Amanda cocked her head to the side and regarded her partner. She sighed happily. "I love you."

The older woman walked back over to Amanda and leaned down to rest her forehead against Amanda's. "I love you too, Mandy." Tilting her chin forward, she sealed the declaration with a sweet kiss, which Amanda eagerly returned.

When the kiss ended they remained in a casual embrace, each woman's arms wrapped loosely around the other's waist. Amanda blinked twice, trying not to drown in the mirthful blue ocean. "Honey, I didn't even know your mother knew we were a couple."

"She doesn't. Or, at least, I don't think she does."

"What?!!" Amanda's good mood evaporated.

Claire laced her fingers behind Amanda's back. She understood why the younger woman was upset. But her mother's disapproval wouldn't mean the same thing that Amanda's mother's did. Claire had long since outgrown the need, and very nearly the want, of her parents' approval -- not that she didn't appreciate it when she got it. She did. It's just that the nature of their relationship had always been formal and distant, and Claire couldn't picture either of her parents' feelings on the subject making much of a difference in her life, one way or the other.

"She'll love you," Claire reassured. Not that you'll get a whole lot out of it. My mother is many things, but stupid is not one of them. You make me happy like no one ever has or will. And if that isn't good enough... to hell with her."

"But... But..."

"But what, Mandy?" Claire interrupted. "She'll stop talking to me?" The attorney's voice was teasing, and had she been speaking to anyone else they would have completely missed the tinge of bitterness, but mostly sadness, that colored her words.

"But I don't wanna cause of a rift between you and your mother."

"You wouldn't be the cause. Am I the reason you're estranged from your mother?"

"Of course not!" Amanda answered quickly, realizing she'd just made Claire's point for her. "But it hurts... and... I don't want that for you." The anguished words pierced Claire heart like a knife.

"I know you don't, Mandy." She pulled the therapist close and nuzzled soft fair hair. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. Your sorry excuse for a mother better never show her face around here.

Amanda squeezed her eyes tightly shut. I will not cry! This has nothing to do with my mother. We're talking about Claire's mother. But the tears came anyway, and Amanda sank into the strong arms, gladly absorbing all the comfort they offered. "We'll never do that to Missy," she said after a moment.

Claire exhaled loudly blowing strands of red-gold hair away from her mouth. "Never," she swore as the churning in her guts began to fade and Amanda pulled away to wipe her eyes.

The psychologist smiled a crooked smile. "I thought we were talking about your mother. How did things get turned around?"

Before Claire could answer, Missy reappeared in the kitchen, buck-naked, swinging her empty cup around. I hope that at least some of that juice made it into Missy. "Are you ready to see Jody and Mark?" she asked the squirming child.

Missy shook her head enthusiastically.

Claire bent down and poked the bare tummy. "Aren't you gonna wear clothes?"

Missy shook her head again, enjoying Claire's questioning.

"Okay, fine with me," Claire shrugged.

Amanda pinched her partner. "Well, it's not fine with me. Let's go upstairs and find you something to wear. Would you like to wear a pretty dress?"

"No. Tights SUCK," the toddler declared stubbornly.

Both women's eyes widened and Amanda went into full mom mode.

"Missy! 'SUCK' is not a nice word for little girls to say!"

Claire cringed at Amanda's tone, wondering how long she had until the scolding turned to her.

"Claire," the blonde growled.

Not long. The attorney snatched up the child and immediately headed out of the kitchen door. "You just relax, Mandy. I'll get Missy dressed."

"You're still busted, Gumby!" Amanda called after the retreating forms, trying not to laugh until they were both out of sight. Tights do suck!

IMPOSSIBLE! She wouldn't do that! She's not one of them. Cory covered his ears to drown out the blaring voice that was growing louder and louder. STOP!! STOP!! ENOUGH! He fell to his knees weeping piteously. "I WILL!" he finally cried, causing the incessant voice to stop cold.

Thank you, thank you. Cory lay in the middle of his apartment floor, curled in the fetal position, rocking back and forth. His body was slick with sweat and his hands were shaking, although one was still tightly gripping the tire iron he'd used to destroy everything within his reach. Thank you for stopping, thank you. Yes, I will. I will.

The apartment had been demolished. His television was strewn across the carpet in hundreds of jagged pieces. The stuffing had been torn out of the dingy brown couch, which was turned on its side. Not a single picture remained on the wall or book in the small metal bookshelf. His two hundred-gallon fish tank sat hollow and shattered, tiny iridescent rocks covering surfaces all the way across the room. The fish had long since stopped their helpless flopping, and now lay lifeless and stinking.

An enormous bright orange goldfish lay several inches from Cory's face. It's dead glassy eyes drilled into him relentlessly. The voice that had been hounding him and pushing him to the point of desperation was coming from the fish! Wide-eyed and trembling, Cory scrambled to his feet.

"NONONONONNONO! I WILL. I WILL," he cried as snot and saliva ran down his chin. "But I can't think until you stop talking!"

In confusion, he began beating the already dead carcass with his tire iron. With every hit he reaffirmed his devotion to Him and only Him, even as he tried to extinguish His words.

"The major Christian denominations are a perversion of The True Faith. I cannot be deceived," he yelled as the tire iron missed the hapless fish. "I am righteous." This time, he hit the fish square in the belly, staining his pants with fish guts and blood. "I serve You and You alone!" Another hit and another, not stopping until the fish was nothing more than a mushy, smelly stain.

"Even as Sodom and Gomorrah, and the cities about them in like manner, give themselves over to fornication, and going after strange flesh, are set forth for an example, suffering the vengeance of eternal fire." He chanted silently, over and over.

Finally, when he couldn't lift his arm for another strike he dropped the tire iron. His forearms burned and he had to use his free hand to pry the metal from his grip. All of them should die. I know she led you astray, but you're too far gone now. You're not fit for my seed! Bitch! he seethed. Godless Bitch! I loved you. You were meant for me, not some perversion!

Cory’s fury seemed to drain from his mind as he truly considered harming Amanda. I don't want to kill you but He commands it! I must obey!

"But no more mistakes," he muttered. It had taken all of the considerable will power He had bestowed upon him to keep from killing every last one of them at the hospital. He'd gone to comfort Amanda over the death of her boyfriend, only to see her in the arms of a tall brunette woman. Now I see it clearly. They are both deviants, an affront to Him. They must be obliterated along with their progeny.

Ignoring the devastation of his apartment, Cory headed into the kitchen to fix dinner. Some woman should be doing this for me! Maybe Jody Penbrook will do… she has my coloring. I am His Chosen. He has a special mate in mind for me. Amanda must have been a test! I cannot be deceived! Yes, maybe Jody. Cory opened the freezer. I wonder if I have any fish sticks?

"Man, these garlic wings and that fried shrimp…" he pointed to a nearly empty white box, "are awesome," Mark commented around a large bit of food.

Amanda's eyes rolled back in her head with a look that could only be described as orgasmic. "I know, I know," she agreed as she swallowed her last bite and leaned back heavily into the sofa. Their plan to wrangle Mark into cooking had been discarded after his injury and Amanda was inordinately pleased that Mark was enjoying his dinner. She still felt a little guilty over her idea to trick the big man.

Jody and Claire watched in amusement as the blondes consumed easily two to three times what they themselves had just eaten. Jody stood and picked up her plate. "If you two are finished making pigs of yourself..."

"Oink...Oink...Oink," Claire chimed in, causing Amanda and Mark to chuckle.

"...I'll clear away some of this stuff," the older psychologist finished. "Then I'll go upstairs to make sure Missy is covered up; it's a little chilly tonight."

Amanda smiled her thanks.

Claire got up and starting picking up the empty paper containers that littered the coffee table. "I'll help, Jody. I don't think either of these two can move."

Mark patted his full belly and leaned back, with a smile. "Amanda, I see you've finally trained Claire."

"It wasn't easy, Mark," Amanda played along. "I'm afraid I've had to resort to some rather corporal forms of punishment." She flicked her wrist at Claire as though she was cracking a whip.

Mark crossed his beefy arms across his chest and smirked at the other attorney, whose face had turned a lovely shade of crimson and whose eyes were staring daggers at Amanda.

"You two are sick," Jody announced as she gathered up the remaining cartons, and marched into the kitchen with Claire hot on her heels.

As soon as they left the room, Mark and Amanda 'high-fived' each other and propped their feet up on the coffee table.

"Really, Amanda, the place looks great." Mark made a broad sweeping gesture with his good arm. "With you and Missy here I would have thought the place would be twice as difficult to keep clean. What's your secret?"

Amanda looked a little guilty and she scratched her jaw. She looked toward the kitchen and, seeing no sign of Claire, she leaned in toward Mark and lowered her voice. "I hired a cleaning service to come in twice a week."

The tall attorney started scratching his wrist where his cast stopped.

"And she doesn't know about it?"

"Sure she knows. She just doesn't want you guys to know. She thinks it's pretentious."

"Why? God knows she can afford it. Her 'modest' trust and her few years in corporate law made her more money than she'll make in the next fifteen years at the County Attorney's Office."

"It's not just the money. You..."

"No wonder my ears were burning," Claire said as she reemerged from the kitchen with Jody. "Telling tales out of school again, Marko?"

Mark brought his fingers to his lips and made a twisting motion. With a flick of his wrist he threw away the imaginary key.

"Fat chance of that happening," Claire teased as she sat down on the other side of Amanda. Jody took a seat across from her friends on the couch and changed the subject.

"So, are we all set for Monday?"

Amanda nodded. "Yep. Everything is ready at the cabins. You guys are gonna love them. I haven't been up there in years, but I'm sure they'll be just the same."

"Do we need to bring any space heaters. I know it's sometimes hard to keep those places warm this time of year."

Amanda chewed the inside of her lip. She was hoping the subject wouldn't come up until they were on their way. "Well... I don't think we'll need heaters... I mean they both have really nice fireplaces..."

Claire arched an inquiring eyebrow. "And what aren't you telling us?"

"What do you mean?" Amanda tried to play innocent.

"She means you’d better spill your guts, Amanda. You are the worst liar in the history of the world." Jody, Mark and Claire all leaned in toward Amanda. "Well?" Jody insisted.

"It's really nothing. There's plenty of wood already chopped and a nice wood burning stove for our meals."

"Holy shit!" Claire exclaimed. "There's no electricity, is there?"

Uh Oh. Amanda winced. "Not technically."

"What the hell does 'not technically' mean...?"

Amanda sighed and bit the bullet. "It means there's no electricity and that it's heated completely by wood. But there's a working gas generator for a detachable heater in case of emergencies. And our cell phones will work 'cause of the new tower they put up in Twin Harbors," she added quickly.

"Just great."

"Fantastic."

"Swell."

"C'mon guys," the blonde woman encouraged. "It'll be an adventure. We're supposed to be getting away from our everyday stresses."

"I never considered not freezing to death an..." Jody curled her fingers in the shape of quotation marks, "added stress".

Claire affectionately rubbed Amanda's knee. "I suppose I'll be able to stay warm enough." She smiled at grateful green eyes. "If not, we can always drive into town and stay at a lodge or something, right?"

"Absolutely!" Thanks, Claire. Amanda covered Claire's hand with her own.

"We'll be fine, Jody. I've got some extra blankets we can bring," Mark added helpfully.

Jody pointed an impudent finger at Amanda. "You've got some splainin' to do, as to why you decided to keep this little tidbit a secret, but Mark's right. We'll be fine."

"So you guys will pick us up in the Pathfinder at about 6:00 a.m.?" Mark asked Claire, knowing the brunette hated getting up early.

"Yeeesss," she groused. "We'll be there." All the other details had been ironed out over dinner.

"Good." Amanda clapped her hands together. "Now that the planning portion of the evening is over, I've got a game for us to play." Everyone's ears perked up. Amanda just happened to be friends with the three most competitive people on the planet. The last time they had tried to play Trivial Pursuit it had turned into an all out war with large sums of money being wagered, and horrible, humiliating tasks awaiting the losers. Thank goodness I won, she thought smugly.

"What type of game is that?" Mark pointed to the large pink box that Amanda pulled out from under the couch.

"I'm not sure exactly. One of my patients insisted that I try it. She said she and her boyfriend learned fascinating things about each other and it opened up their lines of communication." Amanda examined the box. "It's called 'Secrets Revealed'."

Everyone groaned.

"C'mon guys, it'll be fun." The blonde woman pulled out the directions and began reading.

"Oh no!" Claire moaned. "This is one of those embarrassing sex games! It doesn't even make any sense. If you're really revealing secrets then how can anyone know the right answer?" she whined.

"What's the matter?" Mark taunted. "Still bitter about losing to Amanda in Trivial Pursuit? Afraid she'll make you..."

"I remember what she made me do," she ground out. "But thanks for reminding me. Fine. Let's get on with the game."

"Tsk...Tsk..." Amanda clucked at Claire. "You are such a grouch. It's supposed to be fun." The blonde rolled her eyes and passed out pencils and pads of paper. "No one will force you to answer the questions, 'Miss I'm So Secretive'."

"I am not secretive!"

"You are so," everyone responded in unison.

Claire narrowed her eyes at the lot. "You go first, Jody." The attorney thrust a card at Jody.

Jody scanned the card. Her face turned pink as she cleared her throat and began reading. "What is the most unusual location you've ever had sex?"

"What kind of stupid question is that?" Mark sputtered. "How many places can you have sex? In your ear, your eye?"

Jody looked at Mark as if he was an idiot, but Claire was the one who spoke.

"God, Mark, you are so damn dense! They mean geographical 'locations' not locations on the human body," Claire stated exasperatedly.

"Oh," Mark answered and then began writing furiously.

After a few seconds everyone laid down their pencils.

Jody looked to Amanda. "You answer first, Amanda."

"I put..." Amanda smiled, sure she'd gain a point, "in the cockpit of a moving plane."

Mark and Claire both raised their eyebrows at Jody who turned a brighter shade of red and simply shrugged. "Sorry, Amanda, that was a good guess." Damn, how could I have forgotten about that one? "But that's not the correct answer." Next Jody looked at Claire as she answered.

"On Amanda's desk at the Cornerstone Clinic."

"What?" Amanda shouted. "Jody, you better not have..."

"I never, I swear..." Jody sputtered. Jody shifted to Claire. "Why the hell would you say that?"

"Well, it may not be the most unusual place you've had sex, but it's the most unusual place I've had sex." Claire wriggled her eyebrows suggestively and watched with great amusement as Amanda's cheeks turned flushed scarlet. "Besides, how am I supposed to know where you've had sex? I don't even want to know that!"

Amanda was starting to think this was not such a great idea. "Maybe you were right, Claire. This game is really childish, we could just..."

"No!" everyone shouted in together.

"Tough luck, Amanda," Jody informed. "This was your brilliant idea. It's your turn, Mark."

Mark looked down at his piece of paper and smiled. "Utah," he proudly answered.

The women just stared at him.

"What? She's from Utah! It's a good answer!"

Jody just shook her head and didn't bother saying he was wrong. "The correct answer is... standing up... while in a canoe."

Amanda scrunched up her face. "Is that even possible?" she asked.

Jody smiled and nodded. Amanda and Claire looked at Mark.

"Don't look at me. I can't swim!" the muscular man reminded them.

"For Christ Sakes, Mark. We were in the canoe. Nobody got wet."

Claire opened her mouth to speak but Amanda clamped her hand over it before she could say a word. After a scolding look, Amanda removed her hand. "Spoil-sport." Claire stuck out her lip in a pout that was a fair imitation of Missy's and drew the next the card.

Claire cleared her voice and read from the card. "What is the single weirdest thing you have ever seen?" This is an easy one, Claire figured as everyone dropped their pencils in record time. She turned to Amanda. "Okay, what did you put."

"A mummified cat," she said as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

"Me too!" Mark exclaimed, giving Amanda another high-five. They both knew they were correct even before Claire could confirm it.

"Right." Claire put down her card.

"How'd you guys know that?" Jody complained.

"She saw them at the British Museum when she was a child," Amanda answered.

"They gave her nightmares for weeks," Mark added absently as he took a sip of his luke-warm beer. "What did you guess?"

Jody grinned evilly. "Amanda's hair in the morning."

Mark sprayed a fine mist of his beer as he burst out laughing. Claire tried to keep her chuckles silent, but to no avail. Soon, everyone but Amanda was laughing hysterically.

"It's not that funny," the blonde grumbled, her hand unconsciously rising and smoothing out shaggy red-gold locks.

"Of course it's not, sweetheart," Claire placated with a smirk.

Amanda would have none it as she cocked her head and stuck her tongue out at her mate.

It was Mark's turn next. He silently read his card and then placed it back on the deck. "I'll pass."

"You can't pass, Marko," Claire objected. "We're the ones who get the points if we answer the question correctly."

"I'd really rather..."

"Just read the question!"

Mark gritted his teeth. "Fine. What is the name of person you lost your virginity to?" The big man set the card down and tried not to glance at Claire, whose faced had paled.

Claire licked her lips nervously, fiercely wishing she hadn’t objected to Mark passing on the question. It’s okay. We’ll just play it cool. No one will notice.

Jody looked from Mark to Claire and then back again. As realization dawned, she leapt to her feet. "OH...MY...GOD!" she yelled, her face turning an angry shade of purple. Mark was looking down at his shoes and neither he nor Claire would meet her eyes. "It was her, wasn't it?" Jody pointed an accusing finger at Claire.

"What?" Amanda jumped to her feet as well. Green eyes blazed as they focused solely on Claire. "You told me it was a boy you knew in High School!" she reminded angrily.

Claire opened her mouth and then closed it. Her jaw clenched and unclenched as her mind furiously raced for something… anything she could say that would fix this. Damn. She hadn’t outright lied to Amanda but she had knowingly been vague enough to give her partner the wrong idea. That’s just as bad as lying. I need to fix this, and fast. She opened her mouth again. "Mandy…"

"Shut up!" Jody spat. "I wanna hear this from Mark. True or false, Mark. Am I the only person in this room that hasn’t slept with Claire?" she asked acidly.

Mark stuffed his good hand into the pocket of his Dockers. "Come on, Jody. What does it matter? It was a really long time ago."

"Answer the question." Jody was teetering on the edge of a full-blown tantrum.

All eyes were on Mark. Damn, stupid, rotten, damn game! "Jody…" he appealed but stopped when he could see there was no point. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Rising to his feet, he looked down at Jody. "Yes. You are the only person in this room who hasn’t slept with Claire."

SMACK!! Jody slapped Mark with such vicious force that he nearly tumbled back onto the sofa. He immediately brought his hand up to his stinging cheek. God, she’s strong!

"Are you crazy, Jody? He’s only just out of the hospital with a head injury!" Amanda scolded as she moved between Jody and Mark, hoping to stop this from escalating further.

With an angry growl, Jody threw her hands in the air and stalked out of the room. Her muttered curse words were the only sounds in the otherwise silent room.

Mark watched her leave and turned helpless hazel eyes on Amanda. "Should I go in there and…?"

For a second she thought about not answering. It would serve you right, too, if I let you sit here and stew for a while. But as usual, Amanda’s more empathic side shone through and she answered despite her own resentment. "I wouldn’t, if I were you." Listen to this advice Mark. "I’ll go talk to her."

Turning toward Claire, who had been uncharacteristically quiet during the entire exchange, Amanda let her face express the mixture of anger and profound hurt she was feeling. Claire visibly shrank back from the look. "We’ll talk later," she quietly supplied, before leaving to find Jody.

Claire simply nodded, glad Amanda hadn’t said something that required a verbal answer. She didn’t think she could speak past the lump in her throat. How am I gonna fix this one?

Mark took the last swallow of his beer. "I’m leaving." His voice was flat and harsh.

"Jody didn’t take that very well, did she?"

Mark poked his tongue against the inside of his lip, tasting the faint coppery tang of blood. He smiled ruefully, wincing at the sharp stab of pain the movement caused. His head was still ringing. "You could say that."

"Are you okay, Marko? She clocked you pretty good."

"Yeah. I’m fine." The big man found something extremely interesting about his belt buckle. "I should have told her before. It just never seemed like a very good time to bring up the subject."

"You and me both, buddy. I’m so far in the dog house I don’t know when I’ll next see the light of day."

"Nah," Mark reassured. "Amanda loves you. She’s mad, but she’ll forgive you."

"Jody…" Claire stopped there. She wasn’t sure exactly how Jody felt. Most of the time the moody psychologist seemed to adore Mark. But at other times, it looked as though she was pushing him away with both hands. "She… she… really cares about you."

"I guess we’ll see how much. Won’t we?"

"Are you in love with her?"

"Yes." The response came without doubt or hesitation.

"Does she know that?"

His first reaction was to say 'yes', but Mark's first reaction was usually wrong. "I... I guess. I'm not sure."

Claire rubbed her ear speculatively, knowing she was way out of her element. "Then maybe you shouldn’t leave. Amanda and I can go upstairs and you can both stay in here and work things out. If you really love her, Marko, don’t just take off. Stay and try to work things out."

The tall man looked around the room in confusion. He wanted to leave, he wanted to stay, he wanted to tell Jody 'go to hell', and he wanted to profess his undying love, he wanted to shake her and make her listen, and he wanted to kiss her from head to toe. When did everything get so complicated?

Claire studied her dear friend. More than anything Mark looked as if he needed a big hug. He had gambled on not telling Jody about him and Claire, and based on Jody's reaction, he may have just lost. Unable to stand the forlorn look on the muscular attorney's face for another second, Claire stood up and offered him a friendly bear hug. He returned the embrace with a solid one-armed grip.

"Marko, if you really love her, don't let this mess things up for you. Make her understand that what happened with us was the past, and that she's your future," Claire said softly.

Mark swallowed hard. "I'll try." He looked away, embarrassed that his eyes had filled with tears. Sensing his discomfort, Claire had the good manners to bend down and start putting the contents of the game back into its box, keeping her eyes firmly trained on the board and game pieces.

"Good." She slipped the lid on and looked toward the hall where Jody and Amanda had disappeared. Amanda is not going to understand why I didn’t say something sooner.

The handsome man's eyes followed Claire's. "How long do you think they'll be?"

"How mad was Jody?"

Mark plopped down on the sofa with a loud thump. "It's going to be a long night."

A lone figure moved through the quiet, suburban home. A slender hand traced the cool, polished furniture as the hand's owner silently walked in the shadows. Each step she took caused a faint clicking on the solid wood floors. There was no need to turn on a light. Every nook and cranny had long since been committed to memory.

They must be at the faculty Christmas party. She mentally calculated what date it was. Yeah... that has to be it. Her eyes scanned the familiar furniture as she inhaled the clean smell of wood polish and the faint smell of cinnamon.

Still the same, she mused. Immaculate in every way. Monica ambled up the long winding staircase thinking of all the times she and Amanda had raced up these same steps toward their rooms.

Although she was nearly a year older than Amanda, the sisters were either treated like twins, which most people assumed they were because of their strikingly similar features, or Amanda was put in charge. Very early on, the Greers learned which of their daughters was the responsible one. It wasn't Monica.

Her hand felt warm against the cool, dark wood of the ornately carved banister and Monica laughed a little, remembering how she tricked Amanda into believing it was possible to fly if she jumped from the top step and held her breath at the same time. That lesson in physics had cost a four-year-old Amanda six stitches and Monica her freedom for an entire summer. She was always so gullible.

At the top of the stairs, Monica turned right and headed to the small room at the end of the hall. Pausing for only a second outside the entrance, the blonde pushed open the door and stepped back into her childhood.

With a smooth stride, she moved to her old bed and sat down, enjoying the feeling of the familiar soft down comforter beneath her. On the far side of the room, opposite the bed, was a doorway leading to a nearly identical room. It had been Amanda's. For some reason, her parents had chosen to turn Amanda's old bedroom into a guestroom. It was a seemingly normal thing to do... except for the fact that the Greers hadn't had a guest stay overnight in more than twenty years.

Monica stared at the door between the rooms for several long minutes. During all the years of her childhood, the door had remained open. She could still remember the very first time she'd shut it in anger. How ridiculous she had felt. The simple act was intended to give her some peace and privacy from her sister's nagging, but her pride and stubbornness refused to let her open it again.

Monica shook her head. If only I would have known that I would spend nearly fifteen years wishing I could take back that one silly act that had blossomed into something that meant so much more.

Then, as it usually did, the jealously and resentment returned. My perfect sister. Monica rolled her eyes. Nobody's perfect, not even you.

Monica decided that she had closed too many doors over the years and that it was time to reconnect with her sister, at least long enough to get back her daughter. She rose from the bed and reached for the doorknob, surprised to find her hand shaking slightly. Part of her suspected it would be locked... that Amanda had bolted the door closed from her side. That wasn't the case. The door opened easily and the small room suddenly seemed larger and her sister not so impossibly far away.

Tonight, Monica wouldn't be slinking out of the house as she'd done so many times in the past. She'd go down stairs and make a cup of coffee and wait for her parents to come home. And she'd do her best to answer their questions. This time, she was coming home healthy and strong, and drug-free. She'd been to hell and back, but she was determined to get at least a small measure of her life back. No, I don't want my 'old' life back. I want to start a new one. Tonight she'd deal with her parents. But more importantly, very soon, she'd deal with her sister and her daughter.

Time to collect my daughter. And I'll do whatever it takes. I may be clean... but I'm still me. A half-predatory, half-mischievous smile lit up the darkened room. I'm baaaack.

Comments or questions to Advocate advocate8704@yahoo.com
Continued in Part 5.