This is part 2-A. The songs covered in this section are: "I'll Be There" by Clifton Davis; "The Master Song" by Leonard Cohen; "Leader of the Pack" (don't have lyricist/composer info); "Follow Me" by John Denver; "Anticipation" by Carly Simon; "Honky-Tonk Woman" by the Rolling Stones; "What a Wonderful World(This Would Be)" (don't have lyricist/composer info.)

I don't know who wrote "We, the unwilling".

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PART TWO---The Tree of Knowledge of Evil

You and I must make a pact,

We must bring salvation back,

Whenever you need me, I'll be there.

I'll reach out my hand to you,

I'll have faith in all you do.

Just call my name. . .

---Clifton Davis

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

April, 1972---Willie came back to Fairbeach to get Cellie a few days before her birthday. He was joined by Janice Hoffman, who got on the train with him when it stopped in Boston. She had finally gotten Walter to leave for good. He'd returned

to his former girlfriend. The nuns told Janice that, under the circumstances, only one parent's consent was necessary to release an underage student from their care. Since Cellie had taken, and passed her exams, there was little point in keeping her until the last minute, especially if she intended to apply for her marriage license in time to marry on Willie's birthday.

Janice had begun to take an odd liking to her future son-in-law. Perhaps it was her newly-discovered spirit of defiance to the rules formerly imposed on her by Walter. Or maybe it was her old interest in righting social wrongs, the interest that had goaded her to join the movement for that clinic in Roxbury where Cellie had gotten her pills. The more she considered Willie's history, the more she became convinced he had suffered as much as he may have made others suffer. Though she still had anxious moments, thinking about her daughter's future with this man, she had ceased to believe he would hurt her in some irreparable way. On the contrary, he behaved as if he was truly concerned about Cellie's welfare. On the way down to Connecticut, she and Willie discussed different plans to help Cellie finish her high school classes, and then helping her to go to college after the baby was born, now that Walter had withdrawn his financial assistance.

"Barnabas and Julia will probably help us with that. It's just the traveling that might be a problem," Willie commented. "I'll think of something. I promised Cecily, and now I promised that Sister Innocent. That's like promising God, I guess. You know, until I went down there, I didn't know too much about nuns. We always heard wierd stories about them, where I grew up. But these nuns were pretty nice. When Barnabas told me she was staying with nuns, I thought at first it was because she wanted to be one. I guess I could've accepted it, as long as I knew it was them."

"It's a wonder you're accepting that you'll soon be married and a father, and that your wife will be dividing her time between her family and her education. When I met her father, I was a student in a pre-law class, and he was my tutor. We got married when I was a year and a half away from graduating. I had Ernest right away, and I never had a thought about going back to school, at least when he was young. Just when I thought he was old enough to stay with a sitter, and not miss me, I turned up pregnant just about the time I was going to sign up for part-time classes. After that, Walter and I agreed that I might as well postpone going back until Cellie grew up. I never got around to it, though I might now, seeing as she'll be married and living up here, anyway."

"I want Cecily to have whatever makes her happy, and whatever it takes to get her to stay around with me," Willie admitted. He continued, "For someone who's so smart, she never makes fun of anyone who's not. If anything, she picks on the ones who are as smart, or smarter."

"My daughter, champion of the underdog," Janice sighed. "Oh, that's not

a dig against you, Willie. It just means she sees things in people that others miss. My late mother was like that. It was like she knew you were feeling bad, and had a solution to your problem, or just an aspirin for your headache, before you even felt like you had one. She died a few months before Cellie was born. I wish they could have known each other."

Willie got a little excited by this information. He knew Barnabas and Julia were wracking their brains trying to figure out how it happened that Cellie had acquired her ability. So it had skipped a generation; perhaps it would pass their child by, after all. The thought made him kind of sad. He said, "That's just how Cecily is with everybody, but she says it's strongest with me." Then he asked, "Did Julia ever meet your mother at all?"

"Just a couple of times," Janice answered, wondering why he was so

interested. "At my wedding, of course, then at Ernest's christening, and a couple of family get-togethers. But they didn't talk much together, and Julia was off at school and involved with other interests the rest of the time."

They had arrived at the Fairbeach station. Willie called for a taxi, and within twenty minutes, they were at St. Dymphna's. When Cellie came down to meet them, Willie and Janice couldn't believe their eyes. Cellie had put on some weight, though she was still thinner than she would have been under normal circumstances. But her face was free of lines and shadows, and her hair, which had become dull and brittle, had a new luster. It also had a new style; Margene had amused herself by sitting over Cellie, as the red-haired girl sat on the floor, and creating an elaborate maze of tiny braids. "This'll last you weeks, and you won't need buckets of water to wash it, either," Margene instructed. "And if your man complains, then you can bore him to death, watching you undo all hundred-thirty of 'em. If you do, you'll look like a red-headed Cleopatra. Just consider it part one of my wedding present to you. I can't thank you enough for helping me get things straight with Marcus G."

Cellie remembered the night, a week earlier, when Margene had been

weeping over one of Marcus G.'s letters. When Cellie read it, she'd become

outraged. "What is all this crap about 'The Man's' rules, anyway? They can't

all be bad rules. If something makes sense, it shouldn't matter what 'Man' made it up! If Marcus isn't 'Man' enough to take up his responsibilities, then maybe you'll have to tell him to give it up. I hope he doesn't though, I know how much you want to be able to keep the baby." She then embraced Margene, until the older girl's tears dried, and Cellie could sense the anxiety lifting from her heart.

Well, Margene had it out with her errant lover over the phone. The whole Home could hear her sharp tone, as she announced, "So, if you want your kid to live with strangers, and someday, pass you on the street, without him or her even noticing you're alive, you go ahead and play with those bomb-tossing jail-lovers. End up in San Quentin. That's cool with me. When I'm a rich and famous lawyer, I might even handle your appeal someday, if you make enough money on your jailhouse autobiography." This wasn't quite the loving discussion Cellie had in mind. She feared that the worst had come to pass. Then, two days later, a "special delivery" letter arrived for Margene. When Margene tore into it and read it, she almost jumped for joy, but stopped just in time, or she would have delivered on the spot.

"He's coming! He's coming!" she sang. Cellie ran into the recreation

room, with a few other girls. "He's gonna marry me, and take me back to our

hometown, and transfer back to the college in Baltimore. Thank you, Jesus!"

Then she hugged her friend. "I'll bet you thought I was too sassy on the phone," Margene said. "But you don't get it. When he hung up, I heard him laughing. He alway liked the way I made him laugh."

So now, Cellie, with her copper cornrows, and her best skirt, greeted her fiance and her mother, both of who looked amazed at her hairstyle. Willie held her and whispered in her ear, "Just can't leave well enough alone with our hair, I guess. You will fix it before we get married, won't you?"

"Oh, Will. It took Margene hours to do this. I want to leave it for at least a month, okay? Margene gave me these really fancy silver beads to stick on the ends for our wedding. You'll get such a kick out of it when I'm belly-dancing around our bedroom. " She said this last in a whisper.

Janice did catch the remark about the wedding. "Cellie, your friend David's aunt Elizabeth called me about the wedding. I told her that you insisted on getting married on Willie's birthday, but since it was a weeknight, a reception was out of the question. So she offered to give you a little reception the following Sunday,at Collinwood, if you both wanted to."

"I don't know what to say. I don't know how we'd ever repay her. What do you think, Will?"

He was silent for a whole minute. Then he said, "I don't think so. It would feel too wierd for me. I was an unwelcome guest there once, and to be the guest of honor now--- and I wouldn't know what to do in return, either."

"Oh, say yes. She said both David and Carolyn were enthusiastic about it, and frankly, Julia and Barnabas don't have enough room, especially if Willie invited his own family. Unless you want to wait a while, and see if we can get the Collinsport Inn banquet hall. I called them, and they're booked solid for two months."

"I don't have enough family to fill a table, let alone a hall," Willie said. "Okay, if that's what you two want. I guess that's a woman's thing anyway, planning parties."

"Who would you invite from your side, Willie?" asked Janice. "I have to know, for when I call Elizabeth back."

"I guess my sister Fran, and her husband and two kids, if they can get away from the farm for a couple of days. And my younger brother Paul. He's coming back on leave, but only for a few days. I know the war's damn near over, but there's a lot of mopping up to do. He'll be stuck going back. That's about it. I haven't heard from the others in years."

Cellie squeezed him around his waist, in sympathy. She thought, "Pretty soon there'll be another family, one that won't break up into bite-sized pieces around him. Even if we have ten kids, we'll always know where they are." She said, "That's all settled. Could we all talk about this some more at the diner? I really need one of Teddy K.'s kitchen-sink specials."

When they got back from the diner, Willie was permitted into the "inner

sanctum" of Cellie's room, in order to carry out her luggage. The other girls followed him around like the Pied Piper. They compared notes, and realized he

was the oldest father of a Home baby, that they'd ever heard of. "If he's that old, he must be rich. Lucky Cellie," commented Sharon, the youngest resident.

"No, actually she had a chance with a really rich guy," replied Margene,

who had superior knowledge. "But I guess he must be something special anyway."

Downstairs, before they left, Cellie embraced both Sister Innocent, and Sister Marie Clare. Sister Clare said, "I've called your former school, in order to find out if any arrangements could be made for you to finish high school before the baby comes. You won't be able to attend regular classes, but the guidance counselor said there were tutors available to prepare you for the final exams in June. If you pass those, you will get a diploma, though, again, you won't be allowed to be in the graduation."

"That's the way it goes. I'm sorry for my Mom and brother having to miss that. But there will be a college graduation someday, you can count on it. And in a week, I guess I will be going through a kind of graduation. You're invited, you know, to the reception, and Margene, too, if she doesn't have her baby right away, and she's not spirited away by Marcus."

Sister Innocent said, briskly, "Well, only one of us can leave our duties here at any given time, so we'll have to check to see which of us will be free that day. As for Margene, she still has three weeks to go. It will be up to the doctor to tell if she can attend. I hope you've made arrangements with a doctor in Maine. These are

your medical records up to now." She handed Cellie a large Manila envelope.

"Well, this is goodbye, then," Cellie sighed. "I never thought I'd be this sad about leaving here, but, Geez. . ." She burst into tears. Sister Innocent held her, and drew her aside.

"May God watch over you, your baby, and your young man, dear. You know, even in your troubles, you never gave us any cause to as much as admonish you. This is a very rare situation. But you ARE a rare individual, with rare gifts. Never forget, you and Mr. Loomis must rise above the traps you've both fallen into. But I feel there is a special destiny for you, my dear. I pray that you'll find it to be a great one."

Cellie whispered, "Thank you, Sister. I'm praying for your brother, too."

Sister said softly, "That means a great deal to me. Someday, when you're settled and there's time to spare, I shall tell you more about us---"

Just then Willie came into the office. "Cecily, the taxi's waiting. We'll be late for the train." He took her hand, the one where her engagement ring now fit without slipping off.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Cellie was in her room at the Old House, deciding what to wear for her wedding in two days. Julia had wanted to take her shopping for a wedding dress, but Cellie said it would make her feel funny, under the circumstances. "I wish I could wear the turquoise dress. Will's really hung up on that old thing. But he's already seen me in it, and I heard that's supposed to be bad luck. What's more, I tried it on, and it doesn't fit anymore. And anyway, I never really cared for it much myself. Talk about serendipity! Aunt Jule, can I wear your rose blouse and grey skirt? I always liked it."

"But Willie's seen me in it," Julia protested, with a laugh.

"That doesn't count. He's not marrying you. Oh, please? I won't get

any stains on it, or anything."

"Oh, alright, if it fits, you can wear it."

"Thank you, Aunt Jule. I have to show you what Mrs. Texeira gave me yesterday. It'll fit right in." Cellie opened a long, brocaded box. She lifted what looked like a silver spider's web. "It's a handmade lace mantilla from Lisbon. It belonged to Mrs. T's mother. She has a few of them, for herself and Nurse Fatima, so she gave this one to me. There's even silver hairpins to hold it in place."

"That should look smashing with those silver braid beads."

"Oh, this is so long, it'll hide them completely." Cellie became dizzy. She sat on the bed. Julia hovered over her.

"Want me to call Dr. Hurley?"

"No, thanks. I just got a little overexcited. I'll be okay. I'll try on the clothes later. I guess I should rest." Julia sat with her for a while, then had to go downstairs to make dinner. Cellie didn't sleep. She thought of the tumultuous welcome she'd gotten from Carolyn and David, as well as Elizabeth, when she'd first arrived. There was something missing, someone she needed to see. Hallie. She didn't know if she could ever explain what had happened, but she wanted an opportunity to make peace with her former friend, as well as with the Professor. She knew Barnabas and Julia missed seeing him, and Cellie had to find out what she could do to make up for what she'd done.

Barnabas came upstairs to see her as soon as he'd gotten home from the Antique Shoppe. She let him take her hand. Every time he saw her now, Cellie sensed great waves of contrition flowing from him. She had no fear for herself, in his presence, and she made the effort to believe him when he vowed he would never do anything to harm Willie again. He'd told he wanted their lives to return to normal, as much as possible under the circumstances, and that included making peace with Elliot and Hallie.

He said, "I don't know if we'll ever be able to re-establish friendly relations with the Stokes family. These feelings of rejection and betrayal, as you surely know by now, sometimes never go away." He sighed. "I do miss them terribly. And Elliot would have been a great help in dealing with your problem."

"Barnabas, you can't throw away two hundred years of friendship between

the Collinses and the Stokeses just like that. Take me. I can make the connection. I can even take the rejection, if it comes to that. You wouldn't have to say a word."

"Well, I'll go discuss this with your aunt. If she feel there's no danger to you and the baby, we'll go as soon as possible."

Less than an hour later, Barnabas was parking his car in front of the Stokes bungalow. He, Julia, and Cellie approached the front steps with some trepidation. Cellie said, "You both stand back. I'll do most of the talking. Here goes nothing." She rang the bell.

Elliot answered. He held the evening paper in his hand. Cellie was thankful they hadn't come any later, as Hallie once told her that Elliot usually preferred to retire at a ridiculously early hour when he didn't have other plans. "Cellie. What are you doing here?" His tone was unfriendly. He looked beyond her. "Julia. And Barnabas. You should have called first."

"And have you tell us we can't come anyway?" Cellie said. "Professor

Stokes, I need to talk to you and Hallie. I have something to ask you. It's

dreadfully important." She was standing up to his modest waves of blue-yellow

anger. Willie could generate more emotion if he discovered his coffee wasn't

strong enough. It was that sad mauve grey, those midnight blues, that wore

her down.

Elliot replied, "I wouldn't let you see Hallie even if she wanted to. Thank goodness she's at a game with the cheerleaders. You must know, Cellie, since you were sent away, Hallie told me the whole sordid story of your intrigue with Willie Loomis. She told me how she had to play along with David while he saw to it that you two could be alone. Needless to say, I don't encourage her to spend time with him anymore, either. I was truly outraged when she told me the truth about your little fainting spell on the road from Ellsworth. My God, all of you could have been killed. You all behaved abominably, and, I understand, with predictable results." He glared at her belly.

Barnabas said, "Elliot--", but Cellie reached behind, and tapped him on his chest. She said, apologetically, "Yes, we did things that were wrong. You have the right to be angry with us. I'm going to make you even angrier when I tell you, it's my fault you didn't get to marry my Aunt."

Elliot looked stricken. "How could you have done that? Why would you have done that? Are you such a manipulative little minx that you don't care who you hurt? Are you so mindlessly attached to Barnabas that if he wants something, it must be a good idea? That's the sort of thinking I would expect from your lover. What kind of a person are you, Cellie?" He turned away, to hide his tears. His abject sorrow was physically painful for Cellie. Barnabas and Julia, seeing her wince, tried to lead her down the steps.

She pulled away from them, and stepped into the house, following Elliot.

He turned, and said, "Please remove yourself from my home." She grabbed his arms and looked into his eyes. He tried to turned away, as though he feared bewitching. She breathed deeply. He felt all the pain and anger and frustration literally being lifted from him. Then, they returned, but he could keep them in a manageable place, held in invisible chains, and think about his next move. He wondered if they would crash on him when she removed her hands from his arms.

She had become very red in the face, and she put her hands to her mouth. Elliot quickly led her to the bathroom. He, Barnabas, and Julia, who had come into the house, listened to her tortured retching.

"If I had known THIS would happen," Julia said, "I wouldn't have consented to bring her. She's been under an exceptional strain, until lately. It makes things even more difficult, that I can't give her any medication except in an emergency."

Finally Cellie emerged, redder than ever, and sweating, and fell into her uncle's arms. "That," she whispered, "is the kind of person I am."

Elliot's mind was clear enough at present, to indulge in simple wonder-

ment and intellectual curiosity. "Empathic transference," he said. "I've certainly known incidents of direct empathic contact with a specific individual, as you have, Barnabas. This is completely different. I've only heard of several such cases, but it's a one-in-ten million chance, that I should meet an empath with such a versatility of function, here."

Barnabas finally spoke. "And what better place to meet one than here?"

Elliot said, "How did this come about? Is this a recent phenomenon, due

to the pregnancy, or has it been going on longer?"

Cellie couldn't speak. Elliot ran to get her a glass of cool water. While she swallowed cautiously, Julia explained. "The first incidence took place when she was around thirteen."

"Puberty seems to bring out these anomalies," Elliot mused. "Hallie began to have clairvoyant dreams when she was almost fourteen. It was a great sorrow to her that she couldn't prevent her parents' departure on that last trip, even though she'd been dreaming about airplanes for a week beforehand." He sighed. "I've actually tried to discourage her from interpreting her dreams, telling her it's coincidence, that it's not significant. . . I wonder how much she believes that, but I felt that she really didn't have the emotional stamina, and after our 1841 adventure, it hardly seemed

necessary. . .I'm sorry, do continue."

Julia commented, "Perhaps this is time to deal with it, BEFORE it ever BECOMES necessary." She then picked up the story. "Cellie's 'anomaly' started, if I understand her explanation correctly, with simple sensations, and seeing different colors in her head. The colors differentiate the emotions before they become clear on their own merits. As you can see, she can become quite ill when the emotions become violent. Well, with the onset of sexual feelings and activities, it became more acute. She can actually sense when Willie is in the area, from some distance. She became very ill in the maternity home, from negative emotions absorbed from him when we forced them to part. And she discovered a new facet of her talent."

Cellie spoke in a hoarse whisper. "It's what I wanted to tell you. I knew that, deep down, Aunt Jule was ambivalent about marrying you. That she was in love with Barnabas, but she gave up on him. But I got the sense that he loved her back. I'm sorry. So sorry. I didn't want to, but I made her emotions turn on herself somehow. I thought I was killing her."

Elliot stared at the floor. "Julia, I remember how you said you felt absolutely no pain, once you took off the engagement ring, and handed it to me."

"I wasn't being callous, Elliot," Julia said soothingly. "I was in tremendous agony, until I could bring myself to do that. I had tried so hard to believe that marrying you would be the best thing for all of us, but doubts kept eating at me, until the last instant, doubts that might well have shattered our marriage eventually."

"I don't know what to say, Julia," her former fiancee said. "I suppose it could have been a mistake, going through with it. I admit I was feeling a little ambivalent myself. But I did love you. I'm not ashamed to say it still hurts."

"Hurts me too. Hate to see good friends part," Cellie croaked. Her throat was burning again. She went to get more water.

"Believe me when I say that I did suffer tremendous guilt over disappointing you, Elliot," Julia continued. "Without Cellie to prompt us to action, I'm not sure when either I or Barnabas would have gathered the courage to plead for your forgiveness. We miss you terribly, as a friend and an advisor."

Barnabas said. "Elliot, we all had some interesting times together, when we were working toward a common goal. We miss your insights about the empathism and other matters. Cellie has also been visited by a spirit, a benign one, fortunately. Apparently, she can 'read' ghosts as well as people."

Elliot replied,"Hallie DID mention such an incident, months ago, after Cellie's first visit to Collinwood, though she reported that both Cellie and David, who also apparently saw the entity, minimized it to the point that even I thought it simply a random apparition. I'm sure there are many such minor phantasms still at Collinwood. But THIS changes everything! To get directly to anyone's basest feelings would be a heady power for an evil entity, I suppose. Saves one the trouble of working through the intellects and inhibitions imposed from the outside."

"Exactly," Barnabas replied. "Elliot, I swear to you, we had no idea of this condition when she first came to us. She was using it in an immature fashion, as one would expect from a young girl. Of course, as long as she kept the sensations to herself, it did little harm. But you can see what problems this may lead to, unless she is taught to use it appropriately. She even managed to strike an emotional blow to her own father, in an effort to protect Willie, by combining my anger with her own. And then, there is the child. Willie told us that Cellie may have inherited the trait from her maternal grandmother. Just because it skipped one generation doesn't mean it will also skip this one." Barnabas put his hand on his old friend's shoulder, and smiled ruefully. "I must say, Elliot, surrogate parenting is quite a difficult task."

Elliot felt the rest of his negative feelings, held in place by the invisible chains, slowly dissipate. "That's true, even with Hallie, now that she's opening herself to new experiences. Between what I suppose are normal adolescent dilemmas and facing her peculiar gifts make ME fear a day of reckoning---"

Julia said, "Elliot, don't even think for a minute that she will end up in the same situation as Cellie. They may be subject to the same temptations, but Cellie was the more adventurous."

Barnabas commented, "It was almost inevitable, but to tell the truth, if it had to happen with anyone, I could think of a dozen more suitable candidates than Willie. Still, he's quite eager to assume his responsibilities."

Cellie had returned. She'd overheard a little of the conversation while she frantically gulped water. She knew she would live to regret drinking all that fluid but she finally got the heat in her throat to die down. "Professor," she whispered loudly, "I wanted to ask you and Hallie to my wedding reception at Collinwood. We're getting married the day after tomorrow, but Mrs. Stoddard's giving a party on Sunday afternoon."

"As a matter of fact, Elizabeth invited us already, with a view to repairing the rift in all our relationships. I told her I would have to think it over. Now I know I'll certainly accept. I'll talk to Hallie, and maybe she'll be willing to call you tomorrow. In spite of everything, she does miss you."

"I miss her too. It'll be nice to get together. We're having quite a mix of guests. All the Collinses, of course, and my mom and brother, and Lillian. Will's sister's family and his brother, and Sister Clare from the Home. and maybe, my friend Margene. Those jewelers who sold us our rings, the Detweiler-Braithewaites. Oh, yeah, and Mrs. Texeira."

"Well, I'm sure it will be an interesting gathering. We'll see you Sunday, then."

* * * * * * * * * * *

Willie and Cellie were married at the Collinsport courthouse that Tuesday, by Judge James. Willie found it a novel experience to enter any courthouse for a positive reason. When the Judge completed the ceremony, and Willie was about to kiss his bride, she whispered, "How's this for a birthday present?" and embraced him passionately. Barnabas and Julia, the sole attendees and witnesses, and even Willie himself, were a little embarrassed, but the Judge found it rather amusing.

The older couple took the newlyweds to dinner at the Collinsport Inn.

By this time, Cellie was far more subdued, and sat quietly enough with her new husband. She leaned against his shoulder, her multitude of tiny braids tumbling around under her mantilla. She'd left off the silver beads, when she discovered they made annoying clacking sounds which even she thought was inappropriate for a wedding. She would save them for Sunday, when she still had hopes of seeing Margene. She was surprised to find herself becoming nervous. She glanced at Willie, and even though he was gazing at her mildly, she knew he was anxious too.

There was something about the stiff artificiality of the situation, sitting so calmly across from the two people who, just weeks before, had seemed to be their staunchest opponents. Even though Cellie felt comfortable with her uncle and aunt in private, she knew they'd never be completely at ease when they saw her with her husband. Both Willie and Cellie were quite relieved when, after the conventional embraces and good wishes, Barnabas and Julia got into their own car to drive home.

Cellie climbed into the station wagon beside Willie. She reached out for him, and he grabbed her, pulling her down on the wide front seat. They were both laughing now. Between kisses, she said, "Hey, watch out for the veil!" They sat up, while Cellie carefully removed the delicate lace web and its silver anchors, and folded it up carefully into her purse. "Well, are we going home, or shall we scandalize everyone who walks into the parking lot?"

"Home." He gunned the wheezy motor.

They got to the Antique Shoppe's kitchen door. When Willie unlocked it,

he said, "You know what I have to do now."

"Oh, Geez, Will, you'll slip a disk and become absolutely use--" Cellie

squealed in delighted exasperation as he carried her over the threshold.

"Thanks for the lift, hon. I hope you're not going to carry me up the stairs, too?"

"Nah, I got better ways to wear myself out." First, he pulled down the new kitchen shades. No more free shows for passersby on the sidewalk. Then he held Cellie gently. He whispered, "You're sure we won't be hurting the baby?"

She replied, "You heard Dr. Hurley. 'Everything in moderation.' We'll just have to figure out for ourselves what that's supposed to mean."

He led her upstairs. They laid down on the bed. "Now, don't mess up the dress," she warned.

He said, "I can take care of that." He quickly worked on her buttons and zippers. Then he turned his attention to the whiplike braids. "Cecily, please do something about these."

"Can't I keep them till Sunday, at least? I wanted Margene to see me with the beads. I can't take 'em out now , in any case, unless you want to wait around a few hours." Geez, she thought. Willie really had a tendency to get bossy about the hair. For the first time, Cellie wondered what else he might get bossy about.

He sighed. "I suppose you're right. I don't feel like waiting, that's for sure. I just don't get it with girls always messing up their hair."

"I'll show you who's a girl."

* * * * * * * * * * *

Cellie had fallen asleep, curled up to Willie as she always had, her braided head resting on his chest. Suddenly, he began to twitch, and then toss and turn. Cellie woke up to the sound of her husband groaning in his sleep. He was attempting to fend off some attacker that appeared in his dream. She leaned over him, gently trying to wake him. A couple of the braids brushed his face, and one slid into his mouth, maybe down his throat. He rose quickly, coughing, slapping her away, muttering something about snakes all over him. "Will, cut that out! What are you doing? It's me." She had a sick fear in the pit of her stomach, akin to the fear she'd absorbed before she was sent away--- all bright blue violet. He realized what he was doing, and huddled away from her. She repeated, sadness in her voice, "Will, it's just me, Cecily."

He replied, in a defeated tone, "Sorry, Cecily. I'm sorry.

I just get these dreams sometimes---Someone-someone was after me, and then the snakes. . ."

"You're getting carried away. I know you were really scared, but I think you're just too hung up about the braids, and you're looking for an excuse---" Then Cellie heard him sobbing. This was real, she could tell. Willie was reliving some bad memory, that seemed obvious, maybe about when he was shot. Perhaps he was thinking about when she was sent away, and how Barnabas--- She said soothingly, "Don't be frightened of anything. I'm here, and I'm not going away. I'll take care of you." He quieted down, and drew her to him again. It was a strange sensation, she thought, feeling like she was far older than Willie.

The next morning, she woke up spontaneously at six A.M. and, being careful not to wake her husband, threw on a robe and went into the bathroom. She sat on the edge of the tub, with a large comb. With tears in her eyes, she began to unravel the braids, all one-hundred thirty of them.

* * * * * * * * * * *

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Cellie resumed her duties at the Antique shoppe. A couple of the old

customers, who had shied away from the place during her absence, wandered in,

saw she had returned, and spread the word. "Nobody can make this place more entertaining, for want of a better word," Carolyn commented to Barnabas. He agreed. Business picked up a bit, and Barnabas decided not to sell the store after all.

Willie's attitude had improved considerably since they'd found Cellie. But once they were married, his progress had slowed, like a phonograph needle stuck in a scratch on a record. He did his work well enough, but he wasn't as happy as he thought he'd be. He apologized to Cellie about the braids every chance he got, till she got tired of it. Cellie, frightened by every move he made in his sleep, kept sneaking downstairs to rest on the red velvet settee, which left her exhausted and crabby. But she didn't have the heart to ask him to leave their bed. The night before they were supposed to appear as joyful newlyweds at Elizabeth's reception, both were already wondering if their marriage was a mistake.

"It's not the hair anymore," Cellie was explaining to him. "It's the way you won't tell me why you're so afraid. Will, you said you would tell me about all the secrets---about the kidnapping, about the problem you have with Barnabas. I know you have a monstrous fear of him, far beyond what he almost did to you when he caught us. Even though you two act like you've really patched things up since I've been back. If you can't tell me, I'll find someone to help you. Something has to be done soon. I can't sleep with you if I always have to worry that you're going to lash out at imaginary snakes, and end up hitting me instead. What's going to happen when I'm really big, and you mistake me for whatever else is after you in those dreams?"

"I wouldn't hit you like that again. I didn't mean to do it. Cecily, I wish I could tell you, like I promised. But I can't. Not right now. If you want to leave, I won't stop you. " He didn't begin to cry again; that was an improvement, she thought.

"I don't want to leave you, Will. Ever. But maybe it would be better if we fixed up the other bedroom. We'll have to start, anyway, so we'll have it ready for the baby. I'll stay in there. If you need me at night, I'll get up in a second." She kissed him, and ran her hands up and down his back. "I know I'll be needing you. Like, right now."

He pleaded, "Don't go in there. I miss you too much when I wake up in the night, and I know you're not in bed with me. I've been good for a couple of days, maybe it won't happen again." That night, after they made love, he slept like a log, and, after an hour of anxiety, Cellie was able to doze off beside him.

The next afternoon, they stood in the foyer at Collinwood, greeting their guests. Cellie had already had a call from Arnold; he had a bad cold, and Lisa was suffering badly from sciatica, but the present they sent would be arriving at the Antique Shoppe in a couple of days. There were two late additions; Willie had asked Pavlos, who wore his most eye-popping leisure suit, and Maggie Evans, who, when Carolyn asked her earlier in the week, wasn't sure she could make it until the last minute. Pavlos caught Cellie in a bear hug that lifted her from the floor, and made her dizzy. "Little Flame!" he exclaimed exuberantly. "We must get you to sing a little tonight. It will be good for you and---" he whispered, "the littler flame. Willie told me. Remember, every new life is a soul regained."

"Regained? I think you'd get some disagreement from Sister Marie Clare

there," replied Cellie, indicating the nun, who stood alongside Margene (who now wore a diamond chip engagement ring) near the fireplace with David and Hallie. Cellie had felt a pang of disappointment when she'd learned that Sister Innocent couldn't make the reception. Still, she'd been quite enthusiastic in greeting the assistant director of St. Dymphna's, who spent some time trying to cheer the disappointed Cellie with raucous stories of her own early girlhood in the south of Boston.

"I think the good Sister and I would be in agreement far more than

you would think," Pavlos said. "What I mean is, every child is not only just its own person, but contains bits and pieces of each generation that came before it, as well as bits and pieces of that which influenced the previous generations. Not necessarily reincarnation, but, perhaps, a kind of accumulated memory. Though I would never rule out any possibility. You bring forth the child, you bring forth more than a blank slate, to be exclusively influenced by that which happens to it every day in its own sphere."

"You must talk to Professor Stokes. These are the sort of theories and

beliefs he expounds," Cellie advised. "Pavlos, you're something else. I'll bet you don't talk about these things with Will at the Koffeehaus."

"A little, so that he is able to understand. He seeks knowledge, but

obviously, at some point, his mind became as though frozen. But he loves to talk about you. He does appear to understand you very well. And you understand him. In his case, that may be all that's necessary." He released her, and went into the drawing room to join the others.

Cellie turned to Maggie, and embraced her. "I can't thank you enough for what you did for Will," Cellie whispered. "For you to come through for him, after what you went through, and for me--- and you barely know me."

Maggie replied, "I have to admit, it was Carolyn's idea, but once we got in there, I could see it was the right thing to do. He really has changed since he's been with you. As for you, you are a lot like your aunt in many ways, and we became good friends. And any friend of Carolyn's is a friend of mine." She paused, thinking, then she continued, "And you know what else? Doing that was good for me too. It brought back some memories of the old times, when I felt like I really was in control of my life, when I used to have fun. I mean , I'm in control at the art store, but when I'm away from there, I don't usually feel so free--- you know what I mean?"

Cellie said, "You really got into the spirit of things, I take it."

Maggie smiled. "I did indeed. I wish my father was around, so I could tell him. I wish he could've met you. He would have wanted to paint you, that's for sure. You have that kind of red hair artists love so much."

"Maybe I should come in and model for your art students sometime.

Just for the hair, of course," Cellie laughed. It was the first time she'd had a happy thought about her hair since her wedding night.

She moved on, and stood with Willie as she met his family for the first time. Fran Loomis Maracek stood with her husband, Steve, and her two children, Lew and Adele. Standing a little apart, looking across the drawing room in David and Hallie's direction, was Willie's youngest brother, Paul.

As she shook hands and kissed everyone, Cellie was struck by the almost

total resemblence between Willie and his younger sister, and the equally striking lack of resemblance between them and Paul. She thought of the small cache of Loomis family photographs ringing the mirror on the dresser at home. Willie and Fran resembled their father very strongly, as did the three middle brothers. Paul, alone, bore some resemblance to their mother. Cellie speculated--- Willie's father had left his family when his oldest son was thirteen. Paul was still an infant at the time. She began to wonder if, perhaps, the elder Mr. Loomis had doubts about his paternity of the youngest child, and finally left, after years of abusing his family, when he discovered this was, indeed, the truth. She wished she had the nerve to ask her husband, but he made it clear, he didn't like talking about that time. What did it matter, anyway? she thought. She'd probably find out, sooner or later from

her talkative new sister-in-law. Willie was right, Fran could "yack up a storm."

"I'm just so glad Willie decided to settle down at last," Fran was saying. "All those years of him being a rolling stone, tom-catting around the globe with God knows who. Oh, I'm sorry, I shouldn't mention that in front of you, but it was such a worry, Cellie, you can't imagine!"

"Oh, Will's told me some pretty interesting stories," Cellie replied.

"And then, to be holed up in this place, without a word for the first couple of years--- our mother was so worried, being in her last illness and all. It was such a relief when he came up to see her, with that last girl---what was her name again, Willie?"

"Please, Fran, I don't want to talk about her in front of my wife. Cecily knows all about that stuff anyway," Willie said in an embarrassed tone. "Tell her about the farm. Let Steve talk. Or Paul. The kids. Anybody."

"Relax, hon," Cellie said, looking into his eyes. The tension that had

been rising in him lessened in a minute. "You know, I'm a city girl, from Boston. I don't know much about farms in general, let alone dairy farms. Um, how big is your place? How many cows? What kind?"

Steve, a large, good-natured fellow, forstalled his wife's reply. "We're on about forty acres right now. We used to have more, but I sold off a parcel to developers when we needed money quick. We got fifty cows right now, and two bulls, Holsteins. Used to have Guernseys in my Dad's time, but the fashion now is less fat in the milk. The black-and-whites are better for that. I grow some of my own feed, and have my own outfit, for bottling and pasteurizing. We still deliver to some folks. When you visit, I'll

have to show you around. City folks are usually pretty impressed by the whole process."

Paul said, "They've been farming continuously on the site for almost two-hundred-fifty years. The house is at least two hundred. Steve's folks used to work for the old farmers, then bought them out around thirty-five years ago. I've been helping out, since I was ten, and I moved there with Mom." His voice broke a little when he said her name. He seemed to be very solemn in general, Cellie noticed, as though there was a cloud hanging over him. Well, considering where he was going in a few days, she couldn't blame him. Cellie hoped to corner him for a private talk later.

"Everyone who's on the farm has to help, even the kids and, occasionally, the guests," Fran said. "We got a couple of workers staying there tonight, running things, till Steve goes back tomorrow on the early train. But I guess in a few years we'll have to hire more help. Paul's planning on going back to college when he finishes his hitch--" now her voice turned low, from the anxiety that thinking of the unstable situation overseas brought on "--and even the kids don't think they'll be into farming when they get older."

"Well," Cellie answered, "Who knows? I might take a liking to the farming life once I've been introduced to it, and I'll get Will to move there." She was piling it on pretty thick, but she was sincerely interested. She knew Willie had been catching it from his sister since she'd found out he was marrying such a young girl from what she considered to be a high-class family. Cellie thought of her hard-working middle-class, immigrant grandparents (even her mother's mother, who came from an old Massachussetts family, had been the daughter of the owners of a "Mom and Pop" grocery store). She decided that Fran must have been thinking about the small connection to the Collins family.

Adele and Lew, aged twelve and ten, respectively, had wandered off to visit with David and Hallie. Cellie approached, in time to hear Lew say, "Wow! This house is chock-full of ghosts? Take me, I wanna see 'em." Adele, a shy, quiet girl who resembled her mother, said nothing, but stared at David like he was her favorite rock star. Paul came up, and Cellie performed introductions. Cellie felt a growing red sensation, and looked around. Paul and Hallie were looking at each other, and looking away, and looking again, smiling and blushing a bit. Whatever cloud Paul was under seemed to dissipate when he glanced at the blonde girl.

"Oh, no," Cellie thought. "If this goes any farther, the Professor will have my head on a platter." But there was nothing she could do. Really, it wasn't that terrible; Paul was his older brother's (Half-brother's?) opposite in almost every way. He was rather good-looking, polite, and bright, even ambitious, if what his sister said about him was true. There was one major draw-back, as far as Cellie was concerned. She had adopted her in-laws' anxiety over his coming ordealoverseas. If Hallie got too attached to him, and he should be maimed or even killed, Cellie did not want to speculate about Hallie's probable reaction.

Cellie said, "David, You've been filling these kids' heads with a lot of bullchips. I don't think their folks would appreciate your guiding them through the West Wing, and your aunt would pitch a fit."

"Aw, Torchtop, I'm just entertaining them." The children giggled when he called her by his nickname for her. "It's a boring party for the kiddies, you know?" That little Adele was more than entertained, Cellie could tell. She didn't have to "read" her new niece to know she had a dreadful crush on David. Cellie refrained from calling him "Muffinhead" in Adele's presence.

"You want to entertain them? Hit that piano, right now. I'm in the mood to sing. Something about weddings, I guess. Something Broadway. You know 'Sunrise, Sunset'? My mom loves that one."

"But you like 'One Hand, One Heart,' I thought."

"Too gloomy." Cellie did like that one line at the end, "Even death won't part us now," but she thought it might be a bad omen. She remembered how depressed she'd been for days after her mother had taken her to see "West Side Story." What a downer ending that was!

David said, "It's your choice, you're the guest of honor. It's nice of you to earn your keep this way."

Cellie made a face. She pulled David over to a corner, and asked, "David, are you having a problem with all this? The fact that I'm married and pregnant, and the most you had to do with it was arranging my meetings with Will? Are you jealous?"

David wore a disgruntled expression on his face. "Maybe I am, Torchtop, maybe I am. God knows I got into enough hot water over the whole situation, as though I had done the deed myself. If I had, at least it would have been worth the aggravation." He sighed. "I wish it had been me. I sort of love you, you know? And it would have been such a trip, getting married to you. I know guys my age don't usually think that way, but then, most guys haven't been through some of the things I have. They don't know what's important, not yet, anyway."

Cellie stroked his arm. "You've always been way ahead of the pack, Muffinhead. Someday you'll find someone to appreciate it. But you knew how it was with Will and me, from the beginning, and I thought you supported us. You like him, you said you always did, even when he first came to Collinwood and was so nasty."

"I was a little kid then. I thought he was really cool. Then he quieted

down--- I guess I'll never know why. But even then he was okay to me. I thought he deserved to be treated better than Barnabas and all the other grown-ups treated him. I guess that's what they call identifying with somebody. Then we both met you. This will sound wierd, but, at first, I thought if I helped you go with him a few times, you would turn to me when you got tired of him. When that didn't happen, I still thought it was pretty cool to tweak all the adults. And then I could see it was the real thing with you two. But, I didn't think it would end up like this for a long time, and that you and I could still hang out and pal around together, sing at the Koffeehaus, that kind of thing, at least until I got a regular girlfriend too."

Cellie was trying to draw out his unhappiness in a gentler, less obvious

manner than she'd used on the Professor. She had no intention of spoiling her big day with a session of retching. "We'll still be pals, David. Being married is nice, don't get me wrong, but Will and I have quite a few kinks to iron out. It's pretty heavy stuff. I need some comic relief. And as for you, even though I won't be in school anymore, there are places I can still check for signs of intelligent female life. You could take me shopping once in a while, and we'll try every cashier. It's been said," she commented solemnly, "that cashiers make the best lovers."

David asked, "And why is that, Torchtop?"

"Because they know what buttons to push." David chuckled. Cellie continued, "If Will could find someone nice at the store, so could you. And, I've been thinking a lot about this, I want you to be the baby's godfather."

"That's fitting. I guess in a way, I'm partly to blame for it's coming. I don't know, it sounds like a heavy responsibility. Who's the lucky godmother? Carolyn? Hallie?"

"I haven't decided. Maybe since I picked a godfather, I should let Will

pick the godmother. We still have almost six months to go, but I wanted you to know."

To her relief, David had calmed down nicely, none the wiser for her intervention. "Aw, heck, why not?," he said. "This is the heir to the house of Torchtop we're talking about. The kid has to inherit your sense of humor, Cellie. And doing this will still have some eyebrow-raising value among our more prudish acquaintances."

"I'm happy to learn that you've got your priorities in order, Muffinhead," Cellie replied. "Now, get the gang together, and let's blow 'em away with our talents."

David got everyone's attention, then began to play. He put her through her paces. For a solid twenty minutes, he had her singing Rogers and Hammerstein, Lerner and Lowe, changing the tempo at a moment's notice. Finally, seeing that his wife looked a little peaked, Willie intervened. He made her sit on the couch, while he brought her something to drink. Then he wandered off in the direction of the dining room.

Margene sat with her. "I see your man couldn't stand the braids."

"I'm sorry, Margene. He almost let me keep 'em, but he had a bad dream

the other night, and somehow they were all over his face, and, well, as they say, the rest is hysteria. You can have your beads back." Cellie looked regretful. She changed the subject. "When's the big day for you and Marcus?"

"When the baby's six weeks old. I'm still under my Dad's insurance, so the hospital will be taken care of." Cellie was a little worried about money, too, but it seemed so far off. Maybe she would be like those peasant women, having a baby at home in two grunts, and bypassing the hospital completely. Margene continued, "By then, I'll be able to wear my Mom's wedding dress."

"I wearing mine right now." Cellie said. "But I'm not wearing the veil

tonight---it was so delicate I almost ripped it right after the wedding!" After a while. Margene drifted away, and Cellie walked to where Elliot was standing with Mrs. Texeira.

The Professor seemed genuinely pleased to see her. Cellie could understand why. Mrs. Texeira, who appeared to Cellie in a haze of reds, was doing her utmost to charm Elliot, whom she had brought to the point of calling her by her first name. And Elliot, who now considered himself reconciled with both Julia and Barnabas, was generating some warm pinks. "Ah, the bride," he said. Where's the happy bridegroom?"

"Oh, he's scoping out the buffet, and choosing the most boring nutritious items, which he will insist that I pile onto my plate. How's it going here?"

Elliot replied, "I've just been having the most interesting chat with Fatima, about Lisbon. I visited there in the early sixties, and she just went back there last summer. We were comparing notes."

Fatima said, "I've convinced him to come and join us for dinner next Sunday."

Cellie said, "You'll never eat better in your life, Professor. Mrs. T.

brought in some food in at Christmastime, and she does something special with linquica. I'm looking around for new recipes, myself, as you might expect."

Fatima smiled. "That brings back memories of starting out my life with

Joao. Some things never change."

Cellie was relieved that the Professor's situation was so easily taken care of. Even if this didn't lead to anything permanent, at least he'd be getting out, and she doubted he would suffer such a letdown from the warm-hearted guidance counselor.

She moved on to where Elizabeth and Carolyn were surveying the

company. Willie came up from behind Cellie and put his arms around her waist as she was thanking their hostess. "I can't tell you how much we appreciate this, Mrs. Stoddard."

Elizabeth said, "It's my pleasure. It's wonderful to have the house full of company, for such a happy reason, for the first time in years."

Willie looked uncertain. "You really mean it? I know it wouldn't have

been too happy, years ago."

Elizabeth replied, "Times have changed. People sometimes change with

them. We're all quite different than the way we were back then. And the change in you, Willie, has been the most striking. I'd say you belong to us now. And Cellie does too. Heaven knows I should be the last one to pass judgement. One must think of the positive. You both are doing the best thing, and in a few months, we'll have a precious new member in our circle."

Carolyn said, rather sadly, "The cycle of life goes on. Maybe it's appropriate that the first member of the next generation should come to us from the outside."

Elizabeth, Cellie, and even Willie caught that small catch in her voice. Outside the Shoppe, Carolyn's personal life was now as arid as Willie's had once been. Both women considered the best way to remedy the situation, without making it look like they were interfering in Carolyn's life. Willie whispered to Cellie, "You have to get cracking with that matchmaking thing."

Cellie looked across the room, to where her mother was standing at Pavlos's side, and laughing at something he was saying to Ernest and Lillian. Cellie planned to have a private chat with Ernest about Tony Peterson.

Fran passed by at that moment, with an anxious look on her face. "Have

you seen Lew and Adele around? I wanted to get 'em in line for dinner, but I haven't seen them in about twenty minutes."

Cellie said, "Have you asked David?"

Fran said, "I did, and he hasn't seen them since before you began to sing. By the way, you do have such a pretty voice, Cellie. Willie was bragging about it before. Anyhow, you wouldn't have a clue as to where they'd be in this big place?"

Cellie thought of all the nooks and crannies the curious children might have gotten themselves into. "I guess we'll have to look for them," she sighed.

Elizabeth said, "And as quickly as possible. There are some dangerous

areas in the unused portion of the house, if that's where they went." Fran gasped, and Elizabeth said, reassuringly, "It's not like the beams are falling, and we have an exterminator go in a couple of times a year, so there shouldn't be much in the way of rats. But it's dark and they could trip on things."

Cellie was about to tell about the loose floorboard she'd tripped on once, but she didn't want to get her sister-in-law more upset. She hoped the exterminator managed to kill some of the poisonous spiders. Willie had knocked off a black widow in their closet hideaway back in January. Cellie wondered if Fran believed in ghosts, another occupational hazard of strolling the halls of Collinwood.

Elizabeth continued, "We'll get David and my brother Roger, and Willie,

of course, to search the West wing. I don't see Barnabas out here, but we'll find him and ask him, too. They know it best. Carolyn and I will search the cellars. Fortunately they're not quite as extensive. We can get some of the others to search outside."

Cellie spoke up. "I'll help search the West wing. I've been in there enough with David."

Elizabeth said, with a rueful smile, "Why doesn't that surprise me? I'd

rather you stayed and rested. If we need more help, I can get Mrs. Johnson.

Or Julia."

Willie said, "It'll probably just take a few minutes, Cecily. They wouldn't know where the good hiding places are, anyway."

She whispered, "But if they are hiding, and they're afraid or anything,

I could probably sense where they are. Don't worry, I'll be okay."

David, who'd come up behind them during this exchange, poked Cellie and asked, "What's that all about?"

Cellie, who'd been looking for an excuse to tell David her secret, whispered, "Tell ya later." To her husband she said, "Please, hon?"

"Oh, all right. But you stay near me."

Roger, grumbling under his breath about the interruption of his observation of the new and interesting female faces in his house, and Barnabas, flashlights in hand, entered the deserted wing from the so-called "secret panel" in the drawing room, right in front of the guests. Willie, Cellie, and David went upstairs to the locked door near David's room. In this manner, they hoped to cover the area from top to bottom, and meet in the middle, then fan out again if they didn't get any results.

David followed the couple, who'd gone on ahead so that Cellie might have a better chance of picking up on any vibrations the children might generate. They'd given him a brief explanation of her abilities on the way up to the West wing door. David was impressed. No wonder Cellie could get along with practically everybody, except, apparently, Jack Knowlton. No wonder she and Willie had been able to get so close

in such a short time. "Two halves of a whole," David had said to Hallie, and it had turned out to be true.

They called out the children's names, which echoed in the vast corridors. There was no answer, and Cellie wasn't picking up anything yet. They looked in all the familiar places, including the forlorn-looking wardrobe, where they'd left the old mattress. They heard mice skittering away, and noted the cobwebs, but there were few spiders. Cellie was feeling very uneasy, all of a sudden. She demanded, "Give me a flashlight. I just got a sensation. But I need to go on ahead."

Willie protested. "It's not safe, Cecily. I don't want you to fall."

"I won't, " she promised, "But it's like something wants me to see what I have to see, alone. I don't think it wants to hurt me."

David chimed in. "We'll be real close behind you. You see something you'd rather not, just turn and run to us. We'll book out of here in no time flat."

Willie shrugged. Nobody could stop his wife from doing whatever she darn well pleased, or her best buddy either. He sighed, praying silently that David would not be a frequent visitor at the Antique Shoppe. Willie hadn't even been told yet about Cellie's choice of a godfather.

Cellie kissed her husband, which dissipated his irritable thoughts

immediately. She went ahead five paces, around a corner she hadn't seen before. There were two doors close together. "Which one, the lady or the tiger?" she thought, as she tried the one on the left. It was just another closet, filled with old cobwebs. The one on the right opened onto a storage room crammed with old books. "Lew? Adele?" Cellie whispered hopefully. She felt a wave of sorrow and yearning, far more intense than what she'd sensed from Sarah. There was a man, or something like a man, standing behind a stack of books. From what she could make out with her light, he was dressed in what appeared to be fringed leather pants, a matching jacket, and a clamshell necklace. She couldn't see his face.

She backed out of the room, resisting the urge to yell for her companions. The guy looked like a biker, she thought at first, then she changed her mind. He looked like an Indian--- oh, what did they call themselves these days? Native Americans, that was it. Cellie considered all she'd learned so far about the Collins family history. The only mention of any dealings with Native Americans was that disturbing account of Nathaniel Collins's massacre of those he'd thought guilty of slaughtering his own little family. Cellie wondered if this apparition had something to do with that tragedy. But the house wasn't even built until one-hundred sixty years after that hideous event, and if she remembered correctly, the old journal she'd read indicated that it took place a couple of miles to the north of the Collins estate.

Okay, so maybe this was an Indian trader, or maybe one of those forced

into slave labor during that period, who'd died on the property, if not in this house. The Old House, after all, had begun with a two-room cabin built before 1700. (All the expansion and fancy work, Barnabas told her, had commenced in the 1760's.) All that still didn't explain the painful unhappiness he generated.

Cellie went in for another look. He stood, regarding her with a baleful

expression, which reminded her of Willie when he first woke from his horrible

dream. He opened his mouth, and she could barely hear his voice. "Help find

him. Help find him." He pointed at a door in the back of the room.

"Help find whom? Or what?" Cellie said, in a weary voice. "I'm looking

for children, myself."

"Children. All gone," he continued, in a mournful tone. "Find him." Still pointing at the door, the Indian slowly faded away, and his sorrow with him.

It was as if a storm cloud had lifted. Cellie could "see" blue violet all around the room. She stumbled over the piled books, to the door in the back. "Lew! Adele!" she yelled. "It's your Aunt Cellie. I know you're in there. Don't be afraid to open the door. Nobody's going to hurt you."

The door opened. Adele, holding Lew by the hand, stepped out of what was a small closet. Lew had an angry-looking red mark on his arm, and was sniffling with pain and fear. "Oh, geez," Cellie said, "A spider bit you. We've got to get you out of here right away."

Willie and David appeared in the doorway when they heard her call. Adele was sobbing quietly. Cellie signalled to David. He stepped in carefully, and took the younger girl's hand. Adele stopped crying immediately. "Ah, the power of Love, " Cellie thought, wryly. Willie edged in next, and lifted his nephew over the books. Then he came back, and helped his wife out of the room.

In a few minutes, they'd hooked up with Barnabas and Roger, and five minutes later, everyone was in the drawing room. Fran and Steve hovered over

Julia as she was treating Lew's arm. "Lucky he didn't have a massive allergic reaction from this. I don't have enough of the right kind medicine with me to take care of it." She bandaged the red welt, then turned to Adele. "Are you okay? No bites or scratches?"

"No, Doctor Collins, I just got my dress dirty."

"Call me Aunt Julia. We're family now, you know. I know what would make both you and Lew feel better. You stay here with your Mom and Dad, and we'll bring you whatever you like to eat, right here."

Adele said, in her shy way, "Please, I'd like the fried chicken. The legs."

Lew said, "Could I have a plate full of stuffed shells, please?"

Fran commented to her sister-in-law, "Well, Cellie, I guess that means

they're back to normal." She patted the younger woman's belly. "This is just a sample of what you're in for," she continued, "especially if Junior here takes after his Daddy any. We were always looking for Willie, 'specially if there were chores to be done. He was off climbing trees, running into town, whatever, just to get away." She sighed. "There was a lot to get away from, I admit, but he'd get so snotty about it. He really has changed a lot. No snottiness left in him at all,I must say."

Cellie said, "It's not entirely my doing, you understand. He had some kind of life-changing thing happen to him when he first got here, but he won't tell me what it was. Or can't. He must have told you he's had some problems since he's been here."

"I've heard some things. Well, it's all in the past now. You're the best thing that's ever happened to him. And you're so brave! Going into that creepy room alone."

"I just had to, I guess. It worked out. I got the kids out just in time, it seems."

"Yeah, Mommy, she saved us from the ghost!" This from Lew.

"He was an Indian. Just like the one in those pictures of the first Thanksgiving." said Adele. "But he was nice, Lew. He was just lookin' for somebody."

"Oh, God," Steve said, exasperated. "Now their imaginations are running wild. Ghosts and whatnot. That friend of yours, that David, he's got something to answer for. I heard what he was telling them before."

Cellie temporized, "I told him off myself at the time, Steve. He didn't

mean for them to run off like that, at least not unless he was going with them. And he wasn't about to, after I chewed him out. Those old stories are just a part of living here. You must have stories about all those old houses in Vermont, maybe even about your house."

"Well, yes, a couple, anyway, but we don't share 'em with the little ones."

"We heard all about the White Lady, Daddy, " said Adele. "I know Cellie musta seen the Indian. She talked to him."

"I was talking to Will and David, and yelling for you," Cellie said firmly. "Maybe I was concentrating so hard, I was talking to myself a little. I just have one question. If you didn't get in through the drawing room panel, or the locked door upstairs, how did you get in there?"

"Oh, we went up into a bedroom with a flowery wallpaper. Lew leaned against the wall, and it opened like magic."

Carolyn and Elizabeth looked at each other in dismay. Elizabeth exclaimed, "Maggie's old bedroom! I forgot all about that panel! I'll have it shut permanently, right away. I'm so sorry."

"No great harm done," Steve concluded. "Hey, Fran," he said, "You go in

and eat. I'll sit with the kids till you're back. I'm not letting 'em out of my sight again tonight."

Willie led Cellie to the dining room. "I guess now I have to worry about another of your spirit friends, " he sighed. "Nothing's just as simple as just having a party, around here. Well, you've got to build up your strength. You grab all the vegetables first, you hear me? You and the baby need the vitamins."

Cellie laughed for the first time in hours. "I can go into a haunted room, talk to a ghost and rescue your niece and nephew, but you don't trust me to choose cauliflower over cake."

* * * * * * * * * * *

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

On a warm, Spring-like afternoon two weeks later, Hallie Stokes came to

the Antique Shoppe to visit Cellie. Dr. Hurley had recommended Cellie take long walks every day if possible, so Barnabas gave her an extra hour off in the afternoon, in addition to the time she required for her tutored lessons. Hallie always came at least twice a week to walk with her when nobody else was available. (Neither Willie nor Barnabas liked Cellie to walk alone, and Cellie got bored when she had to

trudge around by herself anyway.)

The two girls set off in the direction of the Koffeehaus. Their usual routine was to walk around the block twice, stop in for a visit with Pavlos and a cup of his coffee (Cellie, who had limited her intake to two cups a day, made a ritual of having one with her husband in the morning, and one with Pavlos in the afternoon), and then heading back. Cellie was showing Hallie the birth announcement and note from Margene, that had arrived that morning.

"Marcus Cecil Sherbrook. The 'Cecil' part is for me, she says. I wonder how many kids are named 'Cecil' nowadays?"

"I'm just surprised they let her put Marcus's last name on the birth certificate, when they won't be married for another five weeks."

"Oh, I heard it's okay, as long as the father comes to the hospital to give his consent. I'd give anything to be able to go to Maryland for the christening, but we have to save that money we got at our wedding. We may go for a weekend, though, to Booth Bay or someplace." Cellie studied the picture of baby Marcus. "You'll have to help me pick out a swell christening gift, anyway. I wish I could see the little guy up close and personal. He's a cutie."

"A big cutie. Eight pounds and fourteen ounces. It's hard to imagine

something that big inside of one. And she had it the regular way." Hallie

shuddered. "Aren't you afraid, Cellie?"

"Of course I'm afraid. I'm afraid of the blood tests I get every

month--- I didn't know THAT was one of the rules of the baby game! But I'll deal with it when I get to it. I'm going to take those Lamaze heavy breathing classes, but if it's too miserable, you can bet I won't be shy about asking for some heavy drugs, man." Cellie saw her friend was upset, so she changed the subject. She started to tell Hallie about her plans to beautify the back yard at the Shoppe.

"Mrs. Stoddard gave me a pile of summer bulbs to plant around the back walkway. Will's got to get some trowels and fertilizer. There'll be Dahlias and Lilies out there by the end of July."

Hallie said, "She does have quite an array of different plants up at Collinwood. Did she or David ever take you through her greenhouse? It's small, but it's packed. She does most of the greenhouse work herself. I guess she really got into it when she had all those years of not leaving the estate. But she's kept it up."

Cellie replied, "Not yet. And you know that the greenhouse isn't high on David's list of guided tours. Not enough spiders in there."

Hallie laughed. "I don't think he'll ever grow out of that stuff, do you?"

"I'm not sure his father has, if some of the stories David tells are true. I've heard that picking on governesses was a favorite family sport up there."

"That's certainly true. David's not a bad person, but he certainly gave Maggie and that other girl who was up there, that Vicky Winters, a run for their money. I guess it all had to do with his mother. David must have told you something about her." Cellie nodded. Getting David to talk about his mother, Laura, was like pulling teeth.

Hallie continued, "He didn't see her for years, then she came back for

a while, then she left again, for good. There's a bizarre story behind that, too, something about a fire she set. When he told me the story, I got the impression she was dead. And his dad didn't treat him too well at first, but after the mother went away or died, or whatever, Mr. Collins mellowed out quite a bit toward David. Then, Mr. Collins married again, briefly." Cellie hadn't heard about that yet. "But from what I understand, that was a major disaster from the beginning. You can see where David might have picked up a negative attitude toward women. But he loves his aunt and his cousin, and he likes us."

"I always wonder why David wants me to pick out girls for him to date.

I mean, I don't mind helping him out--" (Cellie was gradually breaking the truth of her "condition" to Hallie) "--but it's like he's afraid to make the choice himself. It's like he needs a human buffer to soften the sting of rejection for him when things don't work out. Like this last time, with Annette Cadieux. When she gave up on him, I had some heavy phone work, consoling him. " It seemed like everyone needed her to soften things for them, Cellie reflected. Willie needed help to control his temper. Barnabas needed someone to ease his secret shame. Hallie had needed her to blaze a trail into the hinterland of real life. Of the four, only Hallie had progressed beyond the need for shielding.

"I know there's someone out there for David," Hallie said. "Maybe

he'll find her when he least expects it. Like I did." She blushed.

"So, you and Paul really hit it off, huh? You two got a lot accomplished in three days."

"How long did it take before you knew Willie was the one?"

"Geez, I think within ten minutes of our first conversation. Maybe even before that. I was standing in Aunt Jule's living room, listening to Will and

Barnabas hassling out whether Will could stay for dinner, and I was trying to figure him out, then he looked at me in this funny way, and, well, flick. That was it. I can't explain it."

"I guess I had a 'flick' with Paul, too."

"I saw that Mafia movie, and you know what the men in the movie called it? The 'thunderbolt.' If the way Will acted when we got together was any indication, I'd say that was an apt description." Cellie laughed, but she remembered how it was during her very first experience with Willie---his hesitation, her encouragement. He sure made up for it right after, though, she thought, a regular thunderstorm.

Hallie turned dark red, and said, a bit irritably, "It's not like that with Paul. We just had a nice time walking around together, and we kissed and hugged. He's just really a nice guy."

Cellie refrained from fuming. Hallie was pretty innocent, far more innocent than Cellie had been, even before she got so involved with Willie. That Paul may have been almost as innocent in some ways. (Cellie wondered how much he knew about the incidents that took place in his family before he was old enough to remember.) She had a few conversations with her bright new brother-in-law in those three days. Paul was happy to discuss his plans for the future, which included a choice between returning to the University of Vermont, or transferring to Bennington. "I used to want to go away, and Bennington is some distance from our town," he said. "But, I'm about to go so far away now. Maybe, if--- when I get back, I won't want to stray too far from home ever again."

Cellie had a rainbow spell then; there was a swirl of mauve-grey mist rising around him. It was almost like a premonition. She'd never actually had one before; it could just have been the fatalistic attitude he emanated. She asked, "Paul, are you okay? Is there a problem I can help you with?"

He appeared genuinely surprised. "Problem? Oh, not really, Cellie. I'm just tired from worrying about the necessity of going. You can understand that. Don't fret for me, I have survival strategies in mind. I have no doubt I'll be coming back on my own two feet, not feet first. . . You know, I just decided, it would be silly to hide out on the farm, after I'm back for good. Bennington's very upbeat and rather cool, or so I've heard. Maybe I'll transfer there, after all."

"Well, okay. But if you ever need to talk, and it's something you can't mention to Hallie. . . I'm a good listener. Just ask your brother."

Paul smiled at her now, all inner as well as outer traces of his distress having vanished. "I'll think about it. Thank God, Willie finally picked a nice girl. That last fiancee he brought home. . ." He shook his head. "Take good care of Hallie for me, until I get back, anyway. Please?" Cellie was as moved by his sincere tone, as she was by the bright red light he emanated.

She snapped back to the present. "Well, Hallie, we won't argue about it. If I had the same attitude, I might not have ended up in such a jam. But, really, when you finally come to that pass, it's not, you know, shameful or disgusting or anything. It's not all grand and glorious, either, but it's nice. It's even fun, when you get used to it." She felt her own face turning hot. "I mean, when it's the right person, and you're married, if that's what you want."

Hallie sighed. "Well, it's going to be quite a while before I find out, one way or the other. Paul already left to go overseas. He's got my address, and I have an Army Post Office address, to start us off. Even then, we won't be able to hash it out in the mail too much. I guess they still have censors or something, right?"

"I'm not up on that stuff. Maybe. But I wouldn't worry too much, unless they send him on a secret mission. That's not what he's there for, anyway."

Hallie began to cry. "It's what he's there for that does worry me. Just another body to stop a bullet, or take the brunt of a landmine, so somebody more important can go on ahead. Oh, Cellie, I love Paul so much already. If he---if something happens to him, I don't know what I would do."

Cellie embraced her friend on the steps of Pavlos's place, and asked, "You didn't get one of your special dreams about him, did you?" (Hallie, responding to Cellie's example, was emboldened into sharing the knowledge of HER particular gift with her friend.)

"No, at least not yet. I almost hate getting those dreams, they're usually full of bad omens, anyway." Hallie continued, "It would help if I could tell Uncle Elliot about how I feel. He knows I'm going to write to Paul, and he's not too thrilled about that, as it is. He says 'Not another Loomis.' Like it's a rash or something. Paul's not like Willie. I don't mean that in an insulting way, Cellie."

"No, Paul's definitely not just 'another Loomis,' " Cellie commented. She thought, "He may not even be a Loomis at all." To Hallie, she said, "Paul wasn't raised in the same home, or in the same way. He never knew his father, not in the same way Will did. His mother, and Steve and Fran, helped make sure he was okay. You've got to keep talking with your uncle, even share some of those letters with him. He understands what you're going through. Look at what just happened to him. And yet, he's moving on."

Hallie dried her tears. "I'm glad he's interested in Mrs. Texeira. I was so worried about him when he broke up with your aunt. Maybe it'll all work out for the best. And I guess I can talk to her if I can't with my uncle. For now, anyway."

Pavlos poked his head out the huge, oaken door decorated with the

stained-glass, house-shaped picture of a coffee cup and saucer. "Little Flame! Cellie, I mean. And Sunflower Hallie. Come on in. Your coffees are waiting for you, and you must meet the members of the band playing tonight." He studied Hallie's face. "We'll have to talk about your troubles. That damned war, thank God it is nearly over. People make enough misery for themselves, without some old men in these different countries adding to them."

* * * * * * * * * * *

Cellie's tutor for English and History, Mrs. Johansen, was giving her pupil a report on her progress. "For someone in your situation, Cecily, you've almost gone beyond the requirements you need to meet for graduation. Instead of giving you more tests in the subjects prior to your final exam, I'm going to assign you a term paper instead. The subject must concern American history, and you must follow all the rules for writing research papers we went over in English class. This will cover both requirements. It's due at the end of May. I expect a statement of subject and purpose when we meet next week, and please begin an outline."

After Mrs. Johansen left the kitchen of the Antique Shoppe, Cellie went looking for Barnabas. She had begun to enjoy spending time talking with him again, as in the old days before the ugly incident in February, and he had been showering her with more favorable attention than before. He was taking a break, on the red velvet settee, drinking a cup of the milder coffee Cellie provided for the non-espresso mavens. "I'm pleased that the business has returned to normal," he said, "but it's pleasant just to have a few minutes to unwind, before the next batch of customers arrives.

So, you're through with your lesson for the day?"

"Yes. Mrs. J. wants me to do a term paper, in lieu of more tests. It's kind of a bummer, because it's no problem for me to take time to study for a test---you study, you take it, it's over in a day."

"Well, Cellie, if you expect to attend the University someday, you must be prepared for that sort of work. Besides, someone as intelligent as yourself should welcome a mental challenge."

"Oh, I'm not complaining about actually having to write a term paper. It's not like I've never done one before. I just never had to do one when I was pregnant and married and working almost full-time before."

"As the expression goes, Cellie, 'Those are the breaks.' I'm sure many

other women have had to struggle with conflicting demands, and have come through it all magnificently. As I'm sure you will. Have you a subject in mind already? If it's historical, you know I'm always available to assist you in any way I can."

"I don't know. I have a lot to choose from. I'll tell you, if it didn't hit so close to home, I'd love to write something about the Indians of this area."

"You're thinking about the apparition you saw at your reception, aren't you?"

"Well, yes, but not just him. I wish I knew who he was and what he's all about, of course, but I was thinking in larger terms, like when we talked about the general relationship between the Native people, and the European settlers, that one time. I heard about a new book that just came out, about all the rotten things that were done to the Indians. I could write about balancing the legitimate needs and claims of both the whites and the Indians. I guess conquest and taking over new territory is part of practically every culture." She was also, at that moment, thinking of Paul, over in Vietnam. Some things never changed, she thought.

"It's all in how a group goes about it, that counts," Barnabas said. "It really doesn't take much to induce a normally mild-mannered people into becoming savage brutes, intent on pursuing their agenda at the expense of all rational behavior." He stopped for a minute, his face turning red. Cellie figured he was suddenly reminded of his own descent into irrationality. She patted his hand, and smiled into his eyes. Without his even realizing it, she was working on him. He recovered, and continued. "Moral superiority has nothing to do with it. It largely depends on what the conquerors expect from the vanquished foes. There have been many bloodless coups and conquests, where intimidation was the primary weapon, and the tributes collected from less-powerful governments were the primary rewards. But that seems to work best when there is little cultural difference between the conquerors and their subjects."

"So, a system like that couldn't have worked between the whites and the Indians, I guess."

"Oh, there were compromises, treaties, and informal agreements. They

could have worked, I suppose. But the white men had the upper hand by this time, and with the least provocation, often saw fit to violate these attempts at civilized cooperation at the first opportunity. There were skirmishes and massacres on both sides, though what the whites did to the Indians in retaliation was far out of proportion to the Indians' offenses. Things settled down eventually. Many surviving Natives simply relocated themselves, down South and out West. Others accepted the status quo, and wove themselves into the fabric of the society that had formed up here. It's a tragedy, of course, but, if you compare it with the dramatic events that took place in the West in the mid-1800's, it took such a long time for everything to happen, that the tragedy almost seems diffused."

"I can see it's a huge subject, of and by itself," Cellie commented. "I'd like to localize it. Whatever you have covering this area, I'd appreciate using it. I'll dedicate my efforts to that sad fellow in the storage room. I'd love to go back in there. There were more books in there than in the stack room at the library."

"There were quite a few scholarly members of the family who may have accumulated those books," Barnabas said. "Unfortunately, they don't figure as prominently in the family history as the merchants and the political figures. We even had our social reformers. Several members of the Collins family joined the Quakers in the 1820's, and it's said that a small cottage on my portion of the property was a stop on the Underground Railroad. It's a nice little house with a suspiciously odd-shaped cellar. I was thinking of having it renovated. Perhaps someday you and Willie might be interested in living up there after the baby comes."

"I'd move in a New York minute, but I doubt Will would want to. I don't know why. I kind of miss having a real living room, with a sofa I can just fling myself into. We need the extra room upstairs for the baby."

Barnabas replied, "Well, sometimes you must respect your husband's

wishes. If you don't mind my asking, Cellie, how are you two doing? I just catch glimpses of your interaction with each other, but I try not to watch you. I don't want to interfere, but I, and your aunt, will always be concerned about what happens to you. And Willie, also, to a certain extent."

"Everything's okay, Barnabas, don't worry. Will's been extremely good

to me. I hope he thinks I'm extremely good to him."

"By the exalted way he talks about you to anyone who'll stay long enough to listen, I'd say he does." Barnabas thought he would have been able to tell if Willie had shared their unpleasant mutual history with his bride. He doubted Cellie would have been as open and affectionate with him if Willie had told her anything.

Just then, two customers came in, and Barnabas rose, and offered his hand to Cellie, who followed. She served the man and woman some espresso, and some lemon meringue pie she'd made the night before. She found out they were engaged, and were looking for some useful knicknacks. She directed them towards some odd-shaped tables, and elaborately beaded lamps, made a sale, and reported back to her uncle. Barnabas was pleased; the carved end-table, a fancy lamp, and a Victorian brass picture frame went for over a hundred and fifty dollars, in cash, and no haggling. "That's better than I hoped for, this late in the afternoon," he told Cellie. "You should take a rest, my dear. Carolyn will be back in a few minutes."

"Well, I need to stop at the Superette. We need more flour and eggs, and Will makes me drink gallons of milk like there's no tomorrow," Cellie said. "I suggested we move to his sister's dairy farm and eliminate the middle man. I told him, if we did, instead of a dog, I wanted a pet calf. He got the queasiest look on his face, and I felt pretty nauseated myself. Okay, it was a dopey joke. But he sure gets squeamish over the oddest things."

Barnabas turned from her, and winced. He remembered some of the distasteful things he'd forced Willie to do early in their association. The calves---Willie was no animal lover, but he'd hated having to steal the helpless creatures, until Barnabas had discovered a fresh human source for his nourishment. He was at a loss, wondering how he'd ever explain all this to his niece someday. He often wondered how Cellie would react to the fact that he was uneasy at first when she called Willie "Will" in his presence---

a reminder to Barnabas of a tragic encounter he'd had with someone who was very much like, and yet, not like, Willie. Mercifully, THAT sensation was ebbing gradually, but that was still a story that had to be told, when the time was right. . . If the time was EVER right. . .

"Barnabas? I know something's not--" Cellie was suddenly extremely

uncomfortable; she picked up great, vibrating green waves of shame from her uncle. They appeared to her as a thicket of bushes, that if she could only part them and peek in--- then it vanished. This was all of a piece, she thought, with her husband's bad dreams (he had at least one a week, though she had become able to intercept them, to avoid getting in his way when he flailed about) and her aunt's evasiveness. Why couldn't they trust her? Did they think she'd love them any less? Or did they all think she was so weakened by pregnancy that she couldn't handle the truth? The hiding, she felt, made it worse for her, since they kept generating these painful inner eruptions.

Willie walked by, at that moment, carrying a box, and caught the sight of his wife looking flushed and dizzy, while Barnabas was looking away. "Cecily? Are you okay?" he asked, putting down the box. Barnabas turned back quickly.

"I'm alright. I just got a little woozy," Cellie replied quietly.

"I was just telling her to take the rest of the afternoon off," Barnabas explained, almost apologetically.

"I wanted to go to the store," Cellie said.

"You're going upstairs," Willie said. "I'm going up, to sit with her for a while. Can I leave this stuff here?" He indicated the box. Barnabas nodded. Willie walked Cellie up to their room.

She looked up at him from her pillow, as he laid a cold, wet cloth on her hot head. "Will, why can't anyone tell me what's going on here? I'm not Lew or Adele. I can handle the truth. Not telling the truth---that's what hurts."

He said nothing, just stroked her face and hair. She sensed his anguish, buthis desire to tell her was held in that invisible cage.

* * * * * * * * * * *

A few days later, early one morning, Cellie was reading the paper when an announcement caught her eye. She circled the paragraph, intending to show it to Barnabas. She dressed and went downstairs to the kitchen, where Willie was already making breakfast. "I thought I told you to stay put in bed for a while longer every morning," he said. "I was just about to bring us a tray."

"Oh, I'm fit as a fiddle, Will. I just read something I wanted to show Barnabas the instant he came in." They both sat at the table and ate. After they washed the dishes, Cellie went into the showroom, paper in hand, to await her uncle. Barnabas soon arrived, accompanied by Julia, which was a pleasant surprise to Cellie. Julia seldom came to the Antique Shoppe at any time, and it was the middle of the week, when she usually was at work.

"Aunt Jule," Cellie said, hugging her. "What are you doing here? Playing hooky from WindCliff?"

"No, Cellie. I had a couple of appointments and errands to run, so I took a personal day. Want to go out to lunch with me, later?"

"You're not going with Barnabas?"

"No, he has to go out of town this afternoon."

Barnabas chimed in, "Take the time, Cellie. Carolyn will be in shortly,

and I need Willie for this trip anyway."

"Oh, Barnabas," Cellie said, "I almost forgot! I have to show you the paper."

"I've seen it, already."

"Not the Collinsport Star. This is a paper from Bangor. Look here in the announcements. It says a big museum in Bangor is looking for contributions for an exhibit on early life in Maine. You've told me you might leave some of your things to a museum eventually, anyway, but I thought you might enjoy having them displayed and appreciated while you're still around to see it. And it would be just for six weeks, so you'd have them back in, like, no time."

"I'm sure they've got some people lined up already, to display the rustic ware."

"I was thinking about showing how the other half lived back then. People think of Maine and all they imagine are fishermen, lumberjacks, and the like. You could show them some nice stuff that's really been here for two hundred years. Why don't you loan them some things from Josette's room?" Bodyslam! Cellie gasped quietly, as a confused series of colors emanated from Barnabas, and, at the same time, a pale flicker of spring green surrounded Julia. Cellie felt ill, from her uncle's dismay, and her aunt's quiet hope.

"I'll have to think about it, Cellie. The--ah--collection hasn't broken up for almost two centuries, and if a piece or two went astray, or was

stolen. . ." Barnabas's voice almost broke.

Julia said, "I'm sure the greatest care would be taken of every item. Look at the great museums in New York or Washington or Boston. They've all displayed a million pieces, and, for the most part, the collections return to their owners intact. It's not as if you had rare paintings or jewelry on display. This place is in Bangor, for goodness' sake. They don't want to raise their insurance risk with shoddy security, any more than you want to lose your possessions."

Barnabas looked at his wife out of the corner of his eye. "It would make some things easier, I suppose," he said, his voice trailing off. Cellie was getting a queer sensation--- Julia was jealous of those pretty things for some reason, and Barnabas was mad as hell about it. That squared it with Julia's loyal niece. Obviously, these mementoes were interfering with her aunt's married life, and they had to go, at least long enough for Barnabas to realize he could live without them.

"Please, Barnabas. Think heavily about it," Cellie insisted. "I know you love that stuff. I love it too, and I would never suggest such a thing if I thought there would be damage or harm to Josette's things. Why, I'll bet most people around the area never even suspected a French countess ever lived around here, although I've heard stories about Marie Antoinette's attempt to come to Maine. Josette was the real thing, and it's high time somebody else knew about it. Okay, it didn't influence American history, but people love those human-interest footnotes to history. You could present her as being as special as I'm sure she was."

"Indeed she was. . ." Barnabas's voice trailed off.

Cellie waited. She wondered if Barnabas suspected she was gauging his reaction. If he did, it evidently didn't faze him, because he made the sensible answer she was looking for.

"I'll consider it. Perhaps a representative sample. . . and I have other, unique things of my own, which deserve a showing. That might be good advertising for the Antique Shoppe."

Cellie couldn't believe she'd wrung that much of a concession from her elusive uncle. She hoped she was doing the right thing. When she looked at her aunt's face, she was almost positive she had.

Willie, who'd observed the whole exchange in silence, wasn't so sure. He didn't think that a certain someone would appreciate having her trinkets in a glass case in some museum forty miles from where they belonged. He'd bet old Josette just wouldn't sit still for that, at all.

* * * * * * * * * * *

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Carolyn arrived at the Antique shoppe a half-hour later. Barnabas and

Willie had already left. Julia was waiting with Cellie; her first appointment wasn't until ten. Cellie had arranged the jewelry in the glass case, and was filling the espresso urn.

Carolyn said, "Well, I guess that takes care of everything I was going to do today."

"I'm getting a sandwich board you can wear, outside on the sidewalk,"

Cellie joked. "Maybe we won't get any customers, but I bet it would make a

great guy magnet. I'd do the job myself, but I'm taken."

Julia wasn't paying attention to the banter. She was worrying about all the things she had to do today. She hoped Barnabas would follow Cellie's suggestion about sending away some of Josette's possessions. Julia had always felt comfortable enough visiting the Old House before their marriage, but now, she often felt like an invader. It wasn't as if Barnabas spent much time in the room. He'd assured her, again and again, that his feelings for the women in his past had faded long ago. He showed her more affection, especially in the past few weeks, than he ever had before. She knew it had to do with relieving his guilt over what he'd done to Willie and Cellie. He became freer, it seemed, when another layer of shame about his former life was peeled back. Perhaps things would improve exponentially when they all settled on a time to tell Cellie the whole truth.

In the meantime, there was a palpable presence about Josette's

room--- if not Josette herself, then some other force intent on creating dissension between Julia and Barnabas. Angelique? Julia wondered, then dismissed the thought. Angelique had died in her mortal state, after performing several acts of great courage and unselfishness, and with Barnabas's gratitude and love in her heart. If she was anywhere, she was where she could expiate the rest of her evil deeds without causing harm to anyone. Perhaps it was Jeremiah, whose emanations had so disturbed Cellie in the first weeks of her residence at the Old House, but Julia thought that was all settled. And what would Jeremiah have against her relationship with Barnabas anyway? The woman over whom they'd fought had died soon after their duel.

Julia looked out the large front window, listening as Cellie was teasing

Carolyn, in an effort to interest her in seeking companionship. It was hard to believe that Cellie was happy with someone like Willie. Yet, their attitude left no doubt about how they felt when they were in each other's company. Cellie was always eager to get people together, to try to make them as happy as she was. Cellie was saying, "I'll bet you the commission from my next sale, that you fall for the next guy who walks in that door."

A dark-haired man in a suit walked into the shoppe. Julia jumped up, recognizing him. "Tony!" she all but shouted. Cellie first, and then Carolyn, rather hesitantly, turned to look in his direction.

Tony Peterson went right up to embrace Julia, and then Cellie, who ran around the jewelry counter, and nearly knocked him over, in her delight. Carolyn hung back, uncertain what to do next.

Tony joked, "I guess I'm in the right place. I'll have to tip the fellow who gave me the directions." First, he spoke to Julia and Cellie. "I hope you and Barnabas are doing well, Julia. And Cellie, I'd like to take this opportunity to congratulate you in person on your recent marriage. I hope everything is working out. Ernest was quite anxious for a while."

"It's really been great, Tone. Will and I confound the critics every day. And, let me thank you again for the swell present. I put your letter in my scrapbook."

Tony looked at the blonde woman still behind the counter. "Hello,

Carolyn, " he said slowly. "It's been a long time."

"Yes, it has. How are you? What are you doing in town? Nothing wrong

with your mother, I hope?" Carolyn asked politely. She didn't mention whatever she'd heard about his engagement and postponed wedding date.

"I'm just fine," he said. "And Mom's very well, and still running the show at the banquet room. If I have half her energy when I reach her age, I'll feel lucky. How are you doing? And your mother?"

"I can't complain. I'm pretty busy, and so's Mother. She's another dynamo. I'd say you and I have a lot to live up to, to keep up with our mothers."

Cellie asked, "So, Tony, what brings you to town?"

Tony said, "Well, it's a kind of a long story. I remember telling you that I was getting a bit tired of big city life, and being just another member of a huge law firm. Well, I made my choice between the job in New York City, and the offer from a firm in this area. As you may have guessed, I've taken the local job. I'm in the process of moving back to town."

"Which law firm?" Carolyn asked, with a wary tone. If her mother was responsible for this, she thought---

"Brownley and Townsend. They're located off the highway, between here and Ellsworth."

"Oh. I've just barely heard of them." Carolyn was relieved. Her mother and Roger did business with a bigger, older law firm, Garner and Associates, in Bangor.

"As it happens, they handle my legal affairs," Julia said. "But I had nothing to do with his hiring. Still, if some of my business passes through Tony's office, I'll know it's in capable hands. He did good work for me before, trying as it sometimes was." She recalled that time, when she'd driven the young lawyer nearly to

distraction, trying to hide her most vital lab notes from Barnabas.

Cellie asked breathlessly, "Will Lee Anne be joining you up here?"

Tony looked at the floor, then at the wall, then in Carolyn's direction.

Cellie saw a swirl of red and pink, with green. She was a little sorry to embarrass her brother's friend. He said, quietly, "Lee Anne won't be coming. I couldn't convince her to leave the Boston area. I can't blame her. She has her own career, and I don't think there's much call for her line of work up here." He sighed. "We kept putting the wedding off. I suppose it's just as well."

Cellie said, sympathetically, "I'm sorry, Tone. I guess everyone has to

follow their own path. Still, this is the place you wanted to be," she said, in a brighter voice, "and you'll surely find what you're looking for." Cellie felt she knew just what he was looking for. It would take a little time before Tony and Carolyn knew it too.

Julia walked to the door. "I have an appointment I can't miss. I'll talk to you later, Tony."

A couple of minutes later, Tony, whom Cellie had convinced to have coffee and pie, rose to leave. He walked to the jewelry counter, where Carolyn had stationed herself. Cellie tactfully retreated to the kitchen. "It's nice to see you again, Carolyn. I'd really like to get together with you, maybe for lunch sometime, and catch up on what's been going on. Or, are you seeing someone right now?"

Carolyn wiped the glass counter, barely looking up at him. "No, I'm not," she replied. "Do you think that's such a good idea, anyway, Tony? I mean, it's been years, and I still remember what happened then."

"I just want to talk to you. I've done a lot of thinking about that time, about how it could have been different. I wanted to contact you numerous times."

"I wasn't exactly letting the grass grow under my feet. I had other relationships. A couple of them were quite interesting, though none of them

worked out, until I met Jeb."

"You got married, about the time I met Lee Anne. And then--"

"You can say it. I can. Jeb was killed soon after, and I saw it."

"I heard you had a bad time for months afterward. I was planning to get married, but I was concerned."

"Thanks for the letters. They did help." She turned her face to him now. "I'm really better now. I have this great business, and friends to fuss over me. I'm sorry, truly sorry, about your engagement breaking up. And I don't hold you entirely responsible for what happened years ago. I was confused about my feelings for you and Barnabas, and that Cassandra was bad news in more ways than one. She's gone forever, thank God. And Barnabas is happily married now, for which I'm glad."

"Wouldn't you even consider a no-pressure, no-strings get-together, in the most public of places?"

Carolyn laughed. "The last I checked, there's really no such thing as no-pressure and no-strings anything. But, what the heck, it wouldn't hurt to go out once. Or twice."

After Tony left, Carolyn and Cellie had a string of customers to deal with. Finally, there was a lull, before Julia came to pick Cellie up for lunch. The two young women were drinking coffee. Carolyn said, "Well, I guess you were right about one thing, Cellie. I did fall for him, once. A long time ago. I'm going to see him, but I don't know about the future."

"As long as you get out of the house with a nice fella, and you both have a good time, don't worry about the future. It'll take care of itself." Cellie then said, apologetically, "I couldn't help but overhear a couple of things you were saying. Who was Cassandra?"

Carolyn turned away. Cellie caught the flashes of old anger, and jealousy. "She was my Uncle Roger's second wife. They were only married for a short time. I'm surprised David didn't tell you about her."

"Believe it or not, there are some things David doesn't even like to talk about with me. He's just starting to tell me about his own mother, and that's a very sore subject with him as it is."

"I just don't know about my Uncle Roger. Or my mother either, for that matter. For people who are so hung up on the family tree, they've both chosen

spouses whose mission in life seems to have been to chop it down! I mean,

I learned to love my own father when he came back for a while before he died,

but when he was younger, the scam he and his friend Jason pulled, trying to rip my mother off, and then, making it look as though she'd killed him, almost ruined her whole life. When he came back, he tried to explain the last part away--- Apparently Jason had as little use for him in the end, as my mother had, so my father fled from HIM, empty-handed and all unknowing about the effect of his departure on Mother's future."

"If your Dad was as much a victim as your Mom, what's the problem?"

"He may have been a victim, and he may have left with a warm spot in his heart for me, but, still, there were all those years when he could have contacted me,at least through some intermediary," Carolyn said bitterly. "When he came back, he had Maggie for that task, in lieu of her late father. We weren't together long before he became extremely sick and disturbed, accusing my mother and others of conspiring against him, and then he was murdered, though not by ANYONE in our family, thank God! It happened after he broke a promise to leave town with me. We were learning to understand each other, so I confused his final actions with his first betrayal."

Cellie asked, "What about the other betrayal? Tell me more about Cassandra."

"My uncle married her after what had to be the tornado of all whirlwind courtships. At first, she was sweet as sugar, but as time went on, she acted like she had it in for all of us. She had some strange power over everyone. She made my mother very ill, with a terrible depression. She pulled some tricks on David. Forget my Uncle. He couldn't even think straight when she was around. It was said she caused Maggie Evans's Dad to go blind. And she found it worthwhile to get her hooks into Tony."

"Why did she do all that?"

"Who knows? Only Barnabas and David's governess at the time, Vicky Winters, had a real clue as to what she was all about. But Cassandra did awful things to them, too, before she was through. And then there was her brother! Or, at least, he said he was her brother, though she wasn't too thrilled to have him around. Nicholas Blair. I suppose he could really have been her ex-husband, or even her real husband. It was obvious he did know a lot about her. Whatever their true connection, after Tony got clear of Cassandra and left town, Nicholas interested himself, first, in Maggie. When he'd managed to ruin her engagement, he suddenly 'discovered' me. I was involved--- well, I was getting to know someone else, and he horned right in on it. After he racked up numerous casualties, he was on his merry way, too. Unfortunately, he turned up again later, like a bad penny. More people were damaged or killed, including my late husband. In a way, Nicholas was also responsible for my father's death as well, though I don't believe they ever met. See, it turned out there was a 'conspiracy' after all. My father was just too confused to trace it to the correct source." Carolyn sighed sadly. "Well, that's almost two years ago, and we haven't seen hide or hair of either Nicholas or Cassandra, since."

"So you thought Tony was out of your life for good and all, then? The otherfriendships didn't last?"

"No. It seems I have a knack for attracting doomed romances. It must be a Collins genetic trait. That's another reason I'm afraid to get close to Tony or anyone. Even if I meet a good and decent man, there's always a fatal flaw, either in him or in me. You know, I was once a young girl like any other, dreaming of the right man coming along and sweeping me off my feet, and then going on to give my mother a housefull of grandchildren. I came close, once or twice. I thought I had everything settled when I married Jeb, but he was a troubled soul from the get-go, and then, he was killed. Except for my first boyfriend, Joe, who was one of the nicest men alive, Tony was the nearest I ever came to getting hooked up with a normal kind of guy. I don't want to mess this up."

Cellie thought for a minute. "You know what this is like? It's just like the two of you came to a fork in the road, and each went their separate way. Well, you each got to a point in where there was a roadblock. There's no way either of you can break it down on your own, but if one of you goes up the path in the middle, maybe one can help the other clear out at least one road. Sooner or later you'd get to where you were originally headed."

Carolyn sighed. "How did you think that up, Cellie? It's almost as if you can read minds or something."

"I'll tell you soon. As soon as you go out with Tony at least once, and it goes okay. You have a right to know some things too. But I don't want to

influence things more than I--- trust me."

"I guess I'll have to." Just then, Julia arrived to pick up her niece.

* * * * * * * * * * *

"And then Carolyn agreed to go out with Tony. Even though it just happened, I have a feeling this is the start of something special." Cellie tapped Julia on the shoulder. "Are you okay, Aunt Jule? You never had trouble driving and talking before. What appointment were you at?"

"I saw Dr. Hurley."

"Is something wrong? Here I am, running off at the mouth, and I don't even stop to consider--" Cellie let herself enter her aunt's emotions. There was a sense of intense frustration and sorrow, and the pale green of hope that flickered weakly. "Aunt Jule, you don't have cancer, do you?"

"No, I'm well enough. Just fatigued." Julia shifted the subject. "Cellie, your empathic ability isn't expanding to include telepathy or clairvoyance, is it?" She hoped not. The truth about her unhappiness wasn't something she felt inclined to share with her niece, at least, not just yet.

Cellie knew when she was being put off, but she didn't have the heart to

call her aunt on it. She answered, "It's hard to say. It's certainly getting easier to 'read' people I couldn't 'read' easily before, like Barnabas. There are times when I believe I might be receiving images as well as just emotions. And as for predicting outcomes, well, as my life experiences increase, I guess I'm more capable of following trends. Like this thing with Carolyn and Tony."

"Is Willie easier to 'read', now that you're married?" Julia, like Barnabas, had some anxiety over how much Willie might tell his wife, before they had a chance to share their viewpoint.

"It's gotten stronger. I'll tell you, it makes it hard to have a decent

argument with someone, when you can feel his temper rise before you even have a chance to say anything. My instinct becomes, 'don't provoke him, don't make him unhappy, don't make him break things.' It's very inhibiting, especially when there are important things we have to hash out, or if I simply want to goad him into doing a task he's been putting off. Maybe part of the problem is, I can't read his mind. When he gets the angry feelings, they could just as easily be directed at Barnabas, or anyone, whether or not the other person is present. The sensation affects me no matter who the real target is."

Julia asked, "I thought you had a way of controlling his angry outbursts."

"Well, I've been spending time with Professor Stokes, and he says, and I agree, that it's really not my place to influence every negative emotion someone generates. That is, if I can judge whether letting it go unchecked will lead to greater harm. And that goes double with a spouse. As long as Will doesn't get so mad, that he might hurt someone else, or himself, I have to stand back while he exercises his right to, ah, express himself."

"You're not afraid of him, are you?"

"No. At least, not while he's conscious. He does have these bad dreams where he lashes out at some horrid person or thing pursuing him. He could,

I suppose, be dreaming about what Barnabas almost did to us, that time, but he

won't tell me. I do have that under control, though. I can sense when a dream comes on, and I can usually get him awake before he thrashes around too much." Cellie sighed. "That much having been said, he really is pretty amiable. We don't have that many disagreements, and most of the time, he lets me run things. He is very gentle with me, very affectionate, and except for those dreams, he hasn't hit me, or even yelled at me. I just don't want him to resent me."

"I don't mind telling you, I have a hard time when I argue with Barnabas. Of course, in his case, it's that, for the most part, he's so unbelievably civilized and polite, I don't like to smear up his rose-colored view of our life, with mundane little details. I must admit, there was a time when he did get terribly angry about--- well, things that are no longer troubling us. The main issue we have to deal with now, is his attachment to reminders of the past. I suppose you might have noticed," Julia said, cautiously, "that in spite of his cultured ways, and vast knowledge of the

world and how it works, that Barnabas has what one might call a

'Collins-centric' slant on things."

Cellie commented, "I noticed that whenever we talk about history, for instance, he manages to relate almost everything back to some event in the family record. But, it's not like he's narrow-minded, or anything. Maybe the Collins family is a genuine microcosm of every high and low in human history."

"That's been my experience, trekking through time with him," Julia replied. "I'm sure there are plenty of incidents that took place here that can be compared to some important or essential happenstance of human existence."

" 'History is made up of the essence of innumerable biographies'," Cellie quoted. "I read that somewhere. I keep forgetting to quote that to Barnabas. There's plenty of Collins biographies to work with, God knows. How that family dwindled to a small handful of individuals, now there's a mystery, though I guess it wouldn't be the first time something like that happened. I hope David and Carolyn put in their contributions before they're through." Cellie got another uncomfortable jolt of emotion from her aunt. "Aunt Jule, are you really okay? We don't have to go out to eat, if you don't feel up to it. I'll drive us back to the Shoppe, and you can lay down in our room."

Julia replied, sadly, "No, I am in good health. I have a lot on my mind though. Please, don't press me." She parked the Beetle in the Collinsport Inn parking lot. All through the drive, she had let her mind drift, recalling Dr. Hurley's words.

She'd said, "I can sympathize with your desire to have a child. Even at this late date, it's still possible, though quite risky. Still, you're healthy, as far as I can tell, and I know you, yourself, were the product of a late-life pregnancy, so there doesn't seem to be a family history of problems in that area. I would recommend that your husband come in for a check-up, though."

Julia had replied, a little too quickly, "He has his own physician, who pronounced him to be in equally good health. And, as far as I know, there haven't been any birth defects in his family tree, of which, I assure you, he has extensive knowledge." Was that ever the truth, she thought ruefully.

"Well, then, I don't know what else I can do for you, Julia. They've developed some fertility drugs that have shown promise, but, aside from the fact that they're expensive and that you would have to travel to undergo the regimen, perhaps to Boston, I'm not too enthusiastic about recommending them. They may have unintended side effects, and there's a good chance they wouldn't work in your case. I could design a schedule to follow. That's something I would have to ask you to bring your husband in to discuss. It's quite a commitment, though it shouldn't be too arduous for a healthy couple."

"My husband is a very shy fellow when it come to discussing such intimate matters." Even with me, Julia almost said. And if Barnabas agreed to the whole project, she wondered herself what the consequences would be, what with his own rather peculiar health history, if they managed to have a child. But the yearning to have his baby was fierce in her.

Dr. Hurley must have guessed at her thoughts, for she said, "It's hard to say what would be the right thing to do in your case. It must be difficult, now that you've finally married whom you believe to be the right man, to accept that you may not be able to do the other thing you want the most."

"I didn't know I wanted a child this much until I married Barnabas. When I was engaged to Elliot, I tried to talk him out of his own family plans. And yet, if we had married and I left it up to him, you probably could have scheduled both Cellie and myself for consecutive appointments, so that we could have shared a ride. We might even have been roommates in the maternity ward."

Dr. Hurley smiled. "Well, do talk to your husband. The time is growing shorter for you, but this isn't something you have to make a final decision about for a couple of months, at any rate."

Julia hoped the time would be right, when some of Josette's things were removed from their house, and when they felt easy in their minds about sharing the truth with her niece. Neither Julia or Barnabas really understood why it was so, but they knew a greater peace each time they allowed Cellie a little more information about their secret. In spite of her efforts to control her ability (both Julia and Elliot had even been teaching Cellie a form of self-hypnosis, toward this end) Cellie unconsciously emanated a sense of reassurance, even a healing power. Julia thought she might tell Cellie about her problem, after all. But when it came to the other, bigger secret, she experienced the same spiritual paralysis as Barnabas and Willie. Still, her niece was the one person to whom the truth must be told.

Now, in the parking lot of the Collinsport Inn, Julia turned to Cellie, her spirits lifting. Cellie must have been working on her, Julia thought. When that girl was around, Julia felt, there was time to salvage everything.

"You feel better now," Cellie said. It was a statement, not a question.

"That, I do," Julia replied. "Thank you. I don't know how I ever got

along without you."

"For now, you won't have to find out. Now let's get in there," Cellie said, indicating the Inn. "I'm eating for at least two. Two hundred, that is. Me and the baby, and everyone else who requires my services."

* * * * * * * * * * *

CHAPTER TWENTY

Cellie rose early one morning, with the intention of fixing breakfast, and bringing it upstairs to share with her husband. She turned on the radio, to her favorite all-request station, the one she used to call to dedicate songs to Willie. The station seemed to have access to a never-ending supply of records, dating back to the fifties, but the callers always seemed to zero in on a solid twenty or so songs. At this moment, the D.J., Bangor Bob, or, as he himself pronounced it, "Bangah Bawb" (every time he announced his name, Cellie giggled uncontrollably), was playing what had to be everyone's favorite of all time, the most-requested song in radio history. Cellie sang along.

"My folks were always puttin' him down

They said he came from the wrong side of town. . .

That's when I fell for

The leader of the pack."

Okay, she thought, Will would never be the leader of anything, but the

next verse described him to the letter:

"They all told me

that he was bad,

but I knew he was just sad. . ."

The next song was much prettier.

"Follow me up and down

all the way, and all around.

Take my hand and say you'll follow me."

Cellie felt a delicate sensation, as though a down feather had brushed

against her arm. "Will?" she asked the air. Then she turned around.

Sarah Collins stood before her, her nimbus of white mist dispersing. Cellie reached out, trying to touch Sarah back, but she felt just a warmth surrounding her hand. Sarah said, "I missed you so. I knew they brought you home, but I was afraid in case they changed their minds and sent you away again. I didn't want to come back until I heard you sing. Then I would know everything was as it should be."

"Nobody's going to change their minds. I'm home, and I'm not ever going

to leave here again, unless my husband wants to move away."

"Don't worry. He won't let Willie go, even if Willie wants to."

"Who won't let Will go?"

"You know who. You know who."

"You mean Barnabas? Good heavens, this isn't the Old South. Will isn't

a slave, and neither am I. How silly."

"You're SUPPOSED to know. It's so important. Because you have seen

another like me."

"The Indian? What am I supposed to know? Who's supposed to tell me?"

"My brother helped bring you back, you know. I told him he had to."

"So you met up with your brother at last. I thought it was a law, or something, that spirits couldn't cross bodies of water. How nice for you that you worked that out, but what has he to do with me?" Cellie was completely lost. Sarah couldn't mean--or could she? Cellie tried to tell herself the youthful spirit was just confused.

"You're not cross with me, are you?" Sarah pleaded.

"Never. We're buds forever," Cellie said, fervently.

"We're flowers? Is that what you mean? My brother used to say I was

the prettiest flower at Collinwood."

"Not exactly. Buds is a new-fashioned word for friends. There are other words--- pals, mates. We're more than pals, but we're not together enough to be mates. You get it?"

"I think I understand. We're tight togeth