ean followed Ruby back down the trail. Though they didn't talk, the forest was alive with sounds. Birds squawked and chirped in the trees overhead, squirrels chattered, water splashed.

At the park, he tossed the picnic basket-still filled with a lunch unpacked and uneaten-in the trash can. Curling the heavy blanket around his shoulders, he climbed tiredly onto his bike.

When they reached the summer house, he pulled off to the side of the road and got off his bike.

Ruby stopped a few feet ahead, then set her kick stand and turned to him, frowning. "I guess this is where I say good-bye."

He heard the crack in her voice and it gave him hope. Ruby could push him away from now until forever, and he would still know the truth. He could see it in her eyes, hear it in her tremulous voice. He'd felt it in her kiss. "For now."

"It was just a kiss," she said. "Don't turn it into Gone with the Wind."

He took a step toward her. "You must have confused me with one of your Hollywood idiot-boys." She wanted to move backward; he could tell.

"Wh-what do you mean?"

Now he was close enough to touch her, to kiss her; but he stood perfectly still. "I know you, Ruby. You can pretend all you want, but that kiss meant something. Tonight we'll both lie in bed and think about it."

Ruby flushed. "You knew a teenager a decade ago. That doesn't mean you know me.

He smiled. It was so precisely the sort of thing she would have said at sixteen. "You might have built a wall around your heart, but you haven't exchanged it.

Somewhere, deep inside, you're still the girl I fell in love with." At last he touched her cheek, a fleeting caress.

He wanted to do more, to pull her into his arms, hold her close and whisper; I love you, but he knew he couldn't push her that far. Not yet.

"For years after you were gone, I thought I saw you," he said quietly. "Every time I rounded a corner or came up to a stoplight or got off an airplane, I'd think for a split second, There she is. I'd run up to the person, tap her shoulder, and find myself smiling awkwardly at a stranger. I still walk on the right side of the sidewalk, because you like the left."

Her mouth trembled. "I'm afraid."

"The girl I knew wasn't afraid of anything-"

"That girl's been gone for years."

"Isn't there some part of her left?"

She stood there a long time, staring up at him, then finally she turned away.

He knew she wasn't going to answer. "Okay," he said with a sigh. "I'll concede this round." He climbed onto his bike and started to go.

"Wait."

He stumbled off his bike so fast he almost fell. It clattered to the ground as he spun back to face her.

The way she was looking at him reminded him of when she was nine years old and she fell out of the oak tree on Finnegans' farm... or when she was twelve and broke her arm skateboarding down Front Street.

She took a step closer and looked up at him. He couldn't be certain, but she looked ready to cry. "You sound so sure."

He smiled. "You taught me love, Ruby. Every time you held my hand when I was scared, or came to one of my ball games or left a note in my locker, I learned a little more about it. Maybe when we were kids, I took that for granted, but I'm not a kid anymore. I've spent a lot of years alone and every date I went on only proved again how special we were."

"My parents were special," she said slowly. "You and Eric were special."

"So, your point is, love dies."

"An ugly, painful death."

It saddened him, knowing how her heart, once so open and pure, had been trampled by the very people who should have protected it. "Okay. Love hurts. I can't deny that. But what about loneliness?"

"I'm not lonely."

"Liar."

She stepped away from him. Without a backward look or a wave or anything, she jumped on her bike and rode away.

"Go ahead," he called after her. "Run away. You can only go so far."

Ruby knew her mother would be waiting for her. She'd probably be sitting at the kitchen table, or in the rocker on the porch, pretending to be occupied by some small task. Maybe knitting; she'd always loved to knit.

Ruby stopped pedaling. The bike slowed down, rattling and bumping over the uneven road. When she reached the minivan, she dumped the bike at the side of the gardening shed and headed down to the house. The gate creaked loudly at her touch.

She stepped into the kitchen and found her mother at the stove, stirring something in an old iron pot. She was wearing her old apron-the one that said A WOMAN'S PLACE IS IN THE VERY HOUSE... AND THE SENATE.

"Ruby," she said, looking up in surprise. "I didn't expect you back so soon." She glanced at the door, now closed behind Ruby. "Where's Dino?"

Ruby stood there. God help her, she couldn't talk. The kitchen smelled of pot roast, slow-cooking all day with baby carrots and oven-browned potatoes. A cookie sheet sat on the counter. On it, homemade his cults were rising. And unless Ruby missed her guess, that was vanilla custard Mom was stirring.

She'd made Ruby's all-time favorite dinner.

Just then, Ruby didn't know which hurt more-the effort her mother had made to please her, or the fact that Dean wasn't here to share it. All she knew was that if she didn't get out of this room soon, she was going to burst into tears.

"Dean went home," she said.

A frown darted across her mother's face. She turned off the burner, carefully placed the wooden spoon across the top of the pot, and grabbed her crutches, then limped toward Ruby. Step-thump-step-thump. The uneven footsteps matched the beat of Ruby's heart. "What happened?"

"I don't know. I guess we started something we couldn't finish. Or maybe we finished something we'd started a longtime ago." She shrugged and looked away.

"This won't be like Max," her mother said.

"I love Dean," Ruby admitted. "But that's not enough. It wouldn't last, anyway."

"Love is nothing without faith."

"I lost that faith a long time ago."

"Of course you did. And you're right to blame your dad and me for it, but that doesn't matter anymore whose fault it is. What matters is you. Can you let yourself jump without a net? Because that's what love is, what faith is. You're looking for a guarantee, and those come with auto parts. Not love."

"Yeah, right. Love put you in a mental institution."

Mom laughed. "I think it makes lunatics of us all."

It felt good to talk to her mother this way. As friends. It was something Ruby had never even imagined.

It was true; love made everybody crazy. All those years Ruby had spent angry with her mother, sending back presents unopened and refusing all contact-it wasn't because she'd felt betrayed.

Those years, those feelings and actions, had been about... longing. Simple longing.

She'd missed her mother so much that the only way she'd been able to go on in the world was to pretend she was alone.

I'm not alone anymore.

That one sentence, once thought, formed a road that led Ruby to herself. She didn't say it aloud. Instinctively, she knew that if she, her voice would be a child's, full of awe and bewilderment. And she would cry.

I can't write the article.

"I've got to go upstairs," she said suddenly, seeing the surprise on her mother's face. Ruby didn't care. She ran upstairs and went to the phone, dialing Val's number.

Maudeen answered on the second ring. "Lightner and Associates, may I help you?"

"Hi, Maudeen," Ruby said, sitting on the bed, drawing her knees up. "It's Ruby Bridge. Is the Great Oz in?"

Maudeen laughed. "He and Julian went to a premiere in New York. He'll be back on Monday, and he's calling in for messages."

"Okay. Tell him I won't be delivering my article."

"You mean it's going to be late?"

"I'm not going to turn it in at all."

"Oh, my. You'd better give me your address and phone number again. He'll want to talk to you."

Ruby gave out the information, then hung up. She hadn't even realized that she was reaching for her writing pad, but there it was, sitting on her lap. It was time now to finish what she'd begun. Slowly, she began to write.

I have just called my agent. When he calls back, I will tell him that I can't turn in this article. I never thought about what it meant to write an expose' on my own mother.

Can you believe I was so blind? I took the money that was given to me-my thirty pieces of silver and I spent it like a teenager would, on a fast car and expensive clothes.

But I didn't think.

I dreamed. I imagined. I saw myself on Letterman and Leno, a witty charming guest plugging her own skyrocketing career. I never noticed that I'd be standing on my mother's broken back to reach the microphone.

My dreams, as usual, were all about me.

Now, I see the people around me, and I know what the price of my selfish actions will be.

As I write, I am reminded of that passage from the Bible-the one that is read at every wedding: When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child."

Now, I understand as an adult. Maybe for the first time in my life. This article would break my mother's heart, and perhaps even worse, her spirit. That didn't matter to me a week ago; in fact, I wanted to hurt her then.

My only excuse: then I was a child.

I can't do it anymore; not to her and not to me. For the first time, I have drawn back the dark curtain of anger and seen the bright day beyond.

I can be my mother's daughter again.

Even as I write that sentence, I feel its powerful seduction. I can't totally express you-strangers how it feels to be motherless. The ache... the longing.

She is the keeper of my past. She knows the secret moments that have formed me, and even with all that I have done to her, I can feel that still she is able to love me.

Will anyone else ever love me so unconditionally

I doubt it.

I can't give that up. Cache' will have to find someone else to betray Nora Bridge. I am going home.

Ruby felt better now. Her decision was down in print, formed and solid in bright blue letters.

She would not turn in the article.

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

In Friday Harbor, the marina was a hive of activity; boats coming in and going out, kids racing along the cement docks, nets in hand, boaters bringing groceries down to their moored boats in creaky wooden carts.

This town was the center of the American section of this archipelago. For more than one hundred years, islanders had come to this port for groceries, boat repairs, and companionship. The town was an enchanting mix of old, decrepit buildings and newer ones, built with a reverence for the past in mind It was a place where pedestrians and bikers were as liable to be in the middle of Main Street as an automobile, and the honk of a car horn was almost never heard. Like all of the islands, San Juan had learned long ago to depend on the tourist trade. The downtown area was an eclectic mix of art galleries, souvenir shops, gift emporiums, and restaurants-with prices that forced the locals to drive off island for their daily needs, and encouraged the Californian tourists to buy two of everything.

Dean walked aimlessly up and down the streets. Today had depressed the hell out of him, and he knew it shouldn't have. Nothing had ever been easy with Ruby. Love would be the most difficult of all.

He came to a camera shop and went inside. On a whim, he bought a kick-ass camera and enough film to record the tearing down of the Berlin Wall. Finally, he heard the ferry's horn, and knew it was time to get down to the dock. He jumped on his bike and raced downhill. He was late, so he followed the last car onto the boat.

On Lopez, he stopped by the grocery store and bought a few things, then pedaled home as fast as he could. By the time he reached the house, the sun was just beginning to set. In the kitchen, Lottie was busy chopping up vegetables for stir-fry. He gave her a quick wave hello and hurried up to Eric's room.

"Hey, bro," Eric said, smiling tiredly, sitting up. "How was your bike ride?"

Dean went to him. "Guess what I bought?" He opened the small blue insulated bag and withdrew a melting Popsicle.

Eric's eyes widened. "A Rainbow Rocket. I didn't think they still made them."

Dean unwrapped the soggy white wrapper and handed his brother the dripping, multicolored Popsicle. He had to help Eric hold it-his hands were weak and unresponsive-but the smile on Eric's face was straight from the old days.

Eric closed his eyes and made groaning sounds of pleasure as he licked the Popsicle. When he finished, he set the gooey stick on the bedside tray and sighed. The bed whirred to a more upright position. "That was great," he said, leaning deeper into the pillows. He slowly turned his head. "I'd forgotten how much I loved those things."

"I remembered," Dean said. "I've been remembering a lot of things lately."

"Like?"

"Remember the fort we made inside that dead log on Mrs. Nutter's land? When she discovered us, she chased us all the way down her driveway with a broom-"

"Screaming that we were rich-kid hooligans."

"She threatened to call our parents-"

"And we told her Mom was in Barbados and the call would cost her a fortune." Eric's laughter faded into a hacking cough, then disappeared altogether.

"There's something else, too," Dean said. He went to his own bedroom, then returned with a comic book.

Eric blinked up at him. "My missing Batman. The only issue I ever lost."

Dean smiled. "You didn't lose it. Your little brother was mad at you one day for not sharing your Wacky Wallwalker, and he took your Batman. He could never figure out how to give it back."

Smiling, Eric took the comic, thumbed through it. "I always knew you took it. Shithead."

"Do you want me to read it to you?" Eric set it on his lap. "Ah... I guess not. I'm too tired. Just talk to me."

Dean leaned over the bed rail and gazed down at his. "I went to see Ruby today."

“And?”

Let's just say the door hit me in the ass on the way out."

Eric laughed. That's our Ruby. Never gives an inch. Did you tell her you loved her?"

I asked her what she would say if I did."

Eric rolled his eyes. "How Cary Grant of you. It's hard to sweep a girl off her feet with a line like that."

"How would you know?"

Girl. Boy. It's all the same, kiddo. Romance. And frankly, you'd better get a move on. I want to be around for your happily-ever-after."

"I know, I know. You're dying."

Damn right, I am. So, when is round two?"

Dean sighed. "I don't know. I'll need to stock up on defensive weapons. Maybe something will happen tomorrow, when we all go sailing."

"You do love her, though?"

I don't think I ever stopped loving her. I wanted to,

I tried to, but she was always in my dreams, the girl I measured every other woman against. But that doesn't mean she still loves me. Or that, if she did love me, she'd believe in it."

Don't let her push you away again."

It's not that easy. I can't do all the work. I won't do all the work. If she wants a future, she's gonna have to put out a little effort."

"Well, I hope it works out fast. I wanted to be the best man at your wedding."

"You will be." Dean struggled to keep his voice even. Their eyes met, and in his brother's gaze, he saw the sad truth. They both knew it was dream-spinning, this conversation of theirs. Eric would not be putting on a tuxedo and standing in shiny shoes beside Dean at the altar.

"I'm glad you came home, Dino. I couldn't have done this without you.

Home. The simple, complex word found purchase in his heart. He'd known it would be hard to stand by and watch his brother die, but until this moment, he hadn't realized that it would end. This good-bye, strung out as it was over the briefest of time spans, was all that was left to them, and Dean would have to cling to these memories in the dark days that were sure to follow.

If Ruby did miraculously admit to lovingDean, who would he tell? Who would laugh at him and say, You must have done something to piss God off if He chose Ruby as your one true love.

There were so many things left to say between him and Eric, but how--where--did you begin? How could you experience a lifetime in a few short days? And what about the things that floated past them, accidentally unsaid? What if Dean ended up moving through a colorless, Eric-less world in which he couldn't think of anything except what should have been said?

"Don't," Eric said.

Dean blinked, realizing he'd been silent too long. Tears stung his eyes. He tried to casually wipe them away. "Don't what?"

"You're imagining the world without me."

"I don't know how to get through this."

Eric reached out. His pale, blue-veined hand covered Dean's and pressed firmly. "When I start feeling overwhelmed, I go back in time instead of ahead. I remember how we used to play red rover at Camp Orkila. Or how you used to sit cross-legged in your room, with your eyes closed, trying to levitate your toys when Lottie made you clean your room." He smiled tiredly and closed his eyes, and Dean could see that he was losing his brother to sleep once again. "I remember the first time I saw Charlie. He was making a sandwich at the college lunch hangout. Mostly, I just remember what I've had and not what I'm leaving behind."

Dean's throat was so tight he couldn't answer.

"The best part is you." Eric's voice was barely above a whisper now. His words were starting to sound garbled, as if he were more than half asleep. "Since you're back, I dream again. It's nice...

"Dream," Dean said softly, placing his brother's limp hand on top of the blanket, then stroking his warm forehead. "Dream of who you would have been, and who you were. The bravest, smartest, best brother a kid ever had."

After dinner, Nora went out to the porch and sat in her favorite rocking chair. In this magical hour, poised between day and night, the sky was the soft hue of a girl's ballet slipper.

The screen door squeaked open and banged shut. "I brought you some tea," Ruby said, stepping into the porchlight's glow. "Constant Comment with cream and sugar, right?"

"Thanks," Nora said. "Join me." Ruby sat down in the rocker. Leaning back, she crossed her legs at the ankle and rested her feet on the small, frosted glass table beside the love seat. "I've been thinking."

"There's aspirin in the bathroom cabinet."

"Very funny. It didn't give me a headache. It gave me... a heartache."

Nora turned to her.

"I think I was easy to leave."

"Don't say that. You were an innocent victim."

"I'm tired of that answer." Ruby smiled, but it was a sad, curving of the lips that lasted no time at all. "I was a bitch to Dean after you left."

"That's understandable."

"I know. I had every right to be a bitch. I was lost and in pain. But was he supposed to love me when I wasn't lovable, when I wouldn't let him get close?

I expected love from him when I gave none, and then I fucked another guy just to see if Dean would love me no matter what. Big surprise: He didn't." She leaned forward again, rested her forearms on her thighs, and studied Nora. "And I was worse to you. All those years, you sent letters and gifts and left phone messages. I knew you cared about me. I knew you were sorry, and I was proud of hurting you. I thought it was the least you deserved. So, don't disagree with me when I say that I have been the architect of some of my own pain."

Nora smiled. "We all are. Growing up is when we finally understand that. Remember those strawberry hard candies that used to show up in your Easter basket every year?"

"Yes."

"That's you, Ruby. You've built a hard shell to protect your soft heart. Only it doesn't work. I know you don't have faith in love, and I know I made you that way, but it's a half life, kiddo. Maybe you see that now. Without love, the loneliness just goes on and on."

Ruby looked down at her clasped hands. "I was lonely when I lived with Max."

Of course you were. You didn't love him."

"I wanted to. Maybe I could have if I'd let myself."

"I don't think love is like that. It just... strikes.

Like lightning."

"And fries you to a crisp."

And turns your hair white."

"And stops your heart."

Nora's smile faded. "You should give Dean a chance. Stick around a while longer, see what happens. Unless you need to get back to your career...

"What career?" The moment she said it, Ruby looked up sharply, as if she hadn't meant to say that.

"What do you mean?"

I'm not funny."

The words seemed to take something away from Ruby; she looked young and vulnerable.

Nora didn't know how to respond. Did her daughter want honesty, empathy, or contradiction?

There was no way to know. All Nora could do was speak to the girl she'd once known. That girl, the young Ruby, had been honest to a fault and able to look life square in the eye.

"We both know you are funny. You've always had a great sense of humor. But are you funny enough, and often enough, to make a living at it? Have you taken classes, analyzed people like Robin Williams and Richard Pryor and Jerry Seinfeld? Do you know how they make their material sound funny?"

Ruby looked stunned. "You sound like my agent. He's always trying to get me to take classes. At least, he used to. He's kind of given up on me now.

"Why didn't you take his advice?"

"I thought it was about talent." The word seemed to make her uncomfortable. She gave Nora a little half smile as if to acknowledge it.

"Most things take more discipline than talent." Nora studied her daughter. "Is your material funny?"

"Most of the time. It's my delivery that sucks. And I'm not comfortable onstage."

Nora smiled. She couldn't help remembering "Mom? You're spacing out on me.

"I'm sorry. I heard your act once. One of my readers sent me a tape of it."

Ruby turned pale. "Really?"

"I have to admit it hurt like hell. You compared me to a rabbit-soft and pretty on the outside, and capable of eating her young." She laughed. "Anyway, I thought your stuff was funny, and I wasn't surprised by that. I always thought you'd be a writer."

"Really?"

Your stories were wonderful. You had a way of looking at the world that amazed me."

Ruby swallowed hard. "I like writing. I... thinkI'm good at it. Lately, I've been thinking about writing a book."

"You should give it a try."

Ruby bit her lower lip, worrying it, and Nora knew she'd overstepped. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to suggest-"

"It's okay, Mom. It's just that I almost did write something, but it was too personal. About us, our family. I didn't want to hurt... anyone."

Ruby looked heartbreakingly young and earnest right then. "Sometimes people get hurt, Ruby. It's never something you should seek out, or do on purpose, but you can't live a life that hurts no one. If you try, you'll end up touching no one."

"I wouldn't want to hurt you," Ruby said quietly.

Before Nora could respond, she heard the sound of a car driving up. It parked, and the engine fell silent. A door slammed shut.

Ruby glanced toward the garden. "Are we expecting someone?"

"No."

Footsteps rattled on gravel. A rusty gate creaked open and clattered shut.

Someone thumped up the sagging porch steps and walked into the light.