Uusal disclaimers apply. Janet's characters, not making any money, just playing for awhile. I'll put everybody back where they belong when I'm finished. Also included are two songs, by Heartland and Peter Cetera. Not making any money off of those either.

Prologue

April

Ice crept down the back of my scalp, only to congeal in a frozen lead weight at the base of my neck. My eyes burned, and I had no idea how much time had elapsed since I last blinked. Maybe that was it—something was wrong with my eyes. I blinked against the hot sandpaper feel under my lids, and glared at the thing I had instinctively thrown against the far wall of the bathroom. My breath shuddered into my lungs, and I slowly circled around to the far side of the sink. Bombs, dismembered body parts, snakes, spiders—even homicidal maniacs I had learned to handle with some aplomb. My undoing on this rain-spattered morning was an innocent looking white plastic stick. Unfortunately, I had reason to believe the plastic stick wasn't nearly as innocent as it looked. Squinting down at the tiny lettering, the stick seemed to practically glow with two four-letter-words in a row: "Preg" and "Nant." My breath left me in a whoosh, and I sat down hard on the edge of the tub as my stomach started performing some demented form of calisthenics.

After giving in to a few minutes of stupor, I intentionally pushed the ramifications of the damn white stick firmly out of my mind, and my leaden backside off the tub. Work. I had to get ready for work. There would be plenty of time to figure out everything else that I was frantically stuffing down beneath the surface, but for right now, I would concentrate on going to work. Work would keep me busy and distracted and maybe by tonight I would have a plan. Or even an idea. A clue? Even better, maybe I would wake up to find the white plastic stick had only been a nightmare figment of my still-Catholic and therefore eternally guilty subconscious.

I'm sure Connie and Lula spoke to me, and I guess I answered them, but the normal office banter washed over me in an unintelligible wave. It had started in the car, when the Cooper had monotonously intoned "Pregnant, Pregnant, Pregnant," with every swipe of the wipers. Unfortunately, the litany was still playing loudly inside my head, and nothing from the outside world could penetrate. Finally, Lula's "Girl, you don't look so good," got through. Mumbling an excuse about coming down with something, I grabbed the new skip files from Connie's desk and bolted out the door before either friend could start asking questions I wasn't ready to answer.

I couldn't seem to get enough air in my lungs, so I left the Cooper at the curb, and walked around the block to try to clear my head. When I got to the alley side, I slammed nose-first into a black wall that resolved itself into Ranger's chest as I blinked my vision clear.

"Babe."

Not what I wanted to hear right now. It was just too close to another four-letter word I didn't want to think about yet. "Hey," I said, trying to sound normal, and apparently failing miserably.

"What is it?"

I shook my head mutely. I wasn't up to talking at the moment. I felt his strong fingers nudge my chin upward to look into his dark eyes. Without warning, the tears that had been struggling to the surface all morning spilled over. I felt his arms move around me, and his lips close gently on mine. The heat blossomed between us like it always did, and I felt warm for the first time since daybreak. I told myself it was just for a moment. It was okay to stand here and just bask in the warmth for this one moment, a moment stolen out of time. It was okay to just enjoy the feeling, with no worries about later, just take this one moment and savor it.

I don't know how long we had been standing locked in an embrace when some small sound must have broken our reverie. I looked past Ranger's shoulder to see Joe backing slowly out of the alleyway. His eyes wide, and his face bleached white with shock; he seemed to be receding down a tunnel in front of my eyes, even as my hand rose to reach out for him. "Joe, wait!"

I don't remember moving, but somehow I was standing in front of the bond office, pulling on the sleeve of Joe's jacket. He whirled to face me, and his face had lost its white pallor and was rapidly turning red. The warm brown eyes I thought I knew in every mood and emotion had turned hard and broken, staring through me, past me. "I'm through," he said to the empty air near my left ear, then turned to walk away.

"NO!" I meant to scream it, but it came out broken and lost and trembling.

"I am not your consolation prize, Stephanie," he bit out. "I won't be your stand in because you can't have the man you really want. You want him? You got him. Go on." He turned and was gone.

I felt the blood pounding through my head, and with every beat of my heart came a picture of Joe. Joe at eight in his father's garage, the sunlight streaming through the dirty window to illuminate our game of choo choo. Joe in middle school, all teeth and elbows, but still devastating to a Stephanie in braids and braces. Joe the jock in high school, with the girls buzzing around him like flies. Joe's face in the light of the Tasty Pastry case, eyes hot as his body moved over mine for the first time. A million Joes—trying not to laugh at my grandmother, exasperated with Albert Kloughn but determined to get him to the church to marry my sister. Joe in a bar fight to rescue Lula and Sally. Joe in the moonlight after we'd made love. Joe in the morning sun with the light glinting off his beard stubble as he moved above me in the dawn.

"No," I said again, and this time my voice was firm. Not this way. If we were going to be over, then let it be for the right reasons. If this was going to be "it", then let it be because it was well and truly over. But not like this. Not in the middle of the sidewalk with half of Trenton looking on while Joe made his pronouncement and once again walked out of my life.

I threw myself behind the wheel of the MiniCooper and headed toward Joe's house. He would eventually come home, and I would be waiting. I let myself in with my key, dodged Bob with practiced efficiency, and headed for the kitchen and the telephone. Trying to hide where I was would be worse than useless, and I wanted him on his home turf. I figured the pager would be useless, so I settled for a voice mail to his cell. "Joe, it's Stephanie. I'm at your house. I have some things I need to say to you. You can stay away as long as you want, but I'm not leaving until I've said them. Do you get me? I'm not leaving."

I had no idea how long I would have to wait, but settled in for the duration, lavishing attention on Bob in an attempt to stop my mind from running in wild circles. Surprisingly, I heard Joe's SUV pull into the drive less than ten minutes after I'd left the message. My stomach gave a lurch, and I took a deep breath as I stood to meet Joe face to face across the battlefield of his sofa.

"Talk. Say what you have to say and get out of my house."

"And then we're full circle once again, right? With nothing resolved, as we just sit here and spin in each other's orbit with one or the other of us walking away."

"I don't need this," and he turned and headed for the door. I saw red.

"Oh, that's rich. And how many times will this make, huh? I've lost count. Any time there's emotion or commitment or a disagreement, or hell, any time the wind blows from a direction you don't want, you walk." I was furious, but so was he.

"I walk? I walk! What about you? Every time we have an argument, you disappear! Hell, I'm thinking about installing a revolving door you've moved in and out so many times!"

"Did you ever think that maybe I walk out so I can beat you to it? Hell, for half my life, every time I had sex with you, the one thing I could count on was seeing your backside heading away from me, with no idea when I'd see you again. Maybe I just got tired of waiting for the other shoe to drop." Tears were glittering in my eyes, but I was too angry to let them fall.

"No way. No. I refuse to keep paying over and over again for what I did when I was young and stupid, Stephanie. I have been faithful to you and you know it. I've done my penance for the other." He suddenly deflated, his mouth pulled tight and his eyes distant. "I've done my penance."

"What are you talking about?" I had no idea what he meant. What kind of penance did he mean?

"You and Manoso. That was my penance." He inhaled and exhaled, and his voice got very quiet, so I had to strain to hear. "I shouldn't have said what I did, and I gave up any right to object when I told you it was over. After…after, I stood outside your door, knowing he was in there, in your bed, inside you, and I had noone to blame but myself. I had it coming. I couldn't go back and change anything, so all I could do was go forward. I tried to show you that I loved you, that we belonged together. The job didn't matter, Manoso didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was that you know how much I loved you. But it wasn't enough." He turned and looked at me directly for the first time since the alley. "I think you should go."

"I'm not leaving."

I rubbed my hands up and down my arms in rhythmic jerks as I tried desperately to get my thoughts in order. "Joe, my relationship with Ranger was not your punishment. It was my choice, and I have to own it."

"He used you." The words fell like stones into the gaping silence. He moved to stand next to the fireplace, his face once again turned from me, closely examining the contents of his mantle.

I shook my head. "No. That would be too easy, Joe. It would be nice to let you direct all your anger at him, but the truth is…" I stopped as the realization dawned on me. "The truth is, I think we used each other. It was easy. He knew I loved you, and I knew there was no possibility of a real relationship, so we took the coward's way out. No emotional risk, no expectations. I'm not proud of it, but at the time it salved my pride."

"What about now? What I saw today? What about that, Stephanie?" His cop face was firmly in place, and I recognized the interrogation techniques he probably didn't even realize he'd fallen back on.

I took a steadying breath. "I'm not going to lie to you, Joe. There's an attraction there, and there have been times…" I trailed off, then regrouped. I was determined to make sure that everything was out on the table. "There have been times we came close to acting on it. But I only slept with Ranger once, Joe."

I tried not to flinch as the contents of the mantle splattered against the floor, small pieces of glass and ceramic flying into the four corners of the room.

"So today was what? Huh? Tell me exactly what today was. Tell me the difference between today and every other damn day in Trenton when the guys at the station think I can't overhear what they're laughing about. Except that today I saw with my own eyes what everyone else has been talking about for YEARS! I never trusted him, Steph, but I trusted you. I trusted US! I thought what we had together mattered as much to you as it did to me." His voice was angry, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. "More fool me, right? Yeah." He turned his head and wouldn't even look at me.

"You're not a fool, Joe." The look he shot me made me recoil. "You're not. Joe, I don't know what to say except I am so sorry." I teared up and my voice broke, but I had to make sure he heard me. "I'm sorry Joe, more sorry than you can ever know. I never, ever meant to hurt you."

"You know what, Cupcake? You can keep your apologies. I don't need them. I don't need you, I don't need THIS. I don't want to see you, I don't want to hear from you. I want you out of my life. Can I make it any clearer?" I didn't even know this Joe. Hard-eyed, cold, he looked through me instead of at me.

"Joe, I'm…" I began. Then I stopped. I knew I could tell him I was pregnant, and he would come back to me. His sense of morality would force him to 'stand by me' for the sake of our child, no matter how he felt about me. Could I live with that? Could I wake up every morning next to this man, knowing he didn't love me, and he was only with me out of a misguided sense of obligation? I couldn't do it. I couldn't do it to him, couldn't do it to the baby, and selfishly, I couldn't do it to myself. Better to remember what we had, and let him go. He didn't deserve the pain I had caused him, and telling him about the pregnancy would only make things worse.

"Sorry." I finally spit out. Moving quickly before he could move out of the way, I brushed a quick kiss across his cheek. "I know I realized this too late, and I messed everything up. But I do love you." I took a deep breath and headed out the door. He didn't try to stop me, and I didn't look back. I'm proud to say that I managed to drive all the way to my parents' house before I fell apart and howled like a baby.

October 31

Joe pulled his jacket collar up around his ears in an attempt to ward off the chill wind that had started up in earnest since he began walking Bob. The kids had packed it in for the night, most of them far gone in sugar-induced stupors by now. The only folks left out this late on Halloween were kids up to no good. Frankly, Joe just didn't want to have to deal with anyone else. His candy bowl was empty, and he'd gone through his usual empty motions handing out candy and telling the kids how great their costumes were. Hurrying the dog along, Joe wanted nothing more than to get inside and warm, maybe crack open a beer in front of the television to stare numbly at the screen until he could reasonably go to bed. Every night was the same, the cold just made this one a little more miserable than usual. He came home from work, heated up something for dinner that he didn't taste, avoided phone calls from well-meaning relatives and friends as much as he could. He and Bob would make a fast walk around the neighborhood then call it a night. Sometimes, if he was lucky, they could manage to walk faster than his thoughts could catch up with him. Those were good nights. He didn't feel anything on those nights—no pain, no emptiness, no sadness. If he kept the volume on the television cranked loud enough, sometimes he could even keep his thoughts at bay awhile longer. But when it got later, though, there wasn't any more avoidance. He couldn't seem to tire himself out enough so that his thoughts didn't chase him through his dreams. Sometimes it was just a glimpse of her face masquerading as the shadow on a curtain, or a whiff of faded perfume as he rummaged through his closet. Other times he woke up sweating, rock hard and aching with need. Those nights he'd learned to just give up sleeping and walk until sunrise.

He turned the corner onto Slater, and his footsteps slowed. He could tell someone was sitting on his front porch in the cold. He caught a glimpse of a familiar profile in the streetlight, and felt like something exploded in his chest. Forcing cold air past the obstruction in his throat, he hurried up the walk and onto the porch.

"Hello, Joe."

The air whooshed out of his lungs, and the familiar ache settled back in his heart. For a moment, there, in the filtered light of the streetlight, he'd thought…well, he'd hoped…

"Hello, Mrs. Plum. What brings you out here on a night like this?"

"Could I come inside for a moment? I promise I won't stay long."

Belatedly, Joe realized they were still standing on the porch in the freezing cold, and he began fumbling his keys.

"Of course. Please come in." His thoughts were racing. Obviously, Mrs. Plum must be here about Stephanie. Oh, God—please let her be okay. He hadn't seen her since that day in April when she'd walked out his door and out of his life—at his own request. He knew that she packed up and moved a few weeks later and hadn't been seen in Trenton since. Manoso had disappeared about the same time, so he assumed they had gone together. He'd thought the pain couldn't get any worse, but he'd been wrong. He'd seriously wondered if it was possible to keep on living with that kind of pain, but discovered to his chagrin that his body wouldn't quit breathing in and out just because he wanted it to. He'd tied on a three-week bender, then abruptly decided he wasn't going down his old man's path either. After that, he concentrated on work. God knows there were enough scumbags in Trenton to keep him busy. He'd cut himself off from his family and his friends as much as he could, and continued with the motions of his life. He thought he was handling things pretty well, too, until a trick of the streetlight had proved him mistaken.

"Please, sit down. What can I do for you, Mrs. Plum?" Joe tried to keep his voice even, his emotions in check, cop face firmly in place.

"I brought something for you." At that, she seemed to be at a loss for words. Her hands worried at the package in her shopping bag, almost as if she couldn't decide what to do with it. Finally reaching a decision, she mustered up her courage and spoke. "Joe, I'm not going to try to tell you what to do with your life. I'm really not. And I understand that Stephanie hurt you terribly,"

"Mrs. Plum, I…" Joe started to interrupt.

"Please, Joe. Please. Give me one minute, and I'll be out of here. I'll leave and never say another word, I swear. Just please give me that minute, okay?"

Joe nodded without speaking.

"I understand that you're hurting. And I know that my daughter is hurting. And I just have to think it's such a waste. You don't have to answer me, Joseph, but please think about this: Are you happier right now, right this minute, or were you happier with Stephanie? No, don't answer me—it's just for you to think about."

"I brought this for you," Stephanie's mother handed him a large three ring binder. "They're copies of letters. Letters I got from Stephanie this year. I know they're private, and I know she never intended them for your eyes. But I also know that the both of you are miserable. And I want my daughter to be happy, Joe. I want you to be happy. Just read the letters and think about it, that's all I ask."

"Mrs. Plum, I don't think…" Once again, she interrupted him.

"Joe, please. Just read them. If you read them and still don't want anything to do with Stephanie, I'll respect that. You won't hear from me again, I promise." She rose quietly and kissed him gently on the cheek before letting herself back out into the cold, dark night. The door snicked closed behind her, and Joe was left alone.

He knew sleep wouldn't come that night, and part of him admitted he was starved for Stephanie, even the sight of her handwriting. He went to the kitchen, pulled out a Corona, then circled the coffee table a few times with its ticking time bomb of a binder sat squarely in the middle. Giving in to defeat, Joe pulled the binder to him and began to read.