PART THREE

Claire padded into the kitchen in search of her morning coffee. Looking at the clock for the tenth time she decided it was still too early to call Amanda. That’s assuming she’ll even talk to me. Why should I feel guilty? Amanda was right. I don’t owe her an explanation. Because you like her, that’s why. A pesky voice inserted. I know…I know… you don’t need to remind me! Claire sighed, and rubbed tired eyes. The mental picture of Amanda’s pain was disturbing and… something else. Familiar? As she watched the sunrise from her bedroom window, she had thought about everything that had happened. "I hope I can fix this," she spoke to the empty kitchen. But what am I gonna do to kill the next two or three hours?

Opening the cabinet she decided to indulge in her favorite food group, Pop Tarts. Sliding two into the toaster, Claire leaned back against the kitchen cabinets and waited. The cool surface felt nice against warm, bare skin. She hadn’t bothered slipping on a robe before leaving her room. Lucky for me this house is pretty secluded. Mentally shrugging, Claire acknowledged that it wouldn’t matter where she lived. Modesty was not an issue. Snagging the hot pop tarts, she dropped them onto a plate and made her way to the den to watch the early morning news.

Plopping down, she grabbed the remote and began channel surfing. She paused when she saw a live-news crew, ambulance, and police cars, broadcasting from the Mississippi River.

An impossibly blonde newswoman stood at the river’s edge. Her jacket billowed in the strong wind, but her perfect coif held firm. The camera pulled back, revealing a shot of two men in white jackets hefting a heavy black body bag onto a gurney.

"The body, which has been identified as Aaron Levine, was discovered floating in the Mississippi River by an early morning jogger."

"Holy shit!" Claire dropped the still steaming strawberry Pop Tart on a bare thigh. "YOWWW!"

"An independent source confirms that local police suspect drug use may be involved." The newswoman smiled what she hoped was a convincingly sad smile. "Aaron Levine was the only son of industrialist and Martha’s Butter, Vice President, Sal Levine. We’ll keep posted on this late-breaking story. Back to you, Chuck."

The attorney clicked off the television and sat in silence. Oh, Aaron. What did you get yourself into?

*******************************

Claire didn't want to go back to Origami so soon after Aaron's death, however, she realized that she had to strike while the iron was hot. Aaron’s criminal file had a photograph of Aaron with some of his "friends." Maybe she would see some familiar faces.

Last night did not make for fond memories. Swallowing, she fought off a wave of nausea as she remembered the look on Amanda's face as she left. She would call her and try to explain it all. She only hoped that Amanda would believe her.

Just lay off and give her a chance to breathe. Maybe it wasn’t so bad that I couldn’t get a hold of her earlier. I don't want crowd her. I just need to let things settle. I can't let my imagination run away from me. She wasn't trying to avoid me. She just wasn't home. Not everyone sits around waiting for the phone to ring.

Sighing, the lawyer pulled her Explorer into a parking lot next to Origami. She hated this, but if she was going to find anything out, she would have to be here, where the action was. Claire wasn’t dressed to kill tonight. Simply outfitted in one of her business suits, she was hoping to keep a low profile.

I look boring enough tonight, she said to herself, as she checked her lipstick in the rearview mirror before getting out of the car. The warehouse district was quiet tonight. It was still a little too early for the regulars. As she approached Origami, the only sounds she heard were the clicking of her own low-heeled shoes on the pavement. Entering the restaurant, she immediately went upstairs to the bar area.

I’ll just stay here for an hour and see what I get. Then, I can go home and call Amanda and beg her to see me again.

Taking a deep breath she went towards the bar and ordered a scotch and soda before sitting down on the couch. Taking a sip of her scotch, she sat back, unconsciously tugging on her tan raw silk blazer. Now it was more or less a waiting game and Claire hated to wait. After about twenty minutes of watching unfamiliar faces pass by, she began to get restless. Her mind kept wandering.

What the hell am I doing? I'm sitting here looking for people I know nothing about based on a photo and the word of some unlucky kid who was found in the river this morning. Trying to firm up her resolve she added, I know I have to follow this up if I want get anywhere with this whole mess.

Moodily, she stirred her scotch before taking another sip. She was ready to go home and put another wasted evening behind her.

"Claire?"

Recognizing the voice, she looked up into the familiar face with a smile.

"Zane, what's going on?" she said, putting her drink down and standing up to hug the muscular light haired man.

"When was the last time I saw you? The Christmas party last year?" he replied, as he gave his childhood buddy a bear hug.

"I think that's right. Let me look at you. Have you been working out again? I feel more muscles on you!" Claire pulled back and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek.

His hazel eyes twinkled as he smiled. "Ah Claire, you do wonders for my ego, darling. And you look great as usual. What are you drinking? Let me buy you one and let's chat."

"Actually, one is my limit tonight. Let me buy you a drink and we can catch up." She noticed the bags under his red-rimmed eyes. "You look pretty tired, what's up?"

"Not much." He waived away her hands. "Nah, I'm not in the mood for a drink. I just came here to meet some business associates and I'm a bit early. Come on, let's sit down." Zane gestured toward a chair.

"What time are you supposed to meet your associates?" Claire sat down across from her friend and tugged a coaster from the small rack on the table.

"In about 10 minutes or so. But I can talk to them anytime, how often do I get to see you?" Zane asked with a smile.

"You have regular business meetings here? Must be interesting. How's your father?" The attorney leaned back and closed her eyes for a moment. God, this day has been long.

"Dad’s been a bit worn out lately, a little cranky. I've been staying out of his way really. How's my favorite corporate lawyer been?"

"I'm actually on an mandatory vacation. It hasn't been too bad. How about you?"

Zane rubbed his throbbing temples. "I gotta get out of this business, Claire. It's killing me, the hours and the stress."

"So sales is getting to you, huh? It used to be so much fun for you, Zane."

"The hours are killing me and it's not as easy as it used to be. Meetings like this all the time. I'm getting too old for this Claire."

"Nah, you're just tired. Your dad is so proud of you, Buddy. When I see him, he always tells me about some big account you've just landed."

Zane laughed but it came out more like a snort. "The novelty wears off quickly. Nah, I gotta stop, but I'm so used to the income…"

Claire nodded with sympathy. Her old friend seemed to be exhausted. She was feeling pretty worn out herself.

After a few more minutes of chit-chat Claire decided it was time to go home. "I'm gonna leave you to your business buddies, Zane. I'm wiped."

"Okay, Claire. You enjoy your rest and I'll see you soon," Zane offered, as he helped her stand up.

She put her forearms on his shoulders and looked at him directly in the eyes.

"Zane, if this is killing you, you need to get out. If you hate your job, that's no way to live. Give me a call if you want to talk about other careers. How about law school?"

Zane laughed heartily. "If it were only that easy, my friend. I don't think any law school would want the likes of me wandering in their hallowed halls. Besides, listening to you and Dad sometimes, I'd be a fool to get into law."

Claire raised an eyebrow and smiled at him. "You have a point, the law is a bit crazy at times. The line between the so-called good and bad guys is blurred a lot of the time. Not like in sales, right?" she winked and walked away.

As Claire exited Origami she looked up at the sky and saw millions of stars. Closing her eyes, she tried to work up the guts to call Amanda and try to explain this whole mess.

*******************************

"Hi Amanda, it's Claire. I need to talk to you about Aaron and I." The brunette rehearsed as she drove into her garage.

No, that's like admitting that little stooge and I were a couple. Try to sound less guilty, will ya.

Putting down her keys on the kitchen counter, she looked at the phone for a moment before deciding to check her messages. Come on, call, call. I'm too chicken. Shit, no message from Amanda. I knew there wouldn’t be.

Tossing her jacket down on the kitchen table she sat down. I have to make the first move. For once, don't let an opportunity slip away. If she yells at me and hangs up, at least I’ll know that it wasn't me that gave up.

Screwing up her courage she picked up the phone and began to dial. Her pulse increased with every ring…

"Hello."

"Amanda, this is Claire…"

"Hi Claire."

Claire immediately launched into an apology. "Look, I'm really sorry about last night. I can explain it all…"

"Wait."

Uh…oh.

"I admit I was angry last night and kind of hurt, and if you have an explanation, I want to hear it, but I want you to know, you don't owe me anything."

"I do owe you an explanation, Amanda. I like you a lot… and I…I would be very upset if what happened last night kept us from getting to know each other. I mean, I'm not trying to push you or anything."

Amanda was silent for several long seconds. Then Claire heard a long exhale on the other end of the line.

"I like you a lot too, Claire. And I feel the same way about the chance at getting to know you better."

Claire couldn't keep the smile out of her voice. "I'm glad Amanda, I really am." How much do I tell her? All the way? Deciding to throw caution to the wind, Claire settled on a bare bones version of the truth. "Okay, the reason I was at Origami with Aaron was…well…I was doing some research…trying to find out whether there’s some kind of organized drug connection that helped Aaron weasel out of what should have been a guaranteed conviction," she explained.

"Is that the reason you came to the clinic? Claire, Cornerstone has a contract with the court system."

"Yeah, I know. Several other criminal defendants that should be in prison right now, were ordered into counseling, all of whom ended up at your clinic. I have no reason to think any of this involves the clinic other than coincidence." Claire quickly added, not wanting to blunder her reprieve. "I just wanted to check it out."

"I see." Amanda wasn’t sure whether she should be angry at Claire’s implications or impressed by her deductive reasoning. Before she could make up her mind, Claire continued.

"Now that Aaron’s dead. I’m more convinced than ever, that something big is going on."

"Yeah, I heard about his death on the news."

"That was why I was out with him. I was hoping he would let something slip. I may have overdone the seductress thing. But there is no way I would ever have a relationship with him. Please believe me. Do you believe me?"

Amanda took a deep breath. "Claire, I do. And I’m more than a bit concerned about this whole corruption thing. But that doesn’t change the fact that I like you very much and want to see you again."

Claire suddenly felt very shy. "So do we still have a date?"

"Unless your feelings for me have changed."

"They haven’t changed. Are we still on for hockey tomorrow?"

"I expect you to be here, ready to cheer on the Red Wings to another Stanley Cup," Amanda replied, her mood brightening as the conversation shifted to a less sinister area.

At that moment Claire was sure she was the happiest person alive. "Okay, I'll see you then."

"See you soon, Claire."

Hanging up the phone, she let out a whoop. "YES! She still wants to see me, she still likes me…Oh shit, I'd better find out about these Red Hawks…"

*******************************

The phone rang just as Claire got out of the shower. She started to panic. What if its Amanda calling to tell me that she's changed her mind… God, I’ve got to quit doubting myself. I sound pathetic!

Nonetheless, her heart started to pound a little faster as she exited the shower and ran dripping to the phone.

"Hello," she said softly.

"Hey Claire!"

"Mark, ah it's you…"

"What's the matter, you sound scared to answer the phone?"

"Long story, Marko, long story. Suffice to say that I'm glad it's you. What's going on?" Claire began toweling off her wet legs.

"Well, I'm calling to give you fair warning. Since you didn't make it here for dinner, we're bringing dinner to you on Saturday. The kids miss their Aunt Claire."

"That's great Mark, but… well, I have a date on Saturday."

"A date? That's great. Why didn't you say something?"

"Uh, it happened kind of fast… uh, it almost didn't happen."

"So what’s she like?"

"Well, she’s a psychologist and…"

"Is she a redhead and is it short or long?" You've never really been interested in brunettes have you? 

"More blonde really and it’s medium/long."

"And?"

Claire rolled her eyes knowing her friend wanted a detailed physical description. "I’d say she’s about 5’4"."

"Okay, yeah, yeah…I’m starting to get a mental picture…go on. What about her figure?"

"What about it?" Claire shouted exasperated.

"Jesus, Claire, you’re such a girl. How can an old bachelor like me live through you if you’re so tightlipped with details? Is she model skinny, or athletic or…"

"Petite but athletic," Claire answered quickly, wanting to put an end to her friends AT&T voyeurism.

"Nice. Okay, what about her…"

"Mark," Claire growled.

"Okay, Okay," he laughed. "Go ahead and give me the other details."

Claire sighed and lay down on her bed. "I'll cut to the chase, her name is Amanda and she's a psychologist. And she's great. She's gorgeous and has a sweet personality. I don't think I've ever felt this way about anyone, especially so quickly."

Mark laughed again. "She must be something else, I've never heard you be so excited about anyone before? A psychologist?"

"Yep. She's got a daughter too, really cute. We went to lunch and hit it off."

"Where are you going on your second date?"

"I'm going over to her house to watch the hockey playoffs."

"Hockey? Are you serious? "

"Yeah, I know. I was going to call you to ask about it. Does Minnesota have a hockey team? And where are the Red Hawks from?"

Mark laughed. "Oh boy, you have really fallen hard if you want to hear me talk about hockey… "

*******************************

"Missy, hold still while I finish putting your shoe on." Amanda exhaled loudly and projected a small puff of air that sent her bangs into disarray. Finally after several more seconds of struggling she had the shoe adjusted properly and fastened the small Velcro strap.

"I know you don’t like them but you might as well get used to wearing them. You can’t go barefoot your entire life." For a second Amanda spared a wistful thought as to how nice that would really be. "Just wait until you’ve got to wear panty hose, a bra, and heels. You think you’ve got it bad now?" Amanda smiled down at her pouting daughter and almost gave in and removed the offending shoes. Taking a breath she firmed her resolve.

"You look really pretty, you know that," she stated proudly as she began tickling Missy’s belly, eliciting a fit of giggles. "That’s better," Amanda grinned. "Let’s go downstairs. I have a new friend I’d like you to meet. She should be here soon." Amanda stood and extended a hand toward the toddler. Excitedly, Missy latched onto a finger and began to run toward the bedroom door, pulling along her mother along behind her.

"Hold on, Kiddo, I’m coming," Amanda chuckled as she stumbled after the toddler. When they reached the stairs the young doctor bent to pick up the little girl.

"No. Stairs!!" Missy squealed, looking down the stairs.

"Missy," Amanda warned.

"No, no, no, stairs!" Missy repeated, as she let go of Amanda’s hand and reached up, grabbing the bottom edge of the railing.

"You’re too little to go down the stairs by yourself," her mother protested.

Missy looked down the steps again, but didn’t move. Turning moist eyes on Amanda, the little girl begged, "peeeassse."

God, I swear Jody taught her how to do that. "Okay..." Amanda relented reluctantly, "but you have to hold Mama’s hand. Deal?"

"Otay!" Missy practically screamed, her smile returning full force. With one hand on the railing, and the other tightly gripping Amanda’s index finger, she began a torturously slow decent down the stairs.

When two small feet jumped off the last step and wobbly landed on soft carpet, Missy began clapping her hands wildly. "Yaaaaaaaa," she giggled.

Scooping up her daughter, Amanda planted a sloppy kiss on a pink cheek. "That was pretty fun, huh?"

"Phunn" the little blonde repeated.

"I’m so proud of you. You are getting to be such a big girl," Amanda praised, hugging the child tightly. Her tone turned serious, "never alone Missy, you can only go up or down with Mama. Alright?"

"Otay, Mama," the girl replied happily.

"Come on. You can watch a movie while I finish getting ready." Picking up the tiny blonde, Amanda moved to video cabinet and opened the door. "Which one do you want to see?"

Missy immediately reached out and selected a tattered orange box. Hugging the video to her chest the girl exclaimed, "Elmo, Boo, Elmo, Boo."

Rolling her eyes, Amanda smiled indulgently. "Elmo Says Boo, huh? Why am I not surprised?"

Depositing the child on the couch, Amanda started the movie. After a few seconds, Missy became totally absorbed in the film and Amanda slipped away into the kitchen. Rummaging through a drawer she pulled out a handful of well-worn take-out menus. I hope she’s not expecting me to be able to cook. After a moment’s indecision, Amanda simply left the menus on the counter. She can help me decide later.

Earlier that afternoon Mrs. Fisher had phoned and regretfully informed Amanda she wouldn’t be able to baby-sit. Her grandson had the flu and she wanted to offer her daughter some much-needed assistance. Amanda considered calling Jody, who clearly adored the toddler, but felt awkward. After leaving Origami they had argued bitterly. Jody apologized but Amanda knew they were both still a angry and needed some time apart to cool off.

Poking her head out of the kitchen, she saw Missy sitting quietly on the couch, watching Elmo scare Julia Roberts. Heading for her bedroom, her stomach twitched nervously. I hope she likes Missy and that Missy likes her. She didn’t seem to mind the fact that I had a daughter when I told her about Missy. Still, I wasn’t expecting to introduce them to each other today. But, I guess I’d rather find out right up front, if she can’t deal with children. Amanda frowned, hoping that wouldn’t be the case, and began rummaging through her drawers. Smiling impishly, she pulled out two hockey jerseys. After running a quick brush through her hair she made her way back into the den.

Checking on Missy again, the psychologist noticed that green eyes were beginning to droop and glaze. Sitting down next to her daughter, she clicked off the video and pulled Missy into her lap. Pale hair mingled together, making it nearly impossible to tell where Amanda’s ended and Missy’s began. "I think it’s gonna be an early night for you tonight, Kiddo. I knew you shouldn’t have skipped your nap. Do you want to take a rest now?" Amanda inquired gently.

"No, no, no," the sleepy toddler protested as she burrowed deeper into her mother’s arms and closed her eyes.

"That’s what I thought," Amanda whispered, tightening her hug.

DING-DONG…DING-DONG…

A small blonde head snapped to attention and Missy jumped off her mother’s lap in a dead run toward front door, tiredness all but forgotten in the wake of the doorbell.

"Hewwo" a small voice called out.

A smile unconsciously tugged at Claire’s lips. Leaning closer to the door, she cocked her ear and listened. That must be Missy. I guess she will be here tonight. Shifting nervously, Claire was glad she decided to make a small detour before coming to Amanda’s.

"Hewwo," the small voice cried out again.

"Hew…" Claire cleared her throat. "I mean hello, it’s…" Before she could finish the door swung open and two pair of smiling green eyes greeted her.

*******************************

"Boy that was great!" Amanda patted her stomach appreciatively.

Claire sat down her iced tea glass, glancing at her new friend with growing affection. "I’m always in the mood for Mexican food," she assured. "For some reason it seems to survive delivery better than a lot of other food." Claire’s eyes drifted down to Missy, who was happily playing on the floor. She cringed when the toddler pushed on Elmo’s stomach and he began to laugh and vibrate…AGAIN.

Amanda shot Claire a look and raised an eyebrow that said, "You brought it. Live with it." When Missy pushed on Elmo’s tummy for the millionth time, Amanda noticed Claire was staring guiltily at her sneakers. After a few seconds Claire finally looked up at Amanda, whose eyebrow had yet to descend, and both women burst out laughing. After a moment Claire spoke.

"How long do the batteries usually last in those things," she chuckled.

"Too long," Amanda deadpanned. Looking at the clock she realized it was almost 7:30 p.m. The last few hours had practically flown by. To Amanda’s relief and Claire’s surprise, Missy and Claire seemed to hit it off immediately.

Throughout the early evening each woman shared bits of information about themselves, each listening eagerly as the other discussed her interests and career. Claire had been a great sport about playing with Missy, albeit a little awkwardly. And Amanda was especially thrilled that Claire didn’t seem at all miffed when she took time out to read Missy a short story. But "baby time" was coming to a close and Amanda was more than ready to have her guest all to herself.

Standing, Amanda garnered Missy’s attention. "Time for bed, sweetheart," Amanda shook her head, knowing what was coming.

"No, no, no!" the girl protested. But an untimely yawn didn’t help her case.

"Yes," her mother said firmly. "Say goodnight to Claire."

Trying to help, Claire reached down and ruffled the child’s hair. "Goodnight Missy, it was a pleasure to meet you."

"Night. No. No. Dans, dans, peeeeasssse!" the tiny blonde whined beseechingly.

Amanda looked over at the stereo, then back to Claire, finally resting her eyes on her daughter. Come on, Missy! Cut me some slack here. I know we do this every night before bed. But… Biting her lip, she shook her head and laughed. "Okay, Missy. But in your room."

"Otay!" the child squealed, holding her arms out for Amanda lift her up. "Bye bye…Cwwaire."

Sweeping the child up in her arms, Amanda headed for the stairs. Glancing back, she spoke as she climbed, "I should be back down in just a few minutes. Help yourself to another drink."

Claire gave the little girl a playful wave and got a sleepy semi-toothless smile in return. Kids aren’t so bad, she mused. But no more toys that make noise. Grinning to herself, she thought of the drum set she bought Mark’s oldest son last year for Christmas. I wonder how many times Mark cursed me for that one?

Deciding to take Amanda up on her offer, Claire moved into the kitchen and poured herself the last of the tea. Dans? What could that mean? While the lawyer suspected Missy spoke quite well for her age, she still needed Amanda to translate most of what the child said.

While in the kitchen, Claire took a moment to enjoy the clean, but slightly disorganized, surroundings. Photos of Missy and Amanda were posted liberally throughout the room. On the corner of the cabinet sat a small-framed photo of Jody and Amanda in fatigues. She was in the military? Interesting. Actually, she shook her head a little as if to clear it, I’m finding most everything about her interesting.

Maroon and white tiles gave the kitchen a modern but homey appearance. The phone sat on a tall uneven stack of magazines and newspapers. It was clear Amanda was a voracious reader. Glancing over some of the titles Claire wasn’t surprised to find covers ranging from "Psychology Today" to "Parenthood."

As she poked around, Claire found her mind drifting upstairs. She wondered how long it would take to put Missy to bed. She didn’t look like she wanted to go to sleep to me. Kids…Go figure. What I wouldn’t give to be able to sleep in and take naps… and have Amanda hand feed me, she added evilly.

As her mind gleefully occupied itself with its latest lascivious thought, she meandered back toward the living room. Passing by the steps, she faintly heard a base guitar, drums and raspy vocals. Rock and roll? Giving her natural curiosity free reign, she followed the music. At the top of the stairs she could make out John Mellancamp begging to make it "Hurt so Good." He’ll always be John Cougar to me. A few paces more down the second story hallway, and she could hear the rustle of movement from a bedroom. Quietly, she peaked into what she realized was Missy’s bedroom, and instantly figured out exactly what dans meant.

The blinds were pulled partially shut, allowing only the thinnest rays of the golden sunlight to enter the room. In what Claire was sure was the smallest, and cutest lavender nightgown she had ever seen, a laughing Missy was spinning and clapping to the music, stopping every few turns when she got too dizzy to continue. Panting and laughing, she looked worn-out and ecstatic at the same time. Dans means dance. Got it. Smart, Amanda. Is this how you tire her out?

When Claire’s eyes shifted up to Missy’s dancing partner and her body responded without thought or warning. Claire’s felt a surge of attraction wash over her as she watched Amanda gently grind snug fitting, jean-covered, hips to the music. Lifting her arms over head the counselor turned and dipped in perfect time, exposing a lean well-defined belly. Claire unconsciously moistened her lips. Jesus! How can she make something so innocent look so damn sexy?

When Amanda began giggling right along with her daughter, Claire was startled by the manic swing of her emotions. Her eyes misted over at the happy, familial sight. So that’s what love looks like. I’ve always wondered. Two pale heads, gone reddish gold in the twilight, twirled and swayed until the taller of the two noticed Claire in the doorway.

Amanda looked up at Claire, and her face began to color. She paused…but rather than stopping, she simply swallowed her embarrassment, and continued to dance until the music faded away. Seeing a strange look on Claire’s face she wanted to ask what she was thinking. But that would have to wait until later. Drawing a finger to her lips, she motioned for Claire to remain silent. When the child’s movements finally slowed, Amanda sat down in a large oak rocker, and waited until Missy stood panting at her knees.

"Did you have a good dance, sweetheart?"

"Ya, Mama" the little girl breathed as she held her arms out to her mother.

Lifting Missy onto her lap, Amanda snuggled the child into her until the short breaths lengthened, and the fair head began to sag. Seeing the mother and daughter needed a few more moments together, Claire silently slipped down stairs.

Amanda placed the lightly snoring child to bed, laying Elmo beside her. "Goodnight, baby" she whispered.

Well, if that didn’t scare Claire off, nothing will. I take that back. Thank God, she didn’t hear me sing. As she made her way back to her guest, Amanda marveled at how easy Claire was to talk to. It didn’t hurt that she more than did justice to the white jeans and the black denim shirt she wore… but still…there was something more than that. Amanda found herself easing into a friendly camaraderie, that thus far in her life, she found exceedingly rare. She had it with Jody. She knew their friendship would endure, and that they shared a deep sisterly affection. But no matter how close they were, the relationship would always lack the element of ‘romantic love’ that Amanda found herself craving.

Nearing the bottom of the stairs, the counselor stopped and observed Claire unnoticed. Sweeping her eyes up from Nike covered feet, to raven colored hair, Amanda sighed. No, it’s definitely not sisterly feelings I have when I’m with Claire.

"Thanks for being so patient. That took a little longer than I expected."

Claire turned toward the bright voice. "No, problem. She seems like a sweet little girl. She sure has a lot of energy."

"True," Amanda laughed, "but it’s not everyday she has someone new to entertain her. She’s mostly used to me, and Mrs. Fisher and Jody."

At the mention of Jody’s name, Claire’s features darkened.

Whoa, I wonder what caused that look? She must still be angry with Jody over the stunt she pulled outside of Origami. "Claire, Jody didn’t mean anything the other day." Amanda couldn’t help but defend her long time pal. "She was trying to be a friend. Sometimes she just goes too far." Her voice softened, "Don’t stay angry…please."

Claire felt her anger melt away under Amanda’s gentle plea. The lawyer stood silent for several seconds…thinking. When she finally spoke, her demeanor had completely shifted, throwing Amanda slightly off balance.

"She hates me, right?" Her voice was steady but her eyes belied inner distress.

Her feelings are hurt? Wow, that game face must really pay off in the courtroom. Anger seems to be her first reaction. She’s a lot like Jody, volatile, but more bark than bite. Studying the clinched jaw and Claire’s powerful frame, Amanda quickly reassessed her characterization. Okay, I definitely see bite potential here.

Claire quietly sat back in her chair, feeling mildly defeated. Amanda noticed the slight slumping of her shoulders and realized that Claire had taken her silence as an affirmation. Snap out of it, Mandy.

"No, no," she reassured. "She doesn’t hate you," at least I don’t think she does. "She just…well…um…"

"She just thought I was a jerk who was dating her much younger, drug abusing client, while trying to make time with you on the side," Claire stated flatly.

Amanda winced at the blunt but accurate assessment. Not knowing what to say she settled on an equally blunt and simple truth. "That is what she thought," Amanda saw Claire try to hide a flinch but she continued. "I love Jody and what she thinks is important to me." Green eyes snagged and held blue. "But you explained the situation to me. And I choose to believe you. I can’t control what Jody thinks." Her voice took on a slightly resentful quality. "She doesn’t decide who I see and who I don’t. I make my own decisions."

Claire couldn’t help but be impressed by the determined nature of the smaller woman. She found herself admiring more and more things about this enigmatic young psychologist. But she also recognized the quick temper hiding behind kind, youthful features. Boy, am I glad she’s not upset with me. Somehow I think Jody got an earful this week.

Ready for a change to more pleasant subjects, Amanda marched over to a small table and retrieved two well-worn jerseys. Green eyes twinkled. "The game will be on a few minutes which do you want, the white or the red?"

We’re dressing up? "Um…you can pick. But I don’t think you’re clothes will fit me."

Amanda held up the oversized shirts. "I’m not worried. I’ll choose." Amanda took the opportunity to critically study the taller woman, holding up each jersey to Claire, and gauging its probable appeal. With a smile, she remembered Claire in a form fitting red dress. "Here, I think this one would look the better on you. Besides," she added mischievously, "red clashes with my hair."

Handing Claire the jersey, Amanda added, "I hope you’re a Red Wing fan."

"You bet," Claire responded confidently. Not that I know squat about hockey. What was the name of the team Mark told me about? Claire held up the red jersey. What in hell is a Yzerman? Eyeing the heavy cloth, Claire weighed it in her hands. Glancing at the blonde, she raised an eyebrow in question.

Amanda smirked and turned her back to Claire, knowing she’d be broiling if she wore the jersey over her heavy weight denim shirt. I wonder if she’ll have the nerve to take it off right here? Amanda stood, hands on her hips, and waited.

Claire’s other eyebrow shot skyward at Amanda’s implied challenge. She wants me to change here? An internal chuckle. Ah, Amanda, you’re playing this game with the wrong woman.

A few seconds passed with no sound, and Amanda decided to stop teasing her new friend. Dropping her hands from her hips she began to turn.

"I’m not finished yet," a low voice rumbled.

Amanda’s head snapped forward and she began to hear the scraping of denim as Claire began pulling the shirt out of her jeans. Amanda nervously started to clench and unclench her fists. "Uhh…sure…take your time… no rush." Stop babbling, she berated herself. I can’t believe she’s doing that! Amanda suddenly looked to her patio doors, hoping to catch a glimpse of the muscular form in the reflection. Looking at the closed curtains, she let out a small sigh of disappointment. Rolling her eyes, she chastised herself. I’m worse than a sixteen-year old boy. A deep breath. What’s taking her so long, anyway? It’s getting really hot in here. Amanda lifted a slightly shaky hand and wiped her brow. When she heard the muffled popping sounds of Claire’s buttons her heart rate began to speed up. Wow, she suddenly realized, I’ve had full-blown love affairs that don’t hold a candle to the sheer eroticism of her undressing behind me.

Then, for a few seconds the only sound that filled the room was Amanda’s breathing. Finally, Amanda saw Claire’s shirt land lightly on the couch next to her. Looking down at the shirt, she tried pushing the image of Claire standing behind her, in only a bra, out of her mind. She swallowed.

"Okay, all done."

Amanda waited a bit before turning around. She hoped her face wasn’t as flush as it felt. Counting to ten, she turned to see Claire dressed in the red jersey, and holding the other. As the lawyer began walking toward Amanda, a slow sexy grin crossed her face.

Stopping far closer to Amanda than was customary, Claire held up the white jersey. Looking down into Amanda’s eyes she leaned forward until her lips were only inches away from the smaller woman’s face. Hot breath caressed Amanda’s cheek. Lowering her voice, Claire whispered "your turn."

It was all Amanda could do not to moan out loud. Oh… God. Amanda closed eyes, absorbing the deep voice, and not trusting herself to speak. After a few seconds she opened her eyes but couldn’t meet Claire’s. "Thanks…b...but…" A pause and another hard swallow. Grabbing the jersey Amanda practically ran for the bathroom. "I’ll be right back," she croaked.

Claire laughed softly as Amanda bolted out of the room. She’s gonna make a great playmate.

*******************************

"NO. NO. NO!" Amanda jumped up off the couch for the third time in the last five minutes. Her team was not doing well. "Did you see that?" She waggled her finger at the television. "That was ILLEGAL!" Suddenly dejected, she flopped back down onto the sofa next to Claire.

Claire was having a great time. She couldn’t care less about watching the game. But watching Amanda watch the game, was another story. The small psychologist cheered and hissed and cursed the officials with unrestrained passion. I wonder what she’d be like if she were actually at the game? We’d probably be tossed out on our butts, she thought wryly.

After a particularly vicious check, Amanda began to rise again. This time Claire acted.

"Oh no, you don’t." Claire quickly grabbed Amanda’s hand, tugging her back down into cushions. "Stay. You’re making me dizzy." Claire’s grip was firm but her voice was teasing. Surprised, Amanda looked down at their joined hands.

Nodding, she spoke calmly, though the dozing butterflies in her stomach, awakened at Claire’s touch. "Sure, no problem."

When it was clear Amanda wasn’t going anywhere, Claire loosened her grip but didn’t let go. It was a baby step, and she knew it. But the lawyer had wanted to make some sort of physical contact with her companion from the first moment she saw her. After several hours of aborted attempts, she was relieved to have the smaller palm finally resting in hers. What a nice fit, she thought, looking down at their entwined hands. This evening was definitely looking up. The rest of the game was spent in sweet companionship, each woman pleased with the way evening was shaping up.

*******************************

The game had long sense ended and Claire had tried her best to console Amanda, who was sulking over the Red Wings elimination from the playoffs. The blonde had realized early on that the lawyer didn’t know the first thing about hockey. But she was trying so hard, Amanda didn’t have the heart to let her know she’d been found out.

With the television off, only a small brass lamp lit the den. Shadows danced off Amanda’s hands as she gestured. Once again Claire was struck by how much she simply enjoyed being in the smaller woman’s presence. When she was with Amanda, somehow, she felt connected. It was unsettling and invigorating at the same time.

"You’re kidding?" Amanda exclaimed.

"No seriously, that’s what I really believed. At least when I was really little."

"Well, I hope I didn’t kill your fantasy." The blonde groaned with satisfaction as she bit into a thick cluster of chocolate covered nuts. "Mmm. Phis is thsoo guud."

"Somehow, I suspected you might like it," Claire smirked, snagging another piece for herself.

"Hey," Amanda protested as she lightly slapped Claire’s hand away. "I’m not forcing you to eat any, you know."

Popping the confiscated chocolate covered cherry into her mouth, Claire grinned. "Now what kind of date would I be if I sat back and allowed my lovely hostess to eat so much candy that she got a stomach ache?"

"Humph…Good luck. I have no will power when it comes to chocolate."

"You sure don’t look it," Claire replied, gazing appreciatively at the blonde’s lean, compact physique.

"You’ve met my daughter, right?" she teased. "Chasing around after her is just about all the exercise I need. But I like to bike ride when the weather allows and I have a well-worn treadmill in the spare bedroom."

Mirroring Claire’s appreciative look, Amanda eyes traveled down to well-muscled thighs. "Now I know nobody looks like you, without working out."

Claire could feel her skin growing warm at her friend’s compliment. "Umm…Thanks."

Ha! It’s about time the shoe was on the other foot! Amanda gently traced a flushed cheek. "You look pretty in pink," she teased.

Embarrassed, Claire quickly changed the subject. How did our conversation get derailed? And now I’m blushing? Claire cleared her throat. "It wasn’t until I was about eight that I finally figured all moms didn’t know how to cook."

"What clued you in?" Amanda gracefully accepted the shift in conversation back to its previous topic.

"Well, it was my birthday and I was all excited to get my birthday dessert. Every year I would get some great pastry or cake or something like that, and we’d eat it together, in our pajamas in front of the fireplace."

A slight note of sadness tinged Claire’s voice. "My folks worked really long hours and entertained a lot. We didn’t spend a lot of time together so I really looked forward to that special time every year." Remembering this wasn’t supposed to be a serious story, Claire intentionally lightened her voice. "Anyway, I guess I just figured my mom made the desserts. I mean, that’s what moms do, right?"

Amanda nodded, a little concerned with her friend’s tone, but caught up in the story enough to want her to continue.

"I practically ran home from school and hurried through my homework, so I could sit and wait for my folks to come home." Claire shifted slightly, enjoying the warm comforting touch of Amanda’s thigh nestled up against hers. "Right before dinner, Margaret, she was my nanny that year, came into my room and told me that my parents had an unexpected social function they needed to attend that night and that they wished me a happy birthday."

Amanda remained silent but lightly squeezed Claire’s hand in a supportive gesture.

"Then she handed me an address book and a credit card and said that Mrs. Easton had instructed her to give them to me so that I could call Bartholomew’s Bakery and have my birthday dessert delivered, and to remind me how much I liked the cheesecake last year." A pause. "I don’t think my parents ever realized how much thought birthday desserts meant to me. Not the actual dessert…"

"But the time you spent together," Amanda finished.

Claire sighed and returned the light pressure to Amanda’s hand. "Exactly."

What can I say to that? Amanda wondered. "Claire…I’m sorr…" She stopped when she saw Claire smiling, with what could only describe as a deviously evil grin.

"What’s so funny?" That must have felt awful. What could possible be funny about that?

"Margaret told me my mother said that I could get anything I wanted. And I did."

Still not comprehending Amanda waited for an explanation. When she could tell Claire wasn’t going to offer one, she simply asked. "So, what did you get?"

Claire’s grinned broadened. "Oh, I got the cheesecake…and the pecan pie…and the apple strudel…"

Amanda’s eyes widened.

"…and the raison bars…and the white chocolate cookies…and…" Claire continued.

"Oh, no," Amanda laughed, as she finally figured out what the mischievous child had done. "You ordered one of everything?"

Claire nodded, a grin still firmly plastered on her face. "Ooh yeah, the bill came to $442.00."

Amanda put a finger to her temple and spoke out loud, "Mental note to Mandy, never ever, under any circumstances, cross Claire."

The attorney shrugged sheepishly, but didn’t disagree. Realizing what her friend just said, Claire’s natural inquisitiveness returned. "I haven’t heard anyone refer to you as ‘Mandy’ before.’"

Surprised she had used the name out loud, Amanda elaborated. "That’s because no one does. Well…no one but me, I suppose. My family isn’t much for nicknames so I just got used to introducing myself as Amanda. My dad still won’t call Melissa "Missy," although I think he’s the last one."

Claire considered for a moment. "I like ‘Amanda,’ but Mandy is nice too. It suits you."

"Thanks." Amanda could feel herself grinning stupidly. "You can call me either one then."

"Okay, I will."

*******************************

Claire looked at the clock regretfully, mentally cursing Father Time and his relentless pace. We’ve been talking for hours. I can’t believe it. I think I’ve talked, and listened, she admitted to herself, more tonight, than I have in the past six-months combined. Looking back up at the clock again, she stifled a sigh. Time to bite the bullet. Claire couldn’t quite hide her frown as she shifted her position until she was completely facing Amanda.

Sounding very much like she didn’t want to, Claire began saying goodnight. "I guess I should be going, it’s after midnight."

Amanda squeezed the hand that hadn’t left hers for the past several hours. Looking at the clock, she knew her friend was right. Now I know how Cinderella felt… yuck. The psychologist’s mind raced for a legitimate reason to ask Claire to stay longer. Somehow, I don’t think I should come out and say "Gee Claire, I’m having a great time, and you’re so gorgeous you make me forget how to breathe, and I was just wondering if I could have you imbedded in my couch, so I could sit and stare at you and drool." Though for a brief moment, she was sorely tempted. Being polite sucks.

"Thanks for coming, Claire. I had a lot of fun."

Claire shifted a little closer and flashed a dazzling smile. "Me too."

Who needs to breathe? Amanda found herself willingly drowning in deep azure blue. An answering smile played on her own lips, and crinkled the corners of her eyes.

Now it was Claire’s turn to remember to breathe. As their eyes locked, the surroundings faded, and each woman felt herself surrendering to an almost physical pull, a deep craving to connect with the other.

Growing bolder, Claire leaned forward and began to delicately trail her fingers along Amanda’s neck, pausing to feel the pounding pulse beneath her fingertips. Moving her hand upward she cupped a soft cheek.

Amanda’s eyes closed reflexively, an involuntary sigh escaping her lips as Claire’s gentle touch moved from her neck to her cheekbones, sliding across pale eyebrows, and finally tangling in soft hair. She felt her head being slowly guided forward and upward as a warm palm was placed on her other cheek. Hot breath tickled her face as all forward movement suddenly stopped.

A half a second felt like forever, as Amanda leaned forward closing the minute gap between them. Their lips brushed together softly. Then slowly, the contact began to increase.

Amanda felt as though she were on sensory overload. Her hands firmly gripped the silky skin on Claire’s forearms. Her palate delighted in a sweetness that was part Claire and part chocolate. As her body fell further into Claire’s, she inhaled the light scent of roses. It felt more than good. It felt right.

The kiss deepened naturally, Claire didn’t bother to swallow the low moan that echoed from her throat as she drew even closer to the young therapist. It was, Claire decided, perfectly delicious. Intense attraction combined with a blossoming affection and the result…was simply exquisite.

The kiss tapered off as each woman reluctantly withdrew from the other. Amanda opened her eyes first, to see Claire still leaning slightly toward her, eyes closed, with the most curious expression on her face.

Claire slowly opened her eyes and exhaled deeply. The look of startled amazement painted on each woman’s face caused other to smile, then laugh. The easy laughter cut through the haze of sexual tension that permeated the air. Claire and Amanda were both relieved at the drop in intensity. Each needed a moment to process the unexpected emotion that accompanied the kiss.

Claire shifted, her focus naturally drawn to warm green eyes. WOW! What the hell just happened? "M..Ma…" Claire stopped. Gathering her scattered wits, she tried again. "Mandy, that…"

Claire paused as her attention was forced outside. Voices?

BOOM!! The front door swung open violently, crashing loudly against the wall.

"Honey, I’m home!" screeched a slurred voice.

Claire and Amanda flew off the couch, Claire instinctively placing herself between Amanda and the door, as a short, excessively freckled, red-haired man staggered in, and stood laughing hysterically before the women.

"Who in the hell are you?" Amanda yelled, anger already beginning to replace shock.

"J.J., you shithead! What do you think your doing?" called a hollow sounding voice from the doorway.

Claire and Amanda’s attention shifted to a woman who was standing in the shadows just inside Amanda’s doorway.

"Come on Baby," the man whined "You know I always wanted to say that." J.J. started to say something else, but burst out laughing instead.

"Oh right…sorry…I forgot." The woman swayed slightly, leaning against the wall, then joined J.J. in an equally inappropriate fit of hysterical laughter.

"I’m calling the police, these people are crazy." Claire stepped toward the phone.

Amanda continued to stare at the woman, her face paling with each passing second. "Wait," she said, holding up a hand, stopping Claire. Taking several steps forward, she roughly pushed past J.J. Flipping on the light she continued to stare at the woman in silence. Suddenly her eyes welled with tears. Claire watched as tremors racked Amanda’s small frame. It looked like fear or anger or sadness. Claire couldn’t tell which. Alarmed, she rushed to join her friend, stopping slightly behind and to the side of Amanda.

Pointing a finger at Claire, J.J. began to yell again. "Slow down, bitch! This is none of your business," he slurred.

"Shut up you demented little gnome!" Claire hissed, as she reached out and viscously snapped the offending finger.

"FUCK!" J.J. dropped to his knees and began to cry. "Ahhhh…you…bitch! You broke my finger!" J.J.’s words were an eerie mix of pain and amusement and disbelief.

"That’s right asshole! And if you don’t drag your sorry ass outta here I’m gonna break more than…" Claire stopped at the sound of Amanda’s anguished voice.

"Monica?" Her voice cracked. A long moment passed. "God… is that really you?"

The woman looked up and smiled with glassy, dilated eyes. "Long time no see."

"Jesus Christ," Amanda whispered. Stepping closer to filthy emaciated woman, she smelled garbage. Grimacing, she continued. "What have you done to yourself?" Reaching out the therapist gently tugged the wild hair as though she’d never seen it before.

The woman before her was bone thin. She wore ragged blue jeans and a dirty short-sleeved sweatshirt that were ill fitting. Taking in the threadbare clothes, Amanda assumed them to be in too poor a condition to have come from the Salvation Army or a shelter. Haunted hazel eyes were framed with tired, black circles and the short, dirty blonde hair was greasy and uncombed.

"Nice to see you again too," Monica added sarcastically. Closing sunken eyes, she wrapped her arms tightly around her bony frame and began to quake, sliding down the wall that had been supporting her.

Amanda reached for Monica, who flailed out, knocking her hands away. "Don’t touch me, Amanda. I’m fine."

"Fine, huh?" Amanda’s hand shot out, grabbing Monica’s chin. Jerking her head upward, she looked directly into stoned eyes. Monica weakly pulled away causing Amanda to release her grasp. "You’re coming down aren’t you?"

Claire stood awkwardly behind Amanda. It was obvious that the women knew each other. And based on Amanda’s reactions, this was no patient or casual friend. An old girlfriend? Claire kept watching. I don’t think so. She couldn’t help but wince. I hope not. Out of the corner of her eye the attorney kept tabs on a writhing, blubbering, J.J. The other women were all but oblivious to his presence.

"What do you care?" Monica hissed, as she tried to gather enough balance to stand without the assistance of the wall.

"You know I care!" Amanda answered defensively.

J.J. slowly stood and approached Claire with a raised fist. "You’ll be sorry you…"

Patience gone, Claire swiftly kicked J.J.’s feet out from under him. Rolling on his stomach, he immediately started laughing and crying again. Claire shook her head. Stay down idiot. Stupidly, as Claire shifted back toward Amanda, J.J. reached out and grabbed her ankle.

"That’s it. I’ve had enough of you, "Chucky!" Claire brought her foot up with viscous force, slamming it straight down on J.J.’s hand. The man howled and choked, saliva dripped from the corners of his mouth, as his body registered that several more fingers were crushed. "Time to go," Claire muttered, secretly glad the fool had tried put his hands on her, giving her the excuse she needed. Grabbing J.J. by the back of the collar the lawyer literally threw him out the open front door. Monica’s reaction was not what she expected.

"CHUCKY!!" Her bizarre laughter echoed in the otherwise quiet house. "I hope that doesn’t make me Chucky’s bride." Her laughter turned to sobs and then abruptly stopped.

Claire resumed her position near her friend. Amanda felt Claire’s reassuring presence at her side but didn’t acknowledge it. For the moment, all she could do was stare at pathetic spectacle in front of her. She's married to that? Amanda’s eyes drifted to the front lawn where J.J. was sitting clutching his hand. Why didn’t anyone let me know she’d been released, or checked out? "You need help Monica. Why aren’t you in St. Benedicts?"

She snorted. "That was voluntary, Amanda, they couldn’t keep me there. Besides I don’t want that kind of help."

"You need that kind of help."

"Shut the fuck up with that psycho-babble bullshit!" Monica screamed.

Strangely, Monica’s anger was immediately replaced by a different look. Claire felt her hackles rise but fought to remain still. She can see I’m right here if she needs me, she chided. But even as she admonished herself, a protective urge surged from deep within. One look, one word, one gesture towards Amanda, and friend or no, that crazy bitch is gonna end up on her ass in the yard with J.J. The lawyer could feel the adrenaline coursing through her. The need to do something, anything, was overwhelming. Claire never did do "passive" well.

"You could help me if you really wanted to," the dirty blonde pouted self-servingly.

"I won’t give you any money."

Monica looked around desperately.

"If you want, I’ll call and get you a non-refundable room at the Motel 6 on Orchard Street. And this time I’ll tell them to take out the television and clocks." An expensive lesson learned.

"Fuck you, Amanda. I knew you wouldn’t help me. That’s not why I came here anyway." Monica looked up stairs as her body began to tremble again. "Where is she?"

Amanda’s eyes followed Monica’s. "Don’t even think it, Monica," she warned.

"I’ll more than think it. She’s my daughter! I have a right to see her!"

Claire’s eyes widened. Her daughter? She looked at Amanda. What?

Amanda’s temper flared. "You have the right to nothing! You’re high and you’re filthy and you’re not getting anywhere near her!" she growled, blocking Monica’s path to the stairway.

Monica was laughing again, "You don’t understand Amanda, I don’t want to see her I want to take her. J.J’s gonna get a job and we’re all gonna live together and be a family."

"WHAT?" The anger in Amanda’s voice was rich with disbelief. "Are you truly insane? YOU ARE NOT TAKING MY DAUGHTER ANYWHERE!" She boomed.

"Come on Mandy," she sneered. "She already likes me."

"What do mean she likes you? There is no way she could even remember you. It’s been months since she’s seen you." Amanda dismissed the woman’s ramblings.

J.J. finally reappeared in the doorway. Claire’s icy stare stopped him from entering the house but not the conversation. "Now, I know I’m fucked up and all," J.J. conceded," Claire's raised an eyebrow at his sudden flash of self-awareness. "But wasn’t that just last week we took that little piggy to McDonalds? That little thing can sure put away the food." His grating laugh returned, and Claire found herself wanting to break his other hand.

Amanda’s eyes flashed. "What do you mean last week? This is the first time I’ve seen you in months!"

Monica’s head was down and she was snickering like a child who had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar so Amanda shifted her focus to J.J. "Well?" she demanded impatiently.

J.J. looked at Monica who looked back sheepishly. They both burst out laughing.

Thinking back over the week, Amanda closed her eyes in realization, asking the question although she was certain of the answer. "They let you see her didn’t they?" How could they? What if you had just taken off with Missy? Amanda’s thoughts were interrupted by J.J.

"The Greer house is sure nice, huh, baby?" J.J. slurred, wiping the spit from the corners of his mouth with his good hand.

"You betcha," Monica agreed.

"Get out," Amanda demanded flatly. Before the words were even out she felt Claire move closer to her. A strong hand lightly touched the small of her back, encouraging her.

"What?" Monica struggled to bring Amanda back into focus.

"You heard me. I want you out now. And don’t come back like this ever again. There’s no way you’re getting Missy, so do yourself a favor and focus your energy on getting your life together instead of messing with my daughter."

J.J. looked as though he might object until Claire flashed him a bone-chilling smile. Even in his current condition, J.J. shuddered, unconsciously protecting his injured hand. Cautiously, he approached Monica, whose attention was inexplicably focused on one of Amanda’s plants. Grabbing a bony wrist he began pulling his bride out the door. "Come on baby, let’s go."

As she passed through the doorway Monica appeared to spark to life. "I’ll be back…Amanda… you..." Claire slammed the door in the babbling woman’s face.

Amanda was still mutely staring at the closed, damaged door, when Claire gently took her hand and led her to the couch. Amanda looked up the staircase but remained silent for a long while before she spoke.

"I can’t believe Missy didn’t wake up with all that noise." Amanda’s voice trailed off as her breathing hitched and she began to cry.

Claire was at a loss. She didn’t understand what had happened or who Monica was but she could clearly see Amanda’s pain. She simply held her arms out in offering to the smaller woman. Amanda gasped with relief as she lunged forward into Claire’s waiting arms. Gladly accepting all the warmth she found there, Amanda held on for dear life.

Claire murmured nonsense reassurances and stroked the soft blonde hair until finally, Amanda quieted. Reluctantly, Claire pulled back so she could see her friend’s face, which was red, and puffy, and tear stained, and beautiful. It nearly broke Claire’s heart. Grabbing a wad of tissues from a box on the coffee table Claire offered them to the smaller woman, who faintly smiled, then wiped her eyes and blew her nose.

"Mandy, are you okay?" she asked softly.

"No…I…I don’t think so." Looking up into confused blue eyes she continued. "I bet you’re wondering what’s going on just about now?"

Claire nodded.

"It’s a really long, complicated story and I promise to tell you all of it…just not right this second okay?

Claire nodded again.

"But, I guess the whole thing can be boiled down to a few sentences." Amanda stopped and wiped her cheeks again. When she found her voice, she continued. "Monica is Missy’s birth mother. I guess it’s pretty obvious that she’s in no position to raise a child, although, she did straighten out a bit near the end of her pregnancy. I think she finally figured out what all those drugs could do to the baby." Claire passed over several more tissues. "I adopted Missy. I brought her home from the hospital, Claire." Amanda’s eyes started to welling up again. "She’s my daughter in every way, just because I didn’t give birth to her doesn’t mean…"

"Shh… I understand," Claire reassured. "I can see how much you love each other. And that you belong together," she added. Pulling Amanda back into a hug she spoke into her hair. "Don’t worry, I’ll help you."

"She…she couldn’t get her back could she?" Amanda’s voice cracked as she begged for reassurance.

Claire wanted to say "NO" and be done with it. But the lawyer in her refused to allow her to escape with the more comforting half-truth. "If everything was done legally to begin with…then no, it’s not likely." She could feel Amanda’s relieved sigh as the body against hers went limp. Claire closed her eyes. Yes. Thank God, she didn’t get the baby illegally. "I’ll contact a friend of mine at the firm who specializes in adoptions. He'll know what to do." Unsure how Amanda would take this she pressed on. "Amanda maybe we should call the police. Those two might come back and they did break into your house."

"No…Maybe…No…I don’t know."

"What is it?" Doesn’t she see how dangerous something like this could be? "Why the hesitation?" Claire loosened her hold and backed away until she was looking into sad green eyes.

"Because…she’s my sister."

*******************************