here do you think you're going?" I was almost angry that she was leaving me.

I hadn't had enough time with her. She couldn't go, not yet.

"I'm going home," she said, baffled as to why this should upset me.

"Didn't you hear me promise to take you safely home? Do you think I'm going to let you drive in your condition?" I knew she wouldn't like that - my implication of weakness on her part. But I needed to practice for the Seattle trip, anyway. See if I could handle her proximity in an enclosed space. This was a much shorter journey.

"What condition?" she demanded. "And what about my truck?"

"I'll have Alice drop it off after school." I pulled her back to my car carefully, as I now knew that walking forward was challenging enough for her.

"Let go!" she said, twisting sideways and nearly tripping. I held one hand out to catch her, but she righted herself before it was necessary. I shouldn't be looking for excuses to touch her. That started me thinking about Ms. Cope's reaction to me, but I filed it away for later. There was much to be considered on that front.

I let her go beside the car, and she stumbled into the door. I would have to be even more careful, to take into account her poor balance...

"You are so pushy!"

"It's open."

I got in on my side and started the car. She held her body rigidly, still outside, though the rain had picked up and I knew she didn't like the cold and wet. Water was soaking through her thick hair, darkening it to near black.

"I am perfectly capable of driving myself home!"

Of course she was - I just wasn't capable of letting her go.

I rolled her window down and leaned toward her. "Get in, Bella."

Her eyes narrowed, and I guessed that she was debating whether or not to make a run for it.

"I'll just drag you back," I promised, enjoying the chagrin on her face when she realized I meant it.

Her chin stiffly in the air, she opened her door and climbed in. Her hair dripped on the leather and her boots squeaked against each other.

"This is completely unnecessary," she said coldly. I thought she looked embarrassed under the pique.

I just turned up the heater so she wouldn't be uncomfortable, and set the music to a nice background level. I drove out toward the exit, watching her from the corner of my eye. Her lower lip was jutting out stubbornly. I stared at this, examining how it made me feel... thinking of the secretary's reaction again...

Suddenly she looked at the stereo and smiled, her eyes widening. "Clair de Lune?" she asked.

A fan of the classics? "You know Debussy?"

"Not well," she said. "My mother plays a lot of classical music around the house - I only know my favorites."

"It's one of my favorites, too." I stared at the rain, considering that. I actually had something in common with the girl. I'd begun to think that we were opposites in every way.

She seemed more relaxed now, staring at the rain like me, with unseeing eyes. I used her momentary distraction to experiment with breathing.

I inhaled carefully through my nose.

Potent.

I clutched the steering wheel tighter. The rain made her smell better. I wouldn't have thought that was possible. Stupidly, I was suddenly imaging how she would taste. I tried to swallow against the burn in my throat, to think of something else.

"What is your mother like?" I asked as a distraction.

Bella smiled. "She looks a lot like me, but she's prettier."

I doubted that.

"I have too much Charlie in me," she went on. "She's more outgoing than I am, and braver."

I doubted that, too.

"She's irresponsible and slightly eccentric, and she's a very unpredictable cook. She's my best friend." Her voice had turned melancholy; her forehead creased.

Again, she sounded more like parent than child.

I stopped in front of her house, wondering too late if I was supposed to know where she lived. No, this wouldn't be suspicious in such a small town, with her father a public figure...

"How old are you, Bella?" She must be older than her peers. Perhaps she'd been late to start school, or been held back...that wasn't likely, though.

"I'm seventeen," she answered.

"You don't seem seventeen."

She laughed.

"What?"

"My mom always says I was born thirty-five years old and that I get more middleaged every year." She laughed again, and then sighed. "Well, someone has to be the adult."

This clarified things for me. I could see it now...how the irresponsible mother helped explain Bella's maturity. She'd had to grow up early, to become the caretaker. That's why she didn't like being cared for - she felt it was her job.

"You don't seem much like a junior in high school yourself," she said, pulling me from my reverie.

I grimaced. For everything I perceived about her, she perceived too much in return. I changed the subject.

"So why did your mother marry Phil?"

She hesitated a minute before answering. "My mother...she's very young for her age. I think Phil makes her feel even younger. At any rate, she's crazy about him." She shook her head indulgently.

"Do you approve?" I wondered.

"Does it matter?" she asked. "I want her to be happy...and he is who she wants." The unselfishness of her comment would have shocked me, except that it fit in all too well with what I'd learned of her character.

"That's very generous...I wonder."

"What?"

"Would she extend the same courtesy to you, do you think? No matter who your choice was?"

It was a foolish question, and I could not keep my voice casual while I asked it.

How stupid to even consider someone approving of me for their daughter. How stupid to even think of Bella choosing me.

"I-I think so," she stuttered, reacting in some way to my gaze. Fear...or attraction?

"But she's the parent, after all. It's a little bit different," she finished. I smiled wryly. "No one too scary then."

She grinned at me. "What do you mean by scary? Multiple facial piercings and extensive tattoos?"

"That's one definition, I suppose." A very nonthreatening definition, to my mind. "What's your definition?"