She said, her throat suddenly dry, "It was Winston
Rayne?  You. . .you have a form of the Sight as well?"  Molly
nodded, her eyes blazing now with anger.  For the first time,
Rachel understood that there were many kinds of reckonings.
And since Lissa refused to hold Rachel accountable for what
she had said and done in the past, the enraged spirit of
Winston Rayne had gone to her aunt instead. . .knowing that
Molly would listen where Lissa had not.
 
     For despite his wrongdoings and mistakes and weaknesses,
Winston Rayne was a parent who loved his offspring.  And like
his son and granddaughter, he would tolerate no one hurting
his child. . .his children.  Rachel had done that, she had
hurt Derek with her wild accusations when the fault had
belonged solely to Winston Rayne, and when she had
thoughtlessly told Alex that Lissa would never forgive
Philip for the choice she was forced to make.
 
     Rachel thought back to her conversation with Clayton
Wallace, nearly a year earlier, when his daughter Samantha
was dying.  A parent did whatever was necessary to protect
their child, to save their child. . .that had been what
Clayton was trying to tell her.  And it didn't matter how old
the child was, or even if the parent was dead.
 
     When she blamed Derek for her mother's death, Winston
Rayne had evidently sworn to make her pay in any way he
could.  By telling Fiona's youngest sister about Rachel's
misdeeds, he had finally found a suitable punishment for the
woman who had hurt his son.  Molly Summers was the one person
who would hold Rachel accountable, because she didn't have to
deal with Rachel on a daily basis.
 
     She was the one person who wouldn't make excuses for
Rachel's behavior, because she had no reason or desire to do
so.  She was the one person who could put Rachel 'in her
place,' because she was the one person who would do so.  In
short. . .Winston Rayne had known exactly what he was doing.

     Once she thought Rachel would listen, Molly said, "Yes,
I have a form of the Sight, which allows me to converse with
the dead.  Winston had never had much use for me, or my
sisters, understand.  But when Lissa tried to defend you
while she was holed up in Peru, Winston decided to come to
me.  I didn't want to hear the things he had to tell me. . .
didn't want to hear what my brother-in-law had allowed into
the Legacy.  But someone has to look out for my family."
 
     Molly took a deep breath, then continued, "Do you know
what it's taken, these last few days, to keep from screaming
every time Nick or Derek makes an excuse for your bratty
behavior?  Hearing them say, 'oh, she's been through a lot,'
as if that excuses every snide remark?  Lady, you have been
through nothing!  Now, maybe you have been through hell.  But
at least have the class to apologize. . .or doesn't the great
Dr. Rachel Corrigan have to apologize?  Are you above that?"
 
     "I have apologized to Lissa!  And I blamed Derek because
I was in shock. . .dammit, he saved my little girl!  Not just
once, but twice!  Weighed between what his father did to my
mother, and what Derek did for my baby, what do you think is
more important to me?" Rachel cried out.
 
     "And what's your excuse for patronizing my niece and
Alex?  Hmm?  Were you in shock then as well?  Those two might
be younger than you are, but they are a helluva lot more with
it!  And you're a goddamn shrink!  What's your excuse for
ignoring Philip?  What, can't you deal with a priest who is
as good-looking as he is?  Dammit, woman, he's put his life
on the line how many times for Kat?" Molly shot back.
 
     "And I'm grateful to him for that!  But the fact of the
matter is, Philip hasn't been around as much.  Philip did not
save my life when I first joined the Legacy, nor did he save
my soul from my late aunt's ghost.  That was Nick's doing,"
Rachel answered hotly.  She composed herself, then continued,
"I don't mean to patronize Alex or Lissa. . .but they are
both so young, so passionate, so intense!  And Lissa grew up
without a mother figure in her life."
                                                            
     "Correction," Molly said, holding up one finger, "she
grew up without a mother, not without a mother figure.  She
had me, she had Starr for a brief time, and she had Sister
Lourdes.  And Sister Lourdes took the best care out of all
three of us.  It was she who gave my niece her job at the
retirement home, it was she who sponsored Lissa at Loyola for
the first few years, and it was she who took care of Lissa
until it was time for Lis to come to Toronto."
 
     Molly took a breath, then continued, "You know, it
really bugs Lissa when you call her 'honey.'  You talk to her
as if she's Kat's age.  She's not.  She's almost twenty-seven
years old, an ex-cop with a six year old daughter, and she
has paid her dues both in and out of the Legacy.  So maybe
you should think about treating her with a little respect."
 
     "She's never said anything to me about it!" Rachel
exclaimed and Molly rolled her eyes.  How dense could one
woman be?  Pretty dense, if her name was Rachel Corrigan, it
would seem.  Molly was still trying to figure out how this
airhead became a certified psychiatrist.
 
     "I know I've said you're not real bright, but even you
should be able to figure that one out, Rachel.  Lis won't say
anything, because she was taught to respect her elders.  And,
she doesn't want to contribute to tension in the House.  So
she lets the frustration build inside her, until she can take
it out on a punching bag. . .or until some moron makes a
smart-ass remark about her never forgiving her best friend
for putting her in a bad position," Molly said.
 
     Rachel started to answer, but fell silent.  Molly turned
to see her niece in the doorway, looking very, very tired.
Lissa said quietly, "Philip is sleeping.  I stopped by the
kitchen on the way back from his room, and Cassie is fine.  I
asked her to stay with him after she finishes the cookies.
You know Cass. . .she loves playing little mother." Molly
nodded, wishing she could take away the pain in her niece's
eyes, and Lissa continued, "Rachel, I'm ready to go whenever
you are.  Shall we pick up Kat on the way home?"
                                                            
     "Yes, school will be out around two thirty. . .and the
school is on the way back.  Philip is all right, then?  No
more pain than usual?" Rachel asked and Lissa smiled
reassuringly.  The psychiatrist said, "I'm glad to hear that.
Then you and I should be off.  We'll continue this discussion
when I return, Dr. Summers."
 
     Molly nodded, but she heard Lissa mutter under her
breath as she left the room, "That'll happen over my dead
body!"  Molly cringed, thinking of how close she had come to
losing Lissa for good a few weeks earlier.  The bullet could
have just as easily entered her lung, or exploded her heart.
A thousand different scenarios, none good, could have
happened.  But Lissa was still alive, and there was still a
chance that Cassie would get to know her mother.  So Molly's
own time with her daughter was running out.
 
      .                        .                        .
  
     Alone in his office, Derek tried to concentrate on the
mounds of paperwork in front of him.  There was a communique
from the precept of Calcutta House, and Derek knew it was
important, but he just couldn't deal with it at that moment.
His mind was still reeling from his daughter's revelations.
 
     Derek accepted and embraced the fact that he had a
grandchild.  For some odd reason, having a six year old
granddaughter from his not-yet-twenty-seven year old daughter
wasn't a problem for him.  He had hoped to have children and
grandchildren one day. . .he just hadn't expected either
event any time soon.  Nor had he expected to see his
grandchildren while he was alive.  But Lissa had changed all
of that.  His beautiful, loving daughter had produced a
daughter every bit as beautiful and loving as she was.
                                                            
     However, the matter of Cassie's conception was something
else again.  Derek's mind screamed at the idea of his little
girl being subjected to such abuse.  He thought of the child
who had made Philip smile again. . .the little girl who had
brought Philip back to life after his parents' deaths.  He
thought of the ten year old girl at her mother's funeral,
trying oh so hard to be brave.  And then he thought of the
young girl who was robbed of her innocence twice.
 
     My daughter was raped.  It was a devastating refrain
in Derek's mind, a continuous taunt from beyond the grave.
And Dr. Derek Rayne knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he
would have killed William Reynolds a second and third time
for what he had done to Lissa.  For what he had done to that
sweet, wonderful little girl. . .for what he had done to
Derek's treasured only child.
 
     Never mind God's justice, never mind what the church and
his sister would say. . .Derek wanted to kill.  He wanted
someone to pay for what his little girl had suffered.  And as
hard as he tried to turn his attention back to the business
at hand, the image of ten year old Lissa at Fiona's service
stayed with him.  I could have prevented it, he thought,
I could have stopped that bastard from raping my daughter,
if I had just fought for her!  Derek buried his face in his
hands, overwhelmed by guilt.
 
     .                        .                        .
  
     The trip to the Tyler house was silent.  After the first
few attempts at apologizing were met with, 'I don't want to
talk about it, Rachel,' the psychiatrist finally gave up.  It
was well within Lissa's right to shut down. . .she hadn't
been ready to discuss what Reynolds had done to her.

     And I forced her hand, Rachel thought, she's
still recovering from the choice she was forced to make to
save Philip, and I forced her hand.  Why?  Because I was
pissed off at her aunt, and wanted to make someone Molly
loved pay.  I behaved like a spoiled brat.
 
     At last, Lissa pulled into a small, attractive cottage.
A young girl sat out on the front steps, and her face lit up
as Lissa pulled into the driveway.  She rose to her feet and
bounded down the steps to the car, exclaiming, "Detective
Rayne!  Dad said you would be coming today!"
 
     "Hi, Kendra. . .you've grown since the last time I saw
you!  This is Dr. Corrigan. . .she's also with the Luna
Foundation.  Rachel, this is Kendra Tyler," Lissa replied.
The girl smiled at Rachel uncertainly, and Rachel remembered
what Lissa had told her about Adrian Tyler's attitude toward
psychiatrists in a professional capacity.
 
     "Hi, Dr. Corrigan.  Come on inside. . .Detective Rayne,
I think Dad will want to know how Father Philip is doing.
You know how Dad is," the thirteen year old said as she
stepped back from the car, allowing Lissa to get out.  Rachel
exited on her side of the car, joining the younger woman and
the girl on the sidewalk.  Lissa laughed.
 
     "Yeah, I know exactly how your dad is. . .and I know
you're probably worried about him as well.  He's still in
some pain, because he doesn't know how to take it easy, but
we're taking care of him," the young woman said, putting her
arm around Kendra's thin shoulders.
 
     She was a pretty young girl, with long, dark blonde hair
and startling blue eyes.  She reminded Rachel of what Kat
might look like in a few years, and the psychiatrist
shuddered.  Her baby would be a teenager very soon, in just a
few years. . .why did children grow up so fast?  Kendra said
as she opened the door, "I'm really glad Father Philip is
okay.  All the kids out at school were really worried about
him.  He's always so nice, even to us kids."
                                                             
     The girl paused to take a breath, then continued, "We
just had a new girl transfer in. . .she's not Catholic, but
her parents said she could go to St. Bart's.  I couldn't
believe it, Detective Rayne, she already knows Father Philip!
She said that he really helped her last year, and that's why
her mom and dad are letting her go to St. Bart's."
 
     Rachel studied her companion's face for any signs of
strain. . .she was sure it pierced Lissa's heart every time
Kendra called her 'Detective,' but none of the pain reflected
on her face or in her eyes.  The former detective replied,
"That's great, Kendra, how did he help your friend?"
 
     "Well, see, the minister of the church she was
attending, like, told her that she didn't deserve to be
loved?  Well, her best friend Nina, like, goes to St. Bart's
and Maddy. . .that's her name, Madison Stuart. . .anyhow,
Maddy went with her to Mass.  She was like, really impressed
with Father Philip, because he's so nice.  After Mass, she
was talking to him, and he told us that God loves us no
matter what, no matter how geeky we act," Kendra replied.
 
     Rachel stiffened. . .she didn't know Philip very well,
but she could just about imagine how he had reacted to
Maddy's plight.  Lissa said wryly, shaking her head, "Oh,
that's a great way to get on Philip's bad side. . .abusing a
little kid!  So is Maddy all right now?"
 
     "Yeah, she's fine!  She went home and told her mom and
dad. . .they got really mad at their minister.  Then they
called Father Philip and told him thank you for being so nice
to Maddy.  Maddy said Father Philip goes that he wasn't doing
anything special, and Maddy's mom said that helping her
daughter was something very special, especially since Maddy
and her parents aren't Catholic," Kendra replied.
 
     They were now inside the living room, and Rachel glanced
around the room.  It was neat, with pictures hanging on the
wall of the San Francisco area, as well as a portrait of a
young woman sitting on the mantel. . .Melody Tyler.

     "So now you and Maddy are really good friends?" Lissa
asked, smiling, and the girl nodded vehemently.  The young
woman continued after a moment, "Good.  Hang onto her,
Kendra, she sounds like a really loyal person.  Those are the
best friends to have."  Rachel nodded without speaking.
 
     "Oh, she's totally loyal.  When I told her that you were
a friend of Father Philip's, and that you were going to help
me with my nightmares, Maddy goes that any friend of Father
Philip has to be way cool.  I told her that I thought you
were way cool, even before I knew that you were a friend of
Father Philip's," Kendra replied.
 
     "Speaking of Father Callaghan, how is he?  Are you
making sure he behaves himself?" Adrian asked, entering the
living room from the adjacent room, which seemed to be the
kitchen.  He nodded to Rachel and smiled at Lissa, adding, "I
know how stubborn these Irish types can be."
 
     "You should. . .you're Irish yourself!  And he's fine.
He does have a tendency to push himself too hard, but he's
doing well.  Every time he starts pushing himself, Nick or my
dad or I make him rest.  Satisfied, Adri?" Lissa asked,
grinning.  The young doctor nodded and Lissa continued,
looking at Kendra, "You mentioned your nightmares. . .can you
tell us about them?"  That was how the interview began.
 
      .                        .                        .
  
     Ever since Philip had come out of his coma, he had
noticed the way Nick hovered.  It wasn't that Philip was
bothered by his friend's concern. . .he understood it.  Up to
a point. . .Philip had nearly died, and Nick *was* fiercely
protective of those he considered his family.

     But Philip had been awake for nearly three weeks, and
while he was still recovering, it had been established that
he would be all right.  Yet, Nick continued to hover, and
Philip sensed that something was troubling his friend.  At
last, growing uncomfortable with the silence as Nick puttered
about the room aimlessly, Philip said quietly, "Would you
like t' tell me what's troublin' you, Nick?"
 
     "I just found out some asshole sumbitch raped my little
sister, what the hell could be wrong?" Nick snapped.  Philip
knew that the retort wasn't really directed at him, but his
face must have paled, for Nick said, "Oh, shit, Philip, I'm
sorry!  I didn't mean to go off on you.  It's just. . .what
kind of sorry-assed bastard rapes an eleven year old girl?
Eleven years old, for Christ's sake!"
 
     "The kind of sorry-ass bastard who tells a little girl
that two of the people she loves most in the world don't love
her anymore. . .the kind of sorry-ass bastard who abuses a
child in every way he possibly can.  But there's somethin'
else that's weighin' on your mind, Nick," Philip observed.
 
     Nick didn't answer, and Philip continued, "Ever since I
woke up from bein' in the coma, you've been almost over-
protective of me.  I'm not. . .I'm tryin' t' understand,
Nick.  What happened while I was unconscious?  I know I
frightened you by almost dyin' and for that I am sorry, but
there's somethin' else that's goin' on here."
 
     For a long time, Philip didn't think Nick would reply,
but at last, his friend said quietly, "It was the night we
got the tape from Hitchcock. . .the night you almost died.  I
couldn't sleep. . .I was too angry, too sick, to relax or
rest.  So, to relax, I went downstairs to the weight room and
I took out my frustration on the punching bag."
 
     Philip nodded. . .that was something Nick and Lissa both
did when they couldn't relax enough to go to sleep.  Nick
continued, "I had a dream that night.  Usually, I don't even
remember my dreams, but this one was different."
                                                            
     Again, Nick fell silent and he looked down at his hands,
his jaw muscles tightening.  Philip started to speak, but
decided against it.  After a moment, Nick continued, "It was
a nightmare.  It didn't start out that way.  At first, I was
beating the shit out of Hitchcock and it felt so good, after
what he'd done to you and to Derek and to Lissa."
 
     Nick paused, swallowing hard, then went on, "Maybe
that's what went wrong.  I was enjoying it too much. . .but
dammit, he put my family through hell!  And that's when I
heard Kat screaming.  She kept screaming at me to stop, that
I was hurting him.  I didn't understand. . .why should she
care that Hitchcock was in pain, after everything he had done
to you, in particular?  I mean, I was angry with him for
shooting Lissa, for trying to kill Derek, but you were in the
most immediate danger at the time, you know?"
 
     Philip nodded and Nick's hands clenched in his lap.
When he looked up at Philip again, the young priest was
stunned to see tears in Nick's eyes.  The ex-SEAL said
hoarsely, "But it wasn't Hitchcock anymore. . .he had become
you.  I was beating you. . .and that's when I woke up."
 
     By now, Nick was almost sobbing and Philip put out his
hand unthinkingly, to comfort his friend, his brother.  But
once more, he overestimated his body's abilities, and the
pain in his ribs forced him to drop his hands.  He closed his
eyes, willing the dizziness and the pain to retreat. . .he
would not allow them to get in the way of what needed to be
done.  Nick grasped his shoulders, giving him an anchor.
 
     When Philip opened his eyes again, the grief had
disappeared from Nick's expression, leaving only concern.
The young priest managed a weak smile, saying, "Sorry about
that.  I can never remember how much is too much.  Nick. . .I
won't deny that the thin's you have said in the past hurt,
but we've dealt wi' that.  It's over.  And while we will
probably always argue, I know that you would never hurt me
willingly.  I know that, just as sure as I know that Derek
or Lissa would never hurt me deliberately."
                                                           
     "But it was so goddamn real, Philip. . .that's what
hurt.  I kept wondering if it was really Hitchcock whom I
wanted to hurt, or you.  Dammit, Philip, I was so mad at you
for scaring me!  You nearly died right in front of my eyes,
not just once but twice, and you did die!  For two or three
seconds, your heart wasn't beating.  And I was scared, and I
was furious with you for doing that to me," Nick replied.
 
     Philip was at a loss.  He had thought that everything
had been resolved weeks earlier.  Now, he was discovering
that he was wrong.  He was searching for something to say,
when a small voice asked, "Are you fighting, too?"  The two
men looked to the doorway, to find Cassie standing there.
 
     However, it was Nick who said, "No, sweetheart, we're
not arguing.  I was just trying to apologize to Philip for
all the times I was mean to him.  Didja finish those cookies?
Finish testing them, I should say."  Cassie nodded, entering
the room warily.  Her brown eyes were huge and filled with
worry.  For a moment, the resemblance to her mother took
Philip's breath away. . .down to the expression.
 
     "Yeah, they were really good.  Cook says that if Philip
behaves himself, he can have some for dessert.  Mummy and Dr.
Rachel were fighting again, weren't they?  That's why Duncan
took me to the kitchen," the little girl said, sitting down
on the bed beside Philip very carefully.
 
     The young priest had no idea how Cassie had realized
that, but he knew six year olds were far smarter and far more
sensitive than adults gave them credit for.  He replied, "Dr.
Rachel misinterpreted somethin,' Cassie, and Lissa didn't
want you t' get caught in the crossfire.  Did she tell you t'
come look after me when you were done wi' the cookies?"
Cassie nodded, still looking anxious.
 
     "Lissa told me to take care of you, since you would get
into trouble if you were left alone.  And you aren't lying to
me?  I'm not a baby," the little girl said.  Philip moved in
just the wrong way, and Cassie gasped, "I'm sorry!"
                                                          
     "It wasn't anything you did, kiddo. . .sometimes, Philip
moves the wrong way, and it hurts his ribs.  Or his arm.  And
no, we aren't lying to you.  We know you're not a baby.  Like
Philip said, Rachel misunderstood something, and Lissa knew
that the yelling would upset you," Nick said.
 
     Seemingly satisfied with this explanation, Cassie said,
"Mummy yells at home, too, but usually at one of my aunts or
uncles when she thinks they're being silly.  I don't like it
when Mummy yells. . .it scares me.  How come Mummy doesn't
like Dr. Rachel?  Does that mean I can't, either?"
 
     Philip hesitated, and Nick answered, "Your mother and
Rachel just have personalities that don't click.  Uh. . .
they just don't get along.  You know how Lissa gets along
with almost anyone, right?  Well, not everyone is like that.
There's just something about Rachel which irritates your mom,
and something about your mom which irritates Rachel.  And no,
it doesn't mean that you can't like Rachel.  If she's nice to
you, then that's all that matters."
 
     Cassie cocked her head to one side, then nodded.  This
seemed to make sense to the little girl, for she continued to
another topic, asking Philip solicitously, "Does your tummy
still hurt a lot?  When you were asleep in the hospital,
Mummy showed me where all you were hurt.  That was a very,
very mean man who hurt you and Lissa. . .I hope he dies!"
 
     Philip glared at Nick, who was almost doubled over with
laughter, and said, "God will take care of the man who hurt
me, and who hurt Lissa.  And t' answer your question, it
doesn't feel very good, but it doesn't hurt as much as it did
when I first woke up.  When I first woke up, I couldn't even
laugh wi'out hurtin.'  I have a scar, from where they did the
surgery t' make me better."
 
     Cassie's eyes went very wide and she said, "Oooh. . .can
I see it?"  Philip had to bite down hard on the inside of his
cheek to keep from laughing aloud at the child.  Typical six
year old, though that shouldn't have surprised him.
                                                           
     Solemnly, he said, "Well, it isn't very pretty t' look
at. . .I don't like t' look at it very much, so maybe you
won't either."  Nick rolled his eyes, and Philip considered
the advantages to throwing a pillow at his friend.  After a
moment, he decided against it.  It wasn't worth the pain.
 
     "It isn't pretty, but you are!" Cassie declared loyally
and Philip felt his face grow hot.  By now, Nick was laughing
so hard, he was almost in tears.  Trust Nick t' take such
pleasure in seein' me blush, Philip thought.  Cassie added,
"I promise I won't even touch it, Philip. . .please?"
 
     "Well. . .all right," the young priest sighed and pulled
his t-shirt up to reveal the still-livid scar on his abdomen.
Cassie's eyes went very, very wide.  She reached out a hand,
as if to touch it, then pulled back.  Like her mother, she
believed in keeping her promises.
 
     "Does. . .does it hurt a lot?  It looks like it would
hurt," Cassie whispered.  Philip allowed his t-shirt to fall
back over his body, and looked at the little girl who sat
beside him.  Her eyes were filled with tears, and Philip
wasn't sure if he should even attempt to comfort her.
 
     "The scar itches more than it hurts.  Cassie, please
don't cry. . .I'll be fine," the young priest said.  Cassie
wiped her tears away, but she still looked terribly upset,
and Philip didn't know what to say to make things better for
her.  He hadn't seen the harm in letting her see the scar,
but now it looked like that had been a mistake.
 
     "That man shouldn't have hurt you!  Would *I* hurt you
if I gave you a hug?" Cassie asked.  Philip didn't even stop
to think about it. . .he shook his head.  Cassie slipped her
arms around his waist, resting her head against his chest.
Her embrace should have sent shockwaves of pain through
Philip's body, but the most he felt was a twinge.  Cassie
mumbled, "I wish I could make you all better.  Maybe if you
were all better, Lissa wouldn't be so sad.  Mummy says that
Lissa worries about you all the time."
                                                           
     Awkwardly, Philip stroked her hair with his good hand
and replied, "Lissa worries, even when everyone is okay.  You
shouldn't worry so much, Cassie. . .pretty girls should
smile, instead of frown.  And you're a very pretty girl."  It
was something he had always wanted to tell Lissa, but could
never say. . .for a variety of reasons.
 
     That brilliant smile which Cassie had inherited from her
mother flashed across her face, and the little girl said, "I
love you, Philip!"  She kissed his cheek and released him,
then bounded off the bed.  As she ran to the door, she called
over her shoulder, "I'll be back, I'm gonna get you some
cookies!"  Then she was gone.
 
     Nick shook his head in disbelief, asking, "Was Lissa
anything like that little whirlwind when you were kids?
Aside from enticing you into playing monkeys on the bed?"
Philip smiled at the memory of he and Lissa jumping up and
down on the bed with gleeful abandon, then he looked at Nick
quickly.  How his friend found out about that?  Nick laughed
a bit sheepishly and admitted, "That's a long story."
 
     "We have plenty of time, Nick. . .I want t' know how you
found out about our favorite game when we were kids," Philip
replied.  Nick grinned, his eyes all but disappearing, and
the young priest knew his friend would be all right.
 
     .                        .                        .
  
     Alex was another story. . .she was definitely all right.
She had been trying to read the crime reports for the year
1962, hoping to find a clue about Lucinda Hadley's death, but
she couldn't concentrate.  All she could think of was her
former roommate, and those damn letters.
                                                           
     But the letters weren't to blame for what was done to
Lissa. . .there was only one person responsible for the hell
her ex-roomie had suffered, and that was William Reynolds.
That didn't prevent Alex from being furious with Rachel for
forcing the issue.  Lissa hadn't been ready to tell the
others about the rape. . .and Rachel forced her hand.
 
     Still, being angry with the doctor would accomplish
nothing.  It wouldn't help Lissa, nor would it give Alex any
clues about Lucinda Hadley.  There was no mention of
relatives in her obituary.  Alex rubbed her temples and
muttered, "Enough of this.  I need a break before I do some
more or less permanent damage to myself and the computer.
Duncan said something about chocolate chip cookies. . .wonder
if any are left?"  Only one way to find out. . .she rose to
her feet and went to the kitchen.
  
     .                        .                        .
  
     Lissa hadn't been exaggerating when she mentioned that
Adrian Tyler had a problem with psychiatrists. . .every time
Rachel asked Kendra a question, the doctor started to shift
uneasily.  A look from Lissa usually calmed him down. . .at
least, until Kendra told Rachel about her second dream.
 
     "So, right before you saw the man attacking the girl,
you and your mother were together?  She was teaching you how
to sew?" Rachel inquired.  Kendra bobbed her head, her blue
eyes very wide, and the psychiatrist looked at Lissa.
 
     "My daughter just told you that's what she saw, Dr.
Corrigan!  Kendra was just a baby when her mother was killed,
there is no correlation between Melody's death and these
dreams or visions!" Dr. Tyler exclaimed.
                                                          
     "Let Rachel do her job, Adrian," Lissa said very
quietly.  From the younger woman's expression, Rachel could
tell that Lissa was un-nerved by the mention of Melody in the
dreams as well.  And Adrian's overprotective attitude wasn't
helping.  If they wanted to get to the bottom of this, it was
absolutely essential for Kendra, and Adrian, to cooperate.
 
      .                        .                        .
  
     In the kitchen of Derek's house, Cassie was carefully
placing chocolate chip cookies on a platter to take upstairs
to Philip.  Duncan was watching over her, and several times,
Cassie saw an approving smile cross the butler's face.  At
home, they didn't have a butler and when Cassie first arrived
here with her mum, she asked Duncan what a butler did.
 
     He responded that he took care of the house for Dr.
Rayne (that was Derek), and looked after everyone in the
house. . .including Master Nick, Miss Alex, Father Philip,
and Miss Elizabeth.  When Dr. Corrigan and her daughter were
here, he took care of Dr. Corrigan and Miss Kat.
 
     Cassie thought it was really neat, how he called Lissa
'Miss Elizabeth.'  She knew that 'Elizabeth' was Lissa's real
first name. . .Cassie's real first name was 'Fiona,' after
her mummy's oldest sister and Lissa's mummy.  She still
didn't know where 'Cassandra' came from.  Her mummy had never
told her that.  She asked as Alex joined them, "Duncan, how
come you call Philip 'Father,' when he doesn't have kids?"
 
     "That's his title, sweetheart. . .Philip is a priest, so
some people call him 'Father Philip' or 'Father Callaghan.'
You didn't know that's Philip's last name, did you?" Alex
asked and Cassie shook her head.
                                                          
     "That's a nice name!  It kinda rhymes, doesn't it?"
Cassie asked and Alex nodded.  The little girl continued
after a moment, "So how come his title is 'Father,' Alex?
Is that like saying 'Dr. Rachel,' when I'm talking to Dr.
Rachel?  But she's a doctor, and he's not a father."
 
     "Well, a long time ago, someone decided that priests
were like fathers. . .they took care of you and guided you
and tried to help you decide right from wrong.  So, all
Catholic priests are called 'Father,' even when the priest is
younger than the parishioner," Alex replied.
 
     "Oh.  That makes sense.  I guess," Cassie replied,
frowning.  After a moment, she asked, "But it's okay if I
just call him 'Philip,' Alex?"  Alex nodded with a smile and
Cassie relaxed, turning her attention back to the chocolate
chip cookies which were Philip's treat.  There were times
when she didn't think she would ever understand adults.  They
could be really silly sometimes.ided you
and tried to help you decide right from wrong.  So, all
Catholic priests are called 'Father,' even when the priest is
younger than the parishioner," Alex replied.

     "Let Rachel do her job," Lissa repeated quietly at the
Tyler house, putting her hand on Adrian's shoulder.  Rachel
looked from the child to the father, who looked far more
tense than Kendra, although his anxiety was clearly
communicating itself to the teenager.  Lissa glanced at
Kendra, then added, "Let's go for a walk, Adri.  You're
upsetting Kendra a lot more than Rachel is."
 
     "I'll be okay, Dad," Kendra said, nodding.  Lissa winked
at the girl, then led the reluctant physician from the room.
Kendra looked back at Rachel, then asked, "Detective Rayne's
dad. . .is he as bad as mine is?  You know, treating her like
a baby?"  Rachel struggled against her smile.
 
     "Well. . .he doesn't treat her like a baby, but he is
very protective of her," the psychiatrist replied.  And
well he should be!  Rachel continued, "Tell me more about
your dream.  You said that she was teaching you to sew. . .do
you find anything strange about this in your dream?"  Kendra
nodded, her face very serious.
 
     "In my dream, Dr. Corrigan, I know that Mom is dead.
But she came back to me, and she's teaching me to sew.  But I
know that she can't really come back from the dead," the
teenager said.  Rachel shuddered, remembering how she had
once thought Patrick had come back to her, but said nothing.
 
      .                        .                        .
  
     After Lissa and Rachel left for Adrian Tyler's house to
interview young Kendra Tyler, Molly allowed some time to pass
before going upstairs to Philip's bedroom.  She knew he was
probably furious with her because of her arguments with
Rachel Corrigan, and she wanted to make peace.
                                                           
     He was sleeping, pillows cushioning him on either side.
Molly smiled to herself, then started to tiptoe from the
room, but Philip mumbled, "I'm not asleep."  Molly turned
back guiltily and the young man murmured, "One thin' I hate
about this. . .bein' so bloody tired all the time."
 
     "You suffered internal injuries, Philip, and you had
bleeding inside.  That weakens a person.  I guess you'll just
have to stay away from baseball bat-wielding demons in the
future, huh?  'Cause I don't think I can handle any more
phone calls like the one I got from Alex," Molly replied.
 
     "I'll try t' remember that," Philip answered drily,
"especially if you promise t' put your problem wi' Rachel
aside for the rest of your visit.  If you love Lissa, then
please. . .stop antagonizin' Rachel.  Let us deal wi' her."
Molly put her hand on his forearm, and Philip cried out in
pain.  He closed his eyes, trembling, and for the first time,
the linguist realized that she had touched his broken arm.
If he could have curled up into a little ball without
injuring himself further, Molly was sure he would have.
 
     "Oh sweet heaven, I am sorry!" she gasped and sat down
on the bed beside him, trying to ease his pain.  Each ragged
gasp of breath he drew was a knife in her heart.  Twice
within the last few hours, an action of hers had resulted in
harm to someone she loved.  Molly whispered, "Philip, honey,
I am so sorry!  I didn't mean to hurt you!"
 
     At last, he whispered, "It's all right. . .I'm all
right.  I don't know what I hate more. . .bein' so tired all
the time, or the pain.  I never was very good at dealin' wi'
pain, remember?  Grandmother Ryan always used t' say that I
was terrible about that."  Predictably, rage surged through
Molly at the mention of Philip's maternal grandmother.
 
     "That bitch didn't deserve the term 'grandmother,'
Philip.  You deal with the pain however you can.  Maybe it's
not the way Nick would, but at least you don't go lashing out
at people for no reason!" Molly retorted.
                                                            
     Philip just closed his eyes, evidently exhausted by the
discussion, and Molly asked quietly, "So tell me. . .how did
you convince Lissa that her reasons for giving up her career
didn't matter to you?  I know that you know the truth,
Philip. . .I know that you know how she feels about you."
 
     Unexpectedly, a tired smile lit Philip's face as he
opened his eyes and replied, "She thinks that I don't know.
And that is how it must be, Molly.  She must believe that I
have no idea of her true feelin's."  Molly looked at the
young man, stunned by his answer.
 
     "You. . .you're actually keeping something from Lissa
successfully?  Philip, most of the time, you can't hide
ANYTHING from my niece!  Why did she believe you this one
particular time?" the woman asked and Philip smiled ruefully.
Despite her words, however, Molly wasn't angry with the young
priest. . .if anything, she was pleased.
 
     "I think she wanted t' believe me, Molly. . .and she has
too many other thin's t' concern her at the moment.  The
consequences of her choice, her concern for Sandy's marriage,
your battles wi' Rachel, her anxiety about Cassie.  Yes, I
know that Sandy's marriage is on the rocks. . .Nick told me
while Lissa was in the precinct," Philip replied.  Molly
considered his words. . .he was probably right.
 
     .                        .                        .
 
     After munching on a few chocolate chip cookies which
Cassie had left and listening to the little girl's chattter,
Alex finally excused herself reluctantly and went back to
work in the control room.  She had a few phone calls to make,
starting with the newspaper carrying Lucinda's obit.
                                                            
     If nothing panned out with the paper, Alex would turn
her attention to the churches.  She had learned from her
conversations with Philip that most churches kept birth and
death records.  Alex hoped that by utilizing parish and
congregation records, she would finally find Lucinda Hadley's
next of kin and perhaps, even her cause of death.
 
      .                        .                        .
  
     "I don't like it. . .dammit, Lis, you know how I feel
about shrinks!  And I told you, Melody's death has nothing to
do with this situation!  Why is that woman asking about
Melody?" Adrian stormed, pacing back and forth in his
backyard.  Lissa sat on the backporch steps, watching him
pace with equal parts amusement and frustration.
 
     "Because your daughter dreamed about your wife just
before she had the vision of the second attack, that's why.
Adrian, do you want Kendra to be terrorized like this?" Lissa
asked.  Adrian turned to face her, his eyes blazing, and the
ex-cop added, "I didn't think so.  Chill."
 
     "You wouldn't be so cavalier if that was your daughter,
Lissa!  You don't have any kids, so you have no right to tell
me how to raise mine!" Adrian blurted out.  Lissa froze,
ceasing her dust drawings.  She slowly pushed herself to her
feet, walking down the steps to stare into Adrian's eyes.
 
     "If you have a brain, Adrian," she said very, very
quietly, "you will never say something as stupid as that
again.  For your information, you moron, I do have a child.
I have a six year old daughter named Cassie who is being
raised by my aunt.  I didn't want to subject my daughter to
my step-father's crap.  Are we clear on that?"
                                                           
     Adrian's face was ashen, but he managed to reply, "Yes."
Lissa nodded and turned her back on him, walking back to her
seat on the porch step.  She shivered slightly. . .it was
particularly cool here in the shade.  Adrian continued
softly, "Lissa. . .I'm so sorry.  I never knew."
 
     "That's right," she said as she sat down, "you didn't
know.  And to answer your question, the situations are
different.  My daughter comes from a line of psychics. . .my
father is psychic, my mother was psychic.  We know how to
deal with Visions. . .you don't."
 
     Adrian looked away and Lissa continued after taking a
deep breath, "And quite frankly, I'm as troubled by the
dreams of her mother leading to the Vision of this woman as
Rachel is.  There is a link there, Adrian, and we have to
find out what it is if we want to help Kendra.  Sticking your
head in the sand and pretending that a problem doesn't exist
won't solve a damn thing, Adrian.  You're a doctor, you
should know that by now!"
 
     Adrian nodded, still looking shame-faced, and Lissa
added, "Now, quit being such a jerk and let us do what we
were trained for.  I would never let anyone hurt Kendra, and
I thought you knew that."  That exhausted some of her anger
with Rachel, and Lissa subsided, closing her eyes.
 
     .                        .                        .
  
     Robert Cardinal Arrana had convinced Father Luke Quinlan
to spend as much time with the boys in the parish as he saw
fit. . .the teens were restless and worried about Philip.
Not that Robert blamed them. . .they had come dangerously
close to losing a bright young priest.

     It wasn't just the teens who had missed Philip, either.
The entire parish felt empty without the gentle young man who
had touched so many lives with his warmth and simple acts of
kindness.  At the same time, Robert knew that recuperating in
Derek Rayne's home was the best thing for the boy. . .he
would never get the rest necessary to heal here.
 
     Something which the fool Douglas didn't seem to
understand.  Robert silently vowed to keep an eye on the
bishop, who seemed determined to run Philip's life for him.
Philip was a priest of the Church, yes. . .but Robert had
always believed that each priest had to find their own way.
 
     Robert was particularly concerned about the bishop's
growing hatred of Lissa Rayne.  The girl would never do
anything to jeopardize Philip's future in the priesthood,

Robert was certain of that. . .she was nothing like the self-
absorbed Ellen, who had taken her own life to punish the
newly-ordained Philip.  But if the bishop threatened Philip
in any way, Robert knew Lissa Rayne would act.
 
     His musing were interrupted by the telephone ringing,
and Robert answered it, saying, "St. Bartholomew's Church,
how may I help you?"  In his early days as a priest, Robert's
own duties had been much like Philip's. . .spending time with
the kids, answering the phone when no one else was around.
It was an easy habit to fall back into.
 
     A feminine voice said, "Hi, this is Alex Moreau from the
Luna Foundation.  I was hoping you could help me locate a
woman. . .I've called every church in town, and you're my
last hope."  Robert cocked his head to one side.  Alex
Moreau?  He had heard Philip speak of her!
 
     "Miss Moreau, this is Cardinal Arrana. . .it's a
pleasure to speak with you.  Exactly whom are you trying to
locate?  And why are you calling churches?" Robert asked.
There was a stunned silence on the other end, and he could
almost hear Alex Moreau's thoughts. . .I treated a cardinal
like a clerk?  Oh, Philip is going to KILL me!
                                                            
     However, the young woman said smoothly, "Cardinal
Arrana, it's a pleasure to speak with you.  I found an
obituary for a woman named 'Lucinda Hadley.' She died in 1962
at the age of thirty, but the obit lists no family or any
information of that sort.  I called the newspaper office, but
nothing panned out.  I was hoping a church in the area could
help."  Robert frowned.  The name sounded familiar. . .
 
     "I've heard that name before, Miss Moreau. . .'Lucinda
Hadley.  Could you give me a description of this young woman?
Of course you can't, I'm sorry. . .if you don't have any
pertinent information, you wouldn't know what she looked like
either," Robert said, shaking his head in self-disgust.
 
     There was a rustle of paper, then the young woman said,
"Actually, I do have a sketch.  She has. . .had. . .long
blonde hair, bright blue eyes, with dark brows.  A very, very
pretty woman, I must say."  Robert's heart did a nose-dive.
Oh yes. . .after hearing that description, he was certain.
He knew the woman in question.
 
     He said huskily, "Lucinda Hadley. . .yes, I knew her,
Miss Moreau.  She was a parishioner at St. Bart's, and a
beautiful woman, both inside and out.  I gave her Last Rites
the year after I was ordained as a priest. . .she died in
childbirth.  It was a terrible tragedy, but at least her
sister was able to keep Lucinda's son."
 
     There was a stunned silence on the other end, then the
woman asked, "She had a child?  A son?"  Again, Robert could
hear rustling on the other end of the line, and it gave him
time to think.  He had learned nothing in the confessional.
Did that give him the right to tell this woman what he knew?
 
     After a moment, he decided to trust his instincts.  The
cardinal replied, "Yes, Miss Moreau.  It's not exactly common
knowledge, but Lucinda's younger sister and her husband
raised Lucinda's son, Adrian.  Susannah had just married
Nathan Tyler a few months earlier. . .otherwise, I doubt if
she would have been allowed to keep Adrian."
                                                            
     Miss Moreau asked, her voice sounding very strange, "So
Adrian Tyler, Dr. Adrian Tyler, is Lucinda Hadley's son?
What about the father?  Or any other brothers or sisters?  Do
you have any records concerning them?"  Robert frowned at the
tone in the young woman's voice.
 
     However, he replied, "I'm afraid not, Miss Moreau. . .
Lucinda never told me who had sired her child, but I have a
bad feeling that she was forced.  I have no logical reason
for suspecting rape, but I believe that's what happened.  She
planned to keep Adrian and raise him herself."
 
     He paused, then added, "However, I can look through the
parish birth records, and see if Adrian's birth certificate
is on file.  That might take me a few hours, at best, since
our records are a little out of order at the moment.  Would
that be acceptable, Miss Moreau?"
 
     "Quite acceptable, Cardinal Arrana. . .and thank you so
much for your help.  The information you've just given me
will most likely help the Luna Foundation immeasurably.  Is
there a message you'd like me to pass along to Philip?" Miss
Moreau asked, her voice sounding a little less uneven.
 
     Robert smiled and answered, "Tell him to take it easy.
We need him greatly, but we need him strong and healthy.  No
more collapsing in pain because he's trying to mediate a
fight between teenagers.  If you have to, get that spitfire
young detective to help you out. . .I don't think Philip
would dare argue with her, about anything!"
 
     Miss Moreau laughed and answered, "Not usually. . .
Philip knows better than to argue with Lissa when she's
really determined.  He just has a really bad habit of pushing
himself too hard, then pays a high price."
 
     Robert chuckled. . .the lady knew Philip very well.  He
said, "Then I will trust him to your. . .and Detective
Rayne's. . .very capable hands.  Good luck, Miss Moreau, and
I'll call you when I have more information."
                                                           
     "That would be appreciated. . .thank you.  G'bye," Alex
Moreau replied and the line went dead.  Robert smiled and
hung up the phone.  He turned to the filing cabinets which
stood in one corner of the room.  We really need to get
this information on the computer, he thought, we're
almost to the twenty-first century!
 
      .                        .                        .
 
     Alex hung up the phone. . .talk about pay-dirt!  She was
still reeling from the information which the cardinal had
just given her.  Nick entered the control room, saying,
"Derek has closed himself in his office, Alex, and I. . .
Alex?  Alex, are you all right?"
 
     The young woman raised her eyes slowly to Nick's worried
face and replied, "I hit paydirt with the Lucinda Hadley
obit."  Nick's eyes widened and Alex continued, "I just
finished speaking with Robert Cardinal Arrana at St.  Bart's.
Lucinda Hadley was a parishioner more than thirty years ago."
Nick's eyes widened further and Alex nodded.
 
     "What did he tell you?  Does he remember her very well?
Does he know how she died, or if she has any family
remaining?" the ex-SEAL asked, the words tumbling out of his
mouth.  Alex smiled, allowing Nick to get the words out of
his system before she continued.
 
     "He remembers her extremely well as a beautiful woman
with a good heart.  She died in childbirth, not as a result
of a rape, although the cardinal did think that her pregnancy
was the result of a rape.  And get this, Nick," Alex said,
leaning forward in her chair, "Lucinda's son is one Adrian
Tyler."  Nick stared at her, then his jaw dropped.
                                                          
     "Holy. . .so Kendra Tyler is Lucinda's granddaughter?
Shit!  No wonder the kid has been having these Visions!  Now,
all we have to do is figure out a way to stop her before she
kills again," Nick said.  However, his green eyes were
flashing dangerously, and Alex recognized the warning signs.
 
     "Nick, we do have to stop her. . .if she kills again,
the next victim may be an innocent man whose actions Lucinda
misinterpreted.  Or because he reminds her of the father of
her child.  Nick, remember. . .we almost lost Philip because
he was a priest, and a priest killed Senephra," Alex reminded
her friend and Nick nodded, his mouth tightening.
 
     "Yeah, I remember.  Okay. . .you haven't had a chance to
tell Lissa, have you?" he asked and Alex shook her head.  No,
she had barely had a chance to breathe after concluding her
conversation with the cardinal.  Nick continued, "Didn't
think so. . .we should probably contact her.  I. . .I suppose
I should tell Derek, but you know what he's like when he
shuts himself in his office."
 
     "Hmm. . .just figure out which is scarier.  Derek if you
interrupt him in his office, or Derek if you don't interrupt
him to tell him what's going on.  Good luck," Alex replied.
She was already dialing the number for Lissa's cell phone.
Nick rolled his eyes and left the room.
 
      .                        .                        .
  
     After admitting to himself that he could have protected
his only child from a rapist, Derek had hoped to get some
work down.  But he could only stare at the picture of his
daughter which sat on his desk. . .and slowly, the guilt
turned to rage against William Reynolds.

     He closed his eyes, willing the rage back. . .there was
nothing her could do for Lissa now.  She had survived both
attacks, she hadn't allowed that man to destroy her life.
She would be all right.  But it wasn't enough for Derek.  He
wanted to make William Reynolds pay for hurting his only
child.  He wanted that monster to *suffer.*
 
     Unbidden, an image appeared in his mind. . .Lissa at the
House for Philip's twelfth birthday.  Derek smiled in spite
of himself, seeing Lissa's glee at every gift her best friend
received.  Never mind that she hadn't received any gifts,
never mind that it wasn't her birthday. . .she took such
delight in the gifts which Philip had received.
 
     And then he thought of her, trembling in her bed after
Reynolds raped her the first time, and Derek's fury finally
exploded.  With a snarl, he knocked a stack of papers of the
desk, and unreasonably, the mess made him angrier.  He lost
all sense of himself as he began ripping apart his office.
He knocked over things, hit the wall, threw around furniture,
but nothing eased the rage in his soul.
 
      .                        .                        .
 
     At last, Rachel finished questioning Kendra about her
dreams, about the sequence of events in her dreams, and about
the woman whom Kendra called 'the angel of death.'  If she
hadn't been convinced earlier, she was now. . .Lucinda Hadley
was a restless spirit, seeking either vengeance or peace.
 
     As Rachel rose to her feet, Lissa entered the living
room with Adrian.  The younger woman's face was tight with
concern, and Rachel said, turning to Kendra, "Thanks for your
help, honey, I really appreciate it."
                                                          
     "You're welcome, Dr. Corrigan. . .do you think the
dreams will come back?" Kendra asked, worried.  Rachel
started to speak, then looked at Lissa.  She had no idea how
to answer the young girl's question, and the ex-detective
forced a smile.  What's going on?
 
     "Sweetheart, we're going to try to make sure the dreams
don't come back.  Adrian. . .thanks for confirming that
information," Lissa replied.  Rachel looked at the doctor,
who looked just as shocked as Lissa, but before she could ask
what had happened, Lissa continued, "Kendra, I'm counting on
you to take care of your father. . .Dr. Corrigan and I need
to head back to the Foundation."
 
     "Sure thing, Detective Rayne. . .tell Father Philip I
said hello!" Kendra replied.  She was smiling, but the girl
had obviously picked up on the strained atmosphere.  Even
Rachel could sense the tension, and she wasn't psychic.  She
touched Kendra's cheek, then followed Lissa from the house.
To be safe, she was silent until they reached the car.
 
     Then she asked, "Lissa, what happened?  I heard your
cell phone ring outside, did Alex find out something about
Lucinda Hadley?"  Lissa nodded without speaking as she
started the car.  As usual, the engine was sluggish and
Rachel smacked the dashboard.  The engine roared to life.
 
     For the first time, Lissa smiled and said, "Thanks.
Yeah, that was Alex on the phone a few minutes ago. . .she
hit the jackpot.  Adrian knows about this. . .he's trying to
think of a way to break the news to Kendra."  Rachel looked
at the younger woman in concern, and Lissa continued,
"Rachel, Lucinda Hadley is Adrian's birth mother."
 
     It took about a moment for the words to sink in, then
Rachel gaped at her companion, blurting out, "Say what?  You
didn't say what I think you just said, did you?  Lucinda is
Adrian's mother. . .and Kendra's grandmother?"  Lissa nodded
grimly and Rachel murmured, "Oh my God.  That's why Kendra
has been having these Visions!"

     "It also explains why Kendra kept seeing her mother's
image in her dreams. . .in a sense, Lucinda is her mother,
she is the mother of Kendra's father.  I don't know if
sewing is a symbol for anything in psychiatry, but. . ."
Lissa replied, shrugging as she turned off Adrian's street.
 
     "Well, if you think about it, it makes sense," Rachel
commented, "sewing has been a source of mother-daughter
bonding for. . .well, a long time.  And without realizing it,
Lucinda was bonding with her granddaughter through Kendra's
dreams.  I wonder if she 'awakened' because of the threat to
Kendra at the prison?"
 
     Lissa sighed and answered, "It's entirely possible,
Rachel.  In all honesty, I don't think Lucinda even realizes
that Kendra is her granddaughter.  All she knows is that
Kendra was an innocent little girl being threatened.  That
was all she needed to know.  Alex also said that we should
get back to the House pronto. . .Dad is about to have a major
fit.  Think you can handle him?"  Rachel started to reply
'no,' but nodded instead.  She could handle Derek.
 
     .                        .                        .
  
     Nick really hadn't planned on going to Derek's office,
but when Molly came out of Philip's room loaded for bear
because Derek's racket was keeping Philip awake, the ex-SEAL
figured that he should go instead of Molly.  Derek really
wasn't pleased with Lissa's aunt at the moment.
 
     It wasn't until he reached Derek's office and walked in
that he realized that Derek wouldn't be very pleased with
him, either.  He looked around, stunned by the condition of
the room.  It was a disaster area. . .politely speaking.

     "Get. . .out," Derek said, his voice hardly more than a
growl.  Nick stared at the older man, and his blood ran cold
at the look in his mentor's dark hazel eyes.  He had seen
that look only once before, when Randolph Hitchcock brought
the scroll of Cain's confession to the House.  And Nick
remembered, he hadn't been totally honest with Derek.
 
     "I'm going.  We'll just move Philip to another room, so
you don't keep him awake," Nick replied.  He was unprepared
for the flash of rage in Derek's eyes, and barely escaped
into the hall before something hit the wall where he'd been
standing only a few seconds earlier.
 
     Outside, Molly was waiting anxiously and she winced as
something heavy hit the wall.  Nick flinched as well and
Molly said, "He's not taking this very well.  Dammit, when I
get my hands on Rachel Corrigan. . .never mind!  C'mon,
Cassie has said that Philip can use her room.  Duncan is
keeping her downstairs, so Derek can get rid of that anger."
Nick nodded, still shaken by the look in his friend's eyes,
then they went to Philip's room.
 
     .                        .                        .

     After picking up Kat at school, Lissa and Rachel headed
back to the House.  Out of consideration for Kat, Lissa and
Rachel didn't discuss the case, or the revelation about
Cassie, or even Derek's loss of temper.  However, Lissa knew
that Kat could sense something was very wrong.
 
     For that reason, she said lightly, "Kat, honey, there
was a misunderstanding today at the House.  It's nothing to
worry about, but you know how adults can take a long time to
calm down sometimes.  That's all that's wrong."

     Kat immediately looked relieved, and she said, "Oh,
okay.  Lissa, how come adults are so weird sometimes?  I
mean, Nick and Philip are my friends, and they're friends,
but how come they act so strange?"  Lissa looked at Kat's
mother, who was barely suppressing her smile.
 
     Thanks a lot, Rachel, Lissa thought, but replied
patiently, "Because sometimes, Kat, adults. . .especially
men. . .have a very hard time admitting how they feel about
something, good or bad.  Whether he will say it out loud or
not, Nick loves Philip very much and sometimes, you get angry
with the people you love.  I know, it makes no sense
whatsoever, hon, but it happens."
 
     "Lissa, why can't Nick tell Philip?  He tells me all the
time," Kat commented.  Lissa glanced at Rachel out of the
corner of her eye, and the psychiatrist just looked amused.
Lissa rolled her eyes, but refrained from doing anything
else.  She needed both of her hands on the wheel.
 
     "Because that's how men are taught, baby," Rachel
answered, and Lissa smiled gratefully at the other woman.
The psychiatrist nodded in acknowledgment, and continued,
"They think it's sissy or wrong to admit how much they care.
Nick hugs you or me or Alex or Lissa when he wants us to know
that he loves us. . .but he shows affection to both Derek and
Philip by lightly slapping their arms."
 
     Kat was silent for several moments, then she said,
shaking her head, "I still think that's silly.  Men can be
really goofy, can't they?"  Lissa and Rachel both nodded,
each trying very hard not to smile.  At just nine years of
age, Kat had already learned her first lesson about men.
 
     She's a step or two ahead of me, Lissa thought,
I'm almost twenty years older than she is, and I still have
a lot to learn about the male population! Still. . .Kat was
headed in the right direction, and she was a smart little
girl.  She had three wonderful males in her life, which gave
her another edge, an edge Lissa had lacked for many years.

     "That they can, m'dear, that they can.  And sweetheart,
here's something else you should know.  Just when you think a
man is actually behaving like a rational person should, he
does something to remind you what a goof he is," Lissa
replied.  By now, Rachel was huddled down in her seat,
laughing helplessly.  Lissa winked at the older woman, the
rift between them almost totally healed.

 
     "Mom, is that true?  Mom?" Kat asked curiously and
Rachel leaned over enough for Kat to see her nodding.  The
little girl shook her head and said, "So how come Nick and
Philip and Derek aren't like that, Lissa?  How come they only
act goofy sometimes?"
 
     "They act goofy a lot more than you think, honey. . .a
lot more than you think," Rachel replied once she had her
laughter under control.  Lissa grinned at her companion, and
Rachel changed the subject, saying, "But that's enough of
that.  Now tell us, Katherine, what did you learn in school
today?"  The memories of her mother stirred by that question
only hurt a little for Lissa. . .she had made her peace.
 
      .                        .                        .
  
     While Lissa Rayne had made peace with her mother, Adrian
Tyler was still trying to accept the revelation about his
own.  He had known that Susannah Hadley Tyler wasn't his
birth mother. . .and he had known that she was his aunt.  But
he hadn't known that she was his aunt by blood.
 
     It had always been Adrian's understanding that Nathan
Tyler, his adoptive father, had a younger sister who
foolishly got herself into trouble. . .when she realized she
couldn't care for her son, she gave Adrian to her brother.
                                                            
     Now, as Adrian quietly explained what he knew to his
daughter, he found himself wondering if there was any other
information which his aunt and uncle had neglected to tell
him.  Kendra asked, drawing his attention back to her, "So,
the lady in my dreams. . .the angel of death. . .she's really
my grandmother?  And she killed that man because he scared
me while we were on the field trip?"  Adrian nodded.
 
     "Yes, sweetheart.  Lissa and the others are going to try
to find a way so Lucinda can rest in peace, and you don't
have to be afraid anymore.  Are you okay?" he asked and
Kendra nodded.  Adrian kissed his daughter's forehead and
said, "I need to call. . .I need to make some calls.  I'll
yell for you when it's time for dinner, okay, baby?"  The
girl nodded and hugged Adrian, then went outside.  Adrian
walked to the phone.  He had questions that needed to be
answered. . .and answered now.

     As soon as Lissa, Rachel, and Kat got back to the House,
Kat was sent to play with Cassie.  Lissa started to head for
Philip's room, but a crash stopped her dead in her tracks.
Aunt Molly emerged from the opposite end of the hall, where
Cassie was sleeping, and Lissa joined her aunt.  The older
woman said, "Philip is in here. . .Derek was making too much
noise for him to get any sleep."
 
     "I'll see to Derek. . .you take care of Philip, Lissa,"
Rachel said quietly.  Lissa nodded and Aunt Molly, for once,
made no smart-ass, sarcastic remark.  Instead, she put her
arm around Lissa's shoulders and led her into Cassie's room.
Philip lay on his back, sleeping.  As usually, pillows
surrounded him, making him as comfortable as possible.
Dangerously close to losing control of her emotions, Lissa
went to the side of his bed and sat down.
 
     "How long has he been asleep?" she asked quietly and her
aunt sank to her knees beside the bed.  Aunt Molly looked
exhausted as well, and Lissa took the hand that rested on her
knee.  She said quietly, "This has been hell for you, too.
I'm sorry.  I should have been more sensitive to that."
 
     "Now you're being silly, Lissa Marie.  You've just had
to tell your father that you were raped not once, but twice,
by your step-father, a man whom Derek hated with every fiber
of his being.  You had to tell him that you have little girl
from that rape, a child whom he is rather quickly falling in
love with, the way he once fell in love with you.  Your best
friend is still recovering from his near-fatal injuries. . .
you have enough to deal with," her aunt replied.
 
     Lissa smiled faintly and replied, "It's been a helluva
day, hasn't it, Aunt Molly?  You could have told me about
Father Gabe and Avram earlier. . .I'm stronger than I
appear."  Aunt Molly laughed softly, resting her cheek on
Lissa's hand, and the younger woman continued, "You said they
were killed.  What is Legacy business?"  Her aunt raised her
head to look at Lissa, and the expression the ex-cop saw
there was something of a mystery.
                                                            
     However, Aunt Molly replied quietly, "Not Legacy
business, sweetheart. . .they were killed in a car accident.
I'd been telling Gabe to do something about his brakes for
months. . .the damn things finally failed, and they were both
killed instantly."  Lissa cocked her head to one side.
 
     "Are you sure the brake line wasn't cut, Aunt Molly?
Maybe I was a cop for too long and maybe I'm suspicious by
nature, but are you sure it was just wear and tear?" the ex-
detective asked.  Aunt Molly just laughed very softly and
patted Lissa's hand, as she would have patted Cassie's hand.
 
     "You probably were a cop for too long, Lissa, but I
expect you to cover all your bases.  No, honey. . .it was
wear and tear.  I had it checked out myself.  I have the
letter from Father Gabe in my suitcase. . .I'll give it to
you later.  He wrote it about a month ago or so. . .told me
to give to you in the event of his death.  He was never happy
about you living out here in San Francisco, and he never had
much use for Sebastian Douglas," her aunt replied.
 
     "Join the club," Lissa muttered and Aunt Molly smiled
sadly.  The ex-cop looked back at Philip, murmuring, "So help
me, God. . .if that man ever does anything to hurt Philip,
Aunt Molly, I swear I will make him wish he'd never been
born!"  Her aunt just nodded and both women fell silent.
 
      .                        .                        .
  
     Rachel wished she had silence. . .even before she
reached Derek's office, she could hear things hitting the
wall and his incoherent cries of rage.  On the way upstairs,
Nick had filled her in on what had happened earlier.  Rachel
shuddered.  Derek scared her when he was like this.
                                                            
     Nick had only been respecting Lissa's wishes. . .and not
many men had done that for the poor girl in her life.  Still,
Rachel had only to imagine Kat being harmed like that, and
she could almost understand Derek's fury with Nick.  Almost.
Until today, Nick only knew part of the story.
 
     As Rachel waited outside Derek's office for the storm to
abate, she reflected that the only people who had known the
entire truth were Lissa and Molly.  Lissa wasn't ready to
talk about it, and Molly would defend, to the death if
necessary, her niece's right to keep such things private.
 
     At last, there had been silence within Derek's office
for several moments and Rachel walked inside quickly.  At
first, she didn't see Derek. . .she was too stunned by the
carnage in the room.  This bore little resemblance to the
orderly, neat office she had visited only a few hours
earlier, searching for her precept.
 
     And then she saw Derek.  Tears streaked his face and he
had seemed to have aged ten years in the last few hours.  He
looked at her and whispered, "He raped her, Rachel.  That
bastard Reynolds raped my little girl.  I should have been
there. . .I should have protected her."  Rachel crossed to
his side and sank to her knees beside him.  She said nothing,
just let him sob out his guilt and grief.
 
      .                        .                        .
  
     It had been a long time since Lucinda felt the
summoning.  According to the rise and fall of the sun, at
least a day had passed since the last time she was called to
protect an innocent.  Lucinda felt both disappointed and
pleased by this fact, though she didn't understand that.
                                                           
     There were still so many things she didn't understand.
She only partially understood why she was here, but she still
didn't know why she had returned when she did.  And what she
saw before her made her forget all of her questions. . .a
young woman was pinned to the ground by a man.  He pressed
her wrists to the ground, straddling her.
 
     Lucinda felt nauseous suddenly, then the nausea turned
to fury.  With all of her rage, she concentrated on the man
and he rolled off the woman, moaning in agonizing pain.  But
something went wrong.  Instead of the woman running away, she
ran *to* her attacker, crying out, "What is it?  What's
wrong, oh God, someone help!"
 
     Lucinda waited for the girl to acknowledge her, but it
didn't happen.  All of her attention was on the man, on the
man who had been attacking her.  Frightened and confused
herself, Lucinda drifted away.  Why had she thought the man
was attacking the woman?  And then the memory returned in
full force, like a hammer blow to the chest. . .
 
     She had been helping young Father Robert clean up after
the annual Thanksgiving dinner.  None of the other
parishioners would help the new priest because he was black,
but Lucinda Hadley had no such qualms about helping a Negro.
The young black priest was just as much of a human being as
the rest of the parish, and Lucinda liked him.
 
     The young man had carried the last of the dishes into
the kitchen when it happened.  One minute, Lucinda was wiping
down a table cloth. . .the next, she was on her back, pinned
to the ground by a man.  Lucinda closed her eyes, sobbing, as
the memory of the rape returned to her.
 
     She had staggered home, still sobbing, and it was on the
front porch that her older brother Paul had found her.  Her
clothes were torn under the trenchcoat which she had worn to
the dinner, her face bruised.  Paul had carried her into the
house and it was there that she had told him about the rape,
sobbing over and over that it hadn't been her fault.
                                                            
     Now, thirty-five years later, Lucinda recalled the
terror, the pain. . .the shame. . .with a clarity that left
her dizzy.  She wept, curling up into a little ball.  For
though she couldn't remember the face of the man who had
raped her, she did remember that it was someone she had
trusted with her life. . .with her very soul.
 
     .                        .                        .
  
     At last, the storm had passed and Derek asked hoarsely,
"Where is Lissa?"  Rachel inclined her head in the general
direction of Cassie's room, and he continued, "She's with
Cassie. . .with my granddaughter?"  He had to consciously
remind himself that Cassie was Lissa's daughter, rather than
her cousin.  It would take some time.
 
     "No, the girls are outside playing.  She's with Philip.
Nick and Molly put him in Cassie's room," Rachel replied.
Derek frowned, then remembered Nick coming into the room and
saying something about moving Philip, because he couldn't
sleep.  Damn!  Philip did nothing to deserve that!
 
     "I didn't hurt Nick, did I?" Derek asked and Rachel
shook her head.  He closed his eyes, sighing. . .God, but he
was so tired.  After a moment, he opened his eyes once more
and looked at Rachel, asking, "What did you and Lissa find
out at Adrian Tyler's house?"
 
     "It's not what we found out. . .it's what Alex learned
from Cardinal Arrana," Rachel answered quietly.  Derek
frowned, and the psychiatrist continued, "In a telephone
conversation with Cardinal Arrana, Alex found out that Adrian
Tyler is the son of Lucinda Hadley.  She died in childbirth
some thirty-four years ago."

     "My Gott," Derek whispered, "and she returned when her
granddaughter was threatened in the prison.  It all makes
sense, Rachel!  But if she died during childbirth, instead of
as a result of a rape. . .why has she been attacking these
men?"  Rachel shrugged, helping him to his feet.
 
     "I don't know.  According to Alex, the cardinal suspects
that Lucinda was raped, but she never told him what had
happened.  Derek. . .are you all right?" she asked.  Derek
sighed, running his hand over his face.  In all honesty, he
wasn't certain, but that was irrelevant.
 
     "I'll be fine.  I need to see to my daughter right now.
Can I trust you and Molly to behave like adults for the rest
of the night?" Derek asked and Rachel nodded.  He continued,
"Thank you, Rachel.  I appreciate that."
 
     .                        .                        .
  
     Molly sat with her niece and Philip for a while, then
she went downstairs and into the garden where Kat and Cassie
were playing.  The longer Molly was here, the more certain
she was. . .Cassie belonged here, not in Toronto.  Here, she
would have a mother, a grandfather, two uncles, an aunt.
Everything she really needed.
 
     Molly knew that Cassie wouldn't always be her daughter.
The little girl was on loan to her from Lissa, who believed
that she had given up all rights to Cassie six years earlier.
But when I get back to Toronto, when I go home, she
thought, I will have papers drawn up.  If anything happens
to me, custody of my sweet Cassie will return to her
mother.  Molly had outlived her two sisters thus far. . .
but she was sure that wouldn't last.
                                                           
     The Legacy has its share of martyrs, Molly thought,
it sent both of my sisters to an early grave.  I doubt if
I'll escape the curse as well.  But even if I die, Cassie
will be all right.  And while she had promised Lissa they
both would be there when Cassie learned the truth, that was
one promise Molly knew she couldn't keep.
 
      .                        .                        .
  
     Derek found his daughter sleeping in the chair beside
Philip's bed.  He smiled in spite of himself. . .the last of
the tension between them was gone.  Lissa was holding
Philip's hand between her own two.  Derek tried not think
about all the years they had been separated, tried not to
think about what had happened to them both in that time.
 
     "Elizabeth," he whispered and Lissa's eyes slowly
opened.  She smiled up at him sleepily and Derek returned the
smile, kneeling beside her.  He murmured, "I'm sorry I
frightened you, liefje.  That was very foolish of me.  How is
he. . .not in much pain?"  Lissa shook her head.
 
     "He's okay.  So am I.  You're really not angry with me
for not telling you sooner?" she whispered and Derek shook
his head.  No. . .no, he could never be angry with her for
that.  Lissa smiled sleepily and continued, "I was afraid you
would be.  You called me 'liefje.'  What. . .?"
 
     "It's Dutch. . .it means 'sweetheart.'  And I could
never be angry with you, not for that.  Can you ever forgive
me for not protecting you, sweeting?" Derek asked softly.
Lissa's head came up and she stared at him, puzzled.  He
continued, "If I had fought for you, I could have stop him
from hurting you so terribly."
                                                            
     "You don't know that, Dad. . .William Reynolds was a
sick, obsessed, evil bastard.  For all we know, he could have
tracked me down and done whatever, even if you had
successfully gained custody of me.  This is *not* your fault!
I don't blame you, Aunt Molly doesn't blame you, and I'm sure
Mama wouldn't blame you either," Lissa replied.
 
     "I blame me," Derek said quietly and Lissa sighed,
shaking her head.  The precept continued, "Listen to me,
liefje. . .parents do that.  Every time Cassie is hurt, every
time you know that she cries, you hate yourself for not being
there, for not protecting her.  Don't deny that. . .I know
better.  I know *you* better."
 
     Lissa sighed once more and replied, "You're right, of
course.  I. . .you know, Cassie is my one victory over
Reynolds.  The only time I called all of the shots.  Not just
when Nick talked me out of jumping. . .Reynolds never knew
about Cassie.  He never even knew that I was pregnant, Dad.
I guess. . .I guess I was protecting her even before she was
born."  Derek nodded with a tender smile.
 
     "Yes. . .you were.  That's what a mother does.  And, it
seems, that's what Lucinda Hadley has been doing, or trying
to do. . .protect her children.  Tell me what you know,
sweeting," he replied and Lissa nodded.
 
      .                        .                        .
  
     Adrian had forgotten that his parents. . .his aunt and
uncle. . .were out of town for the day.  Disconsolate, he
sank onto the sofa, trying not to wonder how many lies they
had told him.  He still loved them. . .of course he still
loved them.  But that didn't stop him from being angry.
                                                           
     Dammit, they had lied to him. . .for nearly thirty-five
years, they had lied!  Adrian buried his face in his hands.
It was a different sort of lie than the one Lissa and Molly
had told Lissa's daughter.  After receiving the phone call
from Alex Moreau, Adrian had hesitantly asked Lissa what
Molly had told little Cassie.
 
     The ex-cop had admitted that Cassie didn't know that
Lissa was her birth mother. . .but she did know she was
adopted.  She had been told that her birth mother had loved
her very, very much. . .but she couldn't take care of Cassie,
and so Molly Summers agreed to raise the little girl.
 
     All true.  Cassie hadn't been told that her mother was a
foolish young girl whose head was turned by a handsome Irish
sailor.  She had been told nothing like that.  Doubtless,
when the little girl finally learned the name of her birth
mother, Cassie would feel betrayed.  At first.  But at the
heart of the lie was a truth.  Lissa had been a young girl
unable to take care of her child.  Lucinda had been no
foolish girl, but a grown woman.  And he was not a mistake.
 
      .                        .                        .
  
     It took Lissa a little over a half hour to outline what
she had learned first from Kendra Tyler, then from Alex.
Derek listened to his daughter in silence, then said, "So,
when Mathews started threatening Kendra, Lucinda returned to
the world of the living to protect her grandchild."
 
     "I'm not even sure that Lucinda realizes that Kendra is
her granddaughter.  If that were the case, Dad, she would
have never attacked the other man," Lissa replied.  Derek
nodded thoughtfully, though he wasn't totally convinced.
                                                          
     "Perhaps.  There is something you aren't telling me,"
Derek commented and Lissa flushed.  She didn't looked
embarrassed or upset, but more chagrined than anything else.
The precept continued, "Did you have another argument with
Rachel in the car, sweeting?"
 
     "Oh, no. . .no, my argument wasn't with Rachel.  It was
with Adrian.  He was being a pain in the butt, so I took him
outside while Rachel questioned Kendra.  He got out of
control and snippy, and I had to tell him about Cassie.  Shut
him up real fast," Lissa replied with a sigh.
 
     Derek sighed as well, commenting, "I'm sure it did.  As
long as that's all it is."  Lissa smiled then, one of her
radiant smiles that lit up her entire face, and Derek went
on, "Do you think you'll be able to see to Philip without
much difficulty?  Dinner will be served shortly."
 
     "I think I can handle that.  I'm sorry, Daddy.  I just
wasn't ready to tell you until now," Lissa said quietly.
Derek rose to his feet, then kissed his daughter's forehead.
The truth of the matter was, she hadn't been ready to talk
about it now, either. . .and the courage it had taken her to
tell him, took his breath away.  He caressed her cheek, then
left Cassie's room.  Outside, he closed his eyes. . .the
anger was still there, but now, it was under control.
 
      .                        .                        .
  
     After leaving Derek, Rachel went outside to watch her
daughter and Cassie at play, keeping her distance from Molly.
The two girls giggled as they played shadow-tag, and Rachel
smiled in spite of herself.  Shadow tag. . .oh, just the name
brought back memories.

     So many memories. . .she had nearly lost her daughter
because of the hatred of an ancient priest, and it was the
love of a modern priest which had helped to save her child.
Talk about things coming full circle,  Rachel thought,
brushing a lock of hair from her eyes, it took a priest to
undo the damage of another priest.
 
      .                        .                        .
  
     A half hour later, everyone was gathered inside for
dinner.  As she had promised her father, Lissa helped Philip
from Cassie's room to the dining room.  She knew that her
childhood friend hated being so helpless, but at least the
tension between them was gone.  Hopefully, for good.
 
     It seemed that Nick was determined to keep things
humorous, for he immediately began teasing Philip about how
accident prone the young priest was.  And, for the most part,
her childhood friend endured the teasing in good-natured
silence.  However, he broke his silence when Nick joked,
"Philip has to be the only adult I've ever known who got
thrown down stairs by an eight year old, for God's sake!"
 
     Philip at last put down his spoon, his pale blue eyes
glittering with. . .trouble.  That was the only way Lissa
could describe it. . .trouble was ahead.  The young priest
replied calmly, though his eyes were still sparkling, "Oh?
And I s'pose you would call playin' Russian roulette wi' a
ghost. . .normal behavior for an adult?"
 
     "Behave, children," Lissa said once she could be fairly
certain she wouldn't spew tea all over the table cloth,
"you're setting a bad example for Cassandra and Katherine."
Philip just smiled and Nick rolled his eyes.
 
     "Mummy, what's Russian roulette?" Cassie piped up.  To
Lissa's amazement, Nick turned dark red.  She watched in
fascination. . .she had never seen Nick blush before, and it
was quite an educational experience.  Of course, she had seen
Philip blush many times in the past, but never Nick.
 
     "Something only nitwits and goofballs play, sweetheart,"
Rachel answered.  Lissa raised an eyebrow.  This was one
story she had never heard, but she really didn't think now
was the time to tell it.  However. . .Rachel's response gave
Lissa an idea for a snappy comeback.
 
     "Nitwits?  Don't you mean, 'Nickwits,' Rachel?" she
asked.  The psychiatrist burst out laughing, while Alex and
Molly shook with silent mirth.  Philip was biting his lip,
the two little girls were giggling helplessly, Derek was
grinning broadly, and Nick was glaring at her.
 
     "I *will* get you back for that, Elizabeth Marie Anne,"
he threatened, his glare giving way to a broad grin.  His
eyes were barely visible, and Lissa just smiled serenely.
She winked at Philip across the table.
 
     "I'm sure you will, Nick," she replied, "I'm sure you
will!"  Nick shook his head, still blushing, and the rest of
the meal continued amid much laughter and without trouble.
 
     .                        .                        .
  
     Adrian kissed his daughter good night at nine thirty,
after ordering out for a pizza and spending the night
watching tv.  He didn't have the energy to actually cook
something, and Kendra somehow sensed that he needed to be
alone. . .she usually went to bed at ten on the weekends.
 
     For the next hour and a half, Adrian stared blankly at
the tv.  He didn't know what to do, even when he finally got
in touch with Nathan and Susannah.  He found that he couldn't
call them 'Mom' and 'Dad,' not even in his heart, nor could
he call them 'Aunt Susannah' and 'Uncle Nathan.'  He was
caught betwixt and between.
 
     Finally, at five past eleven, Adrian numbly dialed the
familiar phone number, and his aunt answered on the first
ring.  Cheerily, she said, "Adrian, honey, how are you?  We
were just wondering if we should call you and let you know
that we were home safely."  Adrian wondered how she had known
that it was him, then remembered the caller ID system.
 
     "I need to ask you something, Aunt Susannah," he said.
He hated himself for the brusqueness in his voice, and for
the hurt he knew it would cause his aunt.  There was a long
silence, and to cover it, Adrian asked quietly, "Why didn't
you tell me that your sister Lucinda was my birth mother?
Who is my biological father?"
 
     There, it was out. . .he had said it.  And yet, it
brought no real relief.  Nor did the long silence from his
aunt.  Adrian's heart was thumping so hard, he was surprised
he could hear anything at all.  At last, Susannah whispered,
"Oh my God.  Oh, Adrian, I'm so sorry!"
 
     She sounded dangerously close to tears, and Adrian hated
himself all the more for hurting her, but oh God!  He had to
know the truth, once and for all.  The lies had to end
somewhere, before they harmed his only child.  But before he
could continued, Susannah replied, "It was selfish. . .for
once, I wanted something that hadn't belonged to Lucinda."
 
     The words pierced something deep within Adrian.  What
was he. . .a hand-me-down?  Susannah continued, "I never
wanted my sister to die. . .I loved her so much.  But when
she died, and you were left alone, it was like I was given a
part of her to keep.  I had just found out that Nathan
couldn't sire children. . .and so, we kept you."
                                                           
     "So, you saw me as some sort of hand-me-down?  When were
you going to tell me, Aunt Susannah?  I'm thirty-four years
old!  I'm not a little boy, I'm not a teenager, I am a grown
man with a daughter of his own!  You should have told me
years ago!" Adrian cried out, his voice growing raw with
anguish.  To his consternation, tears were burning the backs
of his eyes and he rubbed at them, irritated.
 
     "NO!  Oh my God, no!  Adrian, you were never a hand-me-
down!  You were a darling little boy, whom we both loved so
much.  And I couldn't tell you the truth. . .not right away.
It hurt so much, not being able to have my own child.  Just
having to tell you that I hadn't given birth to you was bad
enough!  And Adri, honey. . .lies have this nasty habit of
becoming harder and harder to reveal," Susannah answered.
 
     Adrian thought of Lissa learning months earlier that her
father was actually Derek Rayne.  He thought of the years
they had spent apart, because lies were so very hard to
reveal.  And then he wondered if Cassie Summers would ever
have this conversation with the woman who had raised her.
 
     "Then tell me this, Aunt Susannah. . .who is my father?"
he asked huskily.  For some reason, it was terribly important
for him to know this as well.  But he wasn't prepared for the
answer she gave him. . .not even close.