All You Need Is Love

by Peaches the First

A/N: I've been working on this chapter for a number of weeks. To me, this is the most important chapter so far, not only because I know at least one of you readers has been looking forward to the event, but also because this is where almost all of the characters are coming together again. It's split into two parts, this being the first, duh, and like "Let It Be", it's told from different POV's. Oh, and since Schroder's never given a last name in the comic, movies, or tv show, I'm naming him after German composer, Johannes Brahms. I think he'd agree with the choice. It's creative licence, so if you don't like it, bite me.

Thanks as ever to those who take the time to review. You guys are my bread and butter.

-Peaches

There Are Places I Remember

July 1975

Part One

The heat makes people crazy.

This has always been the basis of my dislike of the summer months.

Don't mistake me. I love the warmth of the sun, the golden glow of tanned skin, the cool breeze and the ice cream cones. I love the absence of snow banks, the long, lazy days at the beach, and the nights spent without covers, windows latched open to catch the cool night air.

But I hate the way the too-hot days make the mind feverish, the way the body starts to react to every cool touch almost carnally, and how tempers seem to ignite so easily in the July sun, melting away rhyme and reason.

I hate the way the heat makes people crazy.

But most especially, I hate the way it makes me crazy.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

'I love this place,' I mused as I cruised through the streets of my hometown. I felt like an owner, as such. Working where I did, I felt a certain amount of pride in keeping the peace. Preserving, if you will, the honour of the little corner of America I called home. Sometimes I couldn't understand why my siblings and so many of my friends had left the quiet town. Fairly low violent crime rates, great scenery, friendly people...

Of course, sometimes I understood completely. Everyone knew everyone, and anyone who lived in a small town could tell you how annoying and smothering that could be. You couldn't paint your fence without everyone in town finding out and inevitably having an opinion on it, let alone trying to keep more important secrets.

But I loved it, even for all its obvious flaws.

It was six am, and I had just gotten off work. Most men on the force would have gone straight home to sleep after working the 6 to 6 shift, and normally so would I, but this morning I was in the mood to drive my blue Impala leisurely through the downtown streets. I had a full week off now. I would have plenty of time to sleep.

My siblings and their significant others had arrived in town the night before, just before I'd left for work. As much as I'd missed them since Christmas, I'd forgotten how... overwhelming it could be in a full house. Spending a few hours by myself would do me well to survive the next week, at least until the wedding was over and things calmed down.

An old Beatles song came on the radio. I had never particularly liked the Beatles, but the song seemed to suit my mood, so I turned it up as I coasted through the quiet neighbourhoods. Lights were just beginning to flicker on inside suburban homes. The sun was half risen on the eastern horizon, casting long shadows across the ground. I considered going for a bike ride in the evening. I hadn't gone for a ride in what seemed like months.

I elected to get a coffee and some breakfast first, not caring that more caffeine, paired with all the caffeine I already had in my system, would probably make it impossible to sleep until nearly noon. I made my way to a little all night greasy spoon called 'Mandy's'. Their coffee was only passable, but their breakfasts were spot on. I hadn't been there in nearly a month, and suddenly had a craving for their pancakes.

I headed down the main street and pulled into the front lot. There were no other cars in sight and inside looked empty. My stomach grumbled at me to hasten my pace.

I walked in took a seat at the counter. The waitress came rushing out from the backroom, pulling a note pad out of her apron pocket.

"What can I ..." her words trailed of as she look up at me. I balked as well, processing her hair, still long and brown, but stringy and greasy looking; her eyes, doe-like and timid, darting over the features of my face; the quaint curve of her lips, currently expressionless. I forced a soft smile, suddenly feeling very self conscious of my five o'clock shadow and haphazard hair.

"Hello, Lily," I said cautiously. She forced a smile and nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear nervously.

"Hey. What can I get you?"

"Uh..." I glanced up at the menu on the wall. "Breakfast number two," I said. She jotted it down and ripped it off of the note pad, slipping it through the window to the kitchen. Without a word, she poured a cup of coffee and set it in front of me.

"Here you go," she muttered, turning to busy herself with the cash register. She opened it and began to count the bills in the till. She took out the twenties and counted them three times before starting on the tens.

I couldn't keep my eyes off of her. She had changed so much in only two years. She had lost so much weight. The uniform she wore was baggy on her, though it was obviously a small. Her face, which had once been soft and smiling, looked drawn and tired, black bags lining her eyes.

"So when did you get back?" I asked quietly, staring into my coffee. She stopped counting and closed the till, sighing heavily.

"Last week," she admitted, smoothing out the front of her apron. "I moved in with a friend instead of back in with my parents."

"Your mom never mentioned you were home."

"I asked her not to tell you. Well, anybody."

"Oh," I said. "So, things didn't work out in Detroit?" I asked, trying not to sound sharp. Then I ruined it by adding: "With Danny?"

Danny Jones had been a friend of ours from high school, and he'd always had a thing for Lily. She and I, after breaking up for a short time before my parents deaths, had gotten back together, much to Danny's disapproval. When I had gone to Providence to attend the Police Academy that autumn, they had started spending more time together. She broke up with me in December, and by January she had taken off to Detroit with him. That had been over two years ago. I hadn't heard from her, but I had heard through the grapevine that they'd had a rough time. I tried not to pay much attention to the gossip channels.

Dwelling on things could make you bitter.

"He left me," she sniffed contemptuously. "A couple of weeks ago. Moved in with some girl he'd been seeing behind my back."

"I'm sorry," I said without much conviction. She scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"No you're not."

I couldn't argue with that. There was silence between us, nothing but the rattle of dishes in the kitchen and the hum of the florescent lights from above. I drank my coffee, she paced behind the counter, fiddling distractedly with this and that. I finally sighed. "What happened?"

"Like you care," she spat. "Go ahead and bask in the 'I told you so'."

"Lily," I sighed. "I don't give a shit about him, but you should know I never stopped caring about you."

Lily looked away with a pout on her lips, hating me, I was sure. Or, perhaps resenting me. After all, I'd left her here to go to Providence, and I'd never even tried to chase her when she left for Michigan. Maybe her leaving had been a twisted test of some kind.

A test that I had apparently failed.

"Look, I'm not going to pretend I'm okay with what happened," I said, "but I'd like to think that maybe we've grown up a little in the last couple of years. You can hate me if you want, for whatever reason, but I've tried not to hate you." I paused. "Though, Lord knows, I've had reason to." She set her jaw stubbornly, looking me in the eyes with a sort of disdain. I stared back without a flinch. Finally she gave in, crossed her arms under her breasts and looked down at her feet.

"He left when I told him I was pregnant," she murmured, so softly I was almost positive I must have misheard.

"Pregnant?" I asked, dumbfounded. She nodded miserably and covered her stomach with her forearms in shame. My mouth moved several times, groping for something to say.

"He doesn't think it's his," she clarified

"I... shit, Lil, I'm sorry."

"Yeah," she said flatly. "Well, don't worry about it, it's not your problem."

"Still, hell of a thing to do on your own."

"I'll survive," she shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. On anyone else, it may have worked, but, though we'd been apart for a long time, I still knew her every mannerism. Her posture, her crossed arms, and especially her eyes, all told me she was terrified.

"Are you... are you keeping it?"

She nodded.

"I considered... you know... but I couldn't bring myself to go through with it." She leaned on the counter, back to me. "Violet knows," she said. "Offered to lend me the money to have it taken care of. When I told her I wanted to have it, she offered to have me move in with her and Franklin. I may take her up on it when I start to show. But for now, I need to work, be on my own for a while."

"Does your mother know?"

"Not yet," she sighed. "With the wedding being next week, she's pretty taken up in seeing that Lucy and Schroder will have everything they need." She smiled at me softly. "I daresay you'll be seeing a bit of her this week."

Another short silence.

"If..." I hesitated. "If you need anything, let me know, okay?"

She stared at me with disbelief.

"How can you do that?" she asked accusingly. I drew a blank.

"Do what?"

"Be so forgiving all the time. It's infuriating."

I smirked and shrugged.

"My brother always preached it to me," I said, taking a drink of the weak coffee I had nearly forgotten I was holding. "I guess it stuck."

She looked away.

"Order's up," came a deep male voice from the kitchen as my pancakes appeared in the window. She picked up the plate and set it in front of me

"I don't need pity, Rerun," she warned, but with a softness to her tone. "Don't offer to help just because you feel bad for me."

"I'm not," I promised. I didn't know if I was lying or not. It didn't matter, it was what she needed to hear at this point.

We said very little as I ate and finished my coffee. The sun had risen completely and was glaring in through the front window when I stood up to leave.

"Good luck, Lily," I said solemnly as I paid my bill. She forced a soft smile.

"I'll see you around, Officer."

I smiled and walked out of the diner, leaving a twenty dollar bill under my plate.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Unca Charlie!"

"Hey, Timmy!" I said, scooping the small boy up by his underarms as he came barrelling at me, curly brown hair bobbing with each step. "How're you doin', big guy?"

"Good!" my godson chimed enthusiastically, wrapping his small arms around my neck as I pulled him into a bear hug and carried him through the front door he'd left wide open. "Come play with me!"

"For goodness sake, Timothy, Uncle Charlie's not even in the door!" Violet came into the porch, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall with an amused smirk on her face. "Why don't we give him a chance to breathe?"

She was beautiful as she ever had been, even only dressed in a pair of slacks and an old red shirt. Her still long brown hair was swept up into a signature ponytail, a single strand of pearls gracing her slender neck for a touch of class.

"He's just excited, Vi," I smiled, setting the boy down. "Why don't you go watch some cartoons and we'll go to the park later, hey buddy?" I suggested to the four year old. "Bugs Bunny is on, isn't he?"

"Okay!" he cried happily, scampering off to the den. I smiled as I watched him hurry off. He'd grown so much in just a few years.

"Where does the time go, Vi?" I asked softly. She smiled at me, opening her arms and wrapping them around me. I hugged her back timidly.

"How have you been, Charlie?"

"I'm holding up," I said as she released me from the hug. "I moved out of the old apartment. Found a little two bedroom house just outside the city." I shrugged. "Needed a fresh start away from the memories."

"Understandable," Violet nodded, then turned on her heel. "Come on in, I'll make us some coffee, we can catch up."

I followed Violet into the kitchen and took a seat at her kitchen table.

Violet kept an immaculate kitchen. I was always impressed and amused with the way every appliance was always gleaming in its proper place, the way there was never a crumb of bread or the jammy fingerprints of a four year old on the refrigerator, and the way she could cook a four course meal without ever letting on a pot or pan had ever been dirtied. The den, the bedrooms, the bathroom, or the sitting room could be wiped out be a tornado, but Violet's kitchen would survive in pristine condition, I was sure.

"Thanks for babysitting, Charlie, really," she said.

"Not a problem, you know that, Vi," I assured her. I was looking forward to sending time with my godson. I hadn't seen him since the previous summer. "Where's Frank to today?" I asked.

"Out getting his tux fitted for Wednesday," she said, filling a copper kettle with water and placing it on the stove. "Schroder picked him up a little while ago and I think their going out for lunch afterward, so I don't know when he'll be home. Schroder and Lucy got in last night and came over for a few drinks. So did Linus and Sally." She looked at the clock. "Actually, I have to start getting ready soon." Lucy was taking her bridesmaids out for lunch in an hour.

"I'll bet Lucy's been a barrel of laughs," I said smirking. Violet leaned against the counter next to the stove and crossed her arms, an amused look on her face.

"Who, Lucy?" she said innocently. "Why, she's as docile as a kitten, like always."

"A kitten," I scoffed. "Maybe in her sleep." Violet giggled and went to the cupboard, pulling down two mugs from one, a container of instant coffee from another. She went about gathering the other things necessary for coffee and placed them neatly on the table in front of me.

"She's actually not to bad," Violet allowed as she set a spoon next to my mug. "But she'll start to crack soon, and I'll have to take over during her lapses of sanity." She sat in the chair across from me. "Being the matron of honour and all. I give her one more day before it hits her."

"When did it hit you?" I asked. She thought for a moment, then smiled.

"The day of the rehearsal," she said nostalgically. "When we were going over the march down the aisle. Dad and me started toward the front of the church, and there was Franklin at the alter with the priest, Schroder and Rerun on one side, Lucy and Lily on the other. Franklin watched me coming down the aisle. He winked at me, and that's when it hit me that it was really going to happen, after all the bullshit we had to go through with the war, and the illness, and the trouble finding a priest... It was finally going to happen."

"Wow," I said as she got up to tend to the now whistling kettle on the stove. "The sounds intense." She smiled as she poured hot water into each of our mugs before placing the kettle back on a cool stove element. She came back to the table and sat down, mixing her coffee as I did. From the den we could hear the distinct sounds of Daffy Duck bickering with Bugs Bunny, followed by Timothy's hysterical laughter.

"I never thought it'd be so overwhelming," she said. "But then, I was only 21, everything about life was overwhelming." She looked up at me from across the table and smiled, lifting her mug to mouth level and resting her elbows on the table. "It's amazing how much we grow up in just a few years. And in five more years, we'll look back at today and wonder how we could have been so naive."

"That's the truth," I said sadly. Violet caught my tone and looked at me inquisitively over the edge of her mug, taking a sip.

"Something the matter, Charlie?" she asked as she set the mug back in front of her, already knowing, but wanting me to say it myself. Even when we were younger, she had always wanted me to recognized my problems, though she'd grown more tactful of letting me figure out on my own as of the last 15 years or so, rather than simply yelling at me on the street or playground as she used to.

"Like you don't know," I chuckled. She smiled conspicuously, but said nothing. I sighed. "I just miss her."

"I know, I understand," Violet confirmed. And she did know what it was like to miss someone, I realized. She'd been left behind to miss Franklin during the war. Of course, there was always the promise that, should he survive, he'd be coming back home. I, however, was much more sure of Frieda's ultimate survival, but lived with the knowledge she would never come home for more than a few weeks, if at all.

"I was going to propose," I told Violet, whose eyebrows rose in shock. She was the first person I'd confessed this to, and would probably be the only one.

"I'm sorry, Charlie," she commiserated.

"I was waiting for her birthday." I took a drink of the coffee, grimacing as I realized I hadn't put any sugar in and reaching for the respective bowl. "I can't decide if it's a good thing I didn't ask, or a bad thing."

"How so?"

"If I'd asked her and she said yes, it would have meant one of two things: either she didn't accept the job offer, stayed and married me, but been unhappy for not taking the job, or she'd have accepted the job, broken it off with me, and broken my heart a little worse in the process." I finished stirring in my sugar and took another sip. "On the one hand, I made her choice a little easier by not having asked her. On the other hand... I made her choice a little easier by not having asked her."

Violet smiled at my irony and put down her cup. She leaned back in her chair, looking at me thoughtfully.

"How long has she been gone?"

"Nine months."

"Have you seen anybody else?"

"No one."

"Why not?"

"I'm still in love with her."

"You were in love with me too, once, but you managed to move past that."

I paused, and it was my turn to stare at her in shock. There was a stuttering silence as I sat dumbly across from her. She looked at me, nervous it seemed, then looked down into her coffee.

"How long have you known?" I asked finally, trying not to sound too much like an idiot.

"Since we were 12," she said, a hint of laughter in her voice as she thought back. "God, I was so selfish back then. I knew in the back of my mind that I could... I don't know... Keep you on the sidelines in case I ever needed a friend." She looked at me with sad, honest eyes. "By the time I was 15 and I realized what kind of a bitch I was, it was too late to tell you, because we had become friends, and I couldn't hurt you like that. It was easier just to keep pretending I didn't know."

"Oh," was all I could think to say.

"I didn't expect that you would come to my wedding," she continued. "And when you did show up, part of me expected that you'd be the one to object to it."

"Vi," I muttered. "All I ever wanted was for you to be happy."

"I know," she said, reaching across the table, placing her hand on mine. "Can you forgive me?" she asked, her voice taut.

My secret was out. It had never actually been a secret at all, I realized. All of that time spent brooding and lamenting my lack of fortune, and she had known the whole time. Hell, played off of my feelings for her own gain. All of the nights - no, years - spent living on the dream that she would one day realize I loved her and give me a chance to prove it...

And yet, somehow, it didn't matter. It didn't even hurt. In fact, I found myself smiling at the ridiculousness of the whole situation. It all seemed so... juvenile. So very high school. After all, hadn't it all worked out in the end? She'd found the man she loved, and I'd spent three years with an amazing woman I otherwise wouldn't have. And, in the end, weren't we still friends? Didn't I have a godson?

I looked back at Violet and adjusted my hand from under hers, placing mine on top and squeezing hers lightly.

"You know I do," I said, and a look of relief washed over her face. She leaned back in her chair again, pulling her hand back to grip her coffee cup once more. She took a timid sip and smiled at me.

"You're a good man, Charlie Brown."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

All I wanted was a sandwich.

I thought longingly of a pastrami on rye with Swiss cheese as I descended the stairs from my room. I'd gotten home at seven thirty and had gone straight to bed. I hadn't eaten since my awkward breakfast out and now that it was nearly 1 o'clock in the afternoon, my stomach growled at me hungrily.

I was a large guy. I wasn't used to going any length of time without food.

"Hello?" I called, noting how quiet the place seemed to be. My voice echoed in the empty rooms, and I was left to assume no one was home. My sister was taking her bridesmaids to lunch, that much I knew. Schroder was spending the afternoon with Franklin, as far as I was aware, and would be home for supper. But where were Linus and Sally? They hadn't mentioned having any plans.

Entering the kitchen, intent on raiding the refrigerator, I was startled by the appearance a figure out of the corner of my eye. I jumped and spun to meet the form, flushing red with embarrassment to find it was only Sally.

"You scared the hell outta me," I chuckled once I caught my breath. I turned, continuing toward the refrigerator. "Why didn't you answer when I called out?" I asked.

She didn't respond, so I turned to look at her.

She was sitting at the end of the table, nursing a cup of coffee with one hand, contemplatively leaning her chin in her other. Her legs were tucked up under her, bare feet revealing bright pink toenails in contrast to her pale white skin of her feet and legs, which were exposed by a pair of yellow capris not reaching far past her knees.

"Sal?" I asked. "Are you okay?" I abandoned my quest for sustenance and pulled out the chair nearest hers, setting myself down in it carefully. I leaned forward, trying to peek at her face, which her long blonde hair was currently covering carelessly. "Sal?" I asked again.

Finally, she let out a sigh and looked up at me. Her cheeks were red, smears of blueish-black mascara where tears had been wiped away. Her eyes were still watery and bloodshot.

"What's wrong?" I asked, now very concerned. She let out a crass chortle and picked up her coffee cup, swirling the brown liquid for a moment before taking a long, slow drink.

"Have you ever..." she started, putting down her cup and pausing. "Have you ever felt you've had just about as much as you can take?"

"What do you mean?"

She sighed again, another ironic chuckle escaping her pale pink mouth. Closing her eyes, she shook her head, as though unsure of what she was even talking about.

"I don't even know anymore," she confessed. "There's too much going on and not enough time to process any of it."

"You mean the wedding?" I asked. She shrugged and took another long drink from her mug. I briefly wondered if it was just coffee, but shook the thought from my mind. Sally was trustworthy, and hadn't had another relapse since getting out of rehab, so what right did I have to doubt her?

"More than that. Linus and I have been fighting lately," she said in a voice just above a whisper. "A lot more than normal. It feels like... like he doesn't – " she cut herself off as her eyes began to well again with tears.

"It's okay, Sal," I said softly, placing my hand over hers on the table, "You don't have to explain if it's too hard."

"God," she shuddered. "I'm just so... frustrated!" Her voice raised momentarily, but faded with her last word. She rested her thin arms on the table top and set her forehead down. "I don't know what to do anymore," she whispered.

"Why don't you just tell me what happened today to get you so upset?"

"We were... we were cleaning up from breakfast, talking about the wedding," she started, bringing her head up. "I just... he was saying how weird it was that Lucy was getting married, and I teased him that people will probably say it's weird when we get married, and he... he said 'you mean if.'"

"Ouch," I muttered. Sally shuddered another sigh and nodded.

"I asked what he meant by 'if'," she continued, "But he said he didn't mean anything by it, and to just let it drop." She chuckled again, softer than before. "But you know me, I started thinking... and I started convincing myself of all kinds of things..."

"Like what?" I asked. I knew that a train of thought could be a dangerous thing, especially in the mind of someone with doubts.

"Like he's only with me out of pity, or to not upset Charlie," she sighed. "That he's seeing someone, that he stopped loving me." She paused to swirl the last of her coffee around in the bottom of the mug. "Maybe that he doesn't love me at all."

"Sally, come one now," I said gently. "You know Linus loves you. I think you're just reading too far into something he probably didn't even realize he said."

"Maybe," she muttered, then looked around the kitchen, as though just realizing where she was. "What time is it?"

"About one," I said, glancing at my watch. "Why?"

"Linus left around ten," she said. "I'm just wondering where he might have gone."

"Probably to see Charlie or something," I assured her. "You don't need to worry about Linus, trust me." I smiled as a memory came back to me. "You know, when he was nine, he ran away from home when mom tried to make him clean his room. We found him at gramma's place eating cookies."

Sally smiled. A real smile, however small and brief it may have been.

"You wanna get out of here for a little while?" I asked suddenly. She looked at me thoughtfully.

"Like to where?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "We could grab lunch, go to the beach, maybe just take a ride up the highway." I smiled. "You seem like you need to get out of the house for a while, you've been cooped up in here all day, haven't you?"

She looked hesitant for a moment, glancing around the kitchen undecidedly.

"Come on, don't worry about supper, you need a break. We'll leave a note."

She nodded finally, swiping at the dried mascara stains on her cheeks.

"Okay, just let me clean myself up," she said, slowly standing and stretching. The thin pink tanktop she wore rode up her torso, revealing her smooth white stomach before she dropped her arms. "I'll be down in a few minutes." With that, she left the kitchen. I heard her footsteps on the stairs, then overhead in the bedroom she shared with Linus.

"Sounds good," I murmured to myself before standing and likewise making my way upstairs to wash my face and pull on something halfway presentable.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"You should apologize."

"I'm not going to apologize for something I didn't mean to do."

"You don't mean to bump into people, but you apologize when you do, don't you? It's called civility."

Charlie was making sense again. I hated when he did that.

We sat on the park bench, sun beating down from the cloudless blue sky. If not for the slight breeze wisping gently across the grass, the heat would have been unbearable. My own tee shirt, thin as it may have been, felt heavy and clung to my skin. In only a few hours it had reached a nearly record high temperature.

Timothy sat in the sandbox some 15 feet away, building a sandcastle with a little blond girl. The blond's caretaker, a young latina woman with her long black hair in a bun, sat reading on the bench opposite Charlie and I. Every few minutes she would look up to check on her charge, then glance up at us and smile before looking back at her book.

It had been completely by chance that I had run into Charlie as he walked Timothy to the park. I had been walking aimlessly, with some level of ire, through Violet and Franklin's neighbourhood, kicking at the cigarette butts on the sidewalk when I spotted them walking and decided to join them, rather than stew any longer. I had already been through town, had stopped and sat for the better part of an hour at a coffee shop, and had been sitting on the old wall, hoping for answers.

"I just don't understand why she took it so hard," I sighed. "I really only meant that it was... expensive... or that it's not a good time right now.. or something."

"Really?" Charlie said, a faint humour in his tone. "You don't sound like you're sure what you meant at all."

"I'm starting to wonder if you're the best person to be talking to about this," I admitted with some frustration.

"Well, I'm probably the most qualified," Charlie smirked. "But I am also her older brother and completely within my right to beat the hell out of you if you hurt her."

"Thanks Charlie," I grunted. "Really, you're a great help."

"Hey," he said, nudging my elbow. "At least I don't charge you like Lucy did."

I chuckled at the memory of Lucy's advice over the years from the little wooden lemonade stand she called a psychiatry booth. How many nickels did I give her just to have her clock me one in the nose for complaining about her?

"Hard to believe she's really getting married, huh?" I said with a hint of nostalgia. Charlie sighed next to me and leaned forward, arms rested on his knees. He looked out at Timothy, who was passing a little red bucket to the blond girl.

"Where does the time go?" he asked. I wasn't sure if he was looking for an answer or not. I chose to remain silent.

"Violet knew, you know," he said after a spell. I gave him a questioning sideways glance. "That I was in love with her," he explained. I snickered and Charlie looked over at me. "What?" he asked.

"Charlie, everybody knew," I said with at chuckle. "Hell, anyone who saw you two together knew you were crazy for her. You must know you're utterly transparent. You wear that heart of yours on your sleeve."

"Yeah," he sighed. "I guess part of me knew she knew. Or maybe wanted her to know."

"And you let her lead you around like that anyway? I mean, when we were younger. She wised up and treated you better in high school, but still."

"Maybe that part of me likes being used," he sighed. "Makes me feel like I have some purpose. But anyway, at least all of it is over and done with."

"Yeah," I said, preparing to cross into dangerous territory. "So, have you heard from Frieda?"

"Her last letter came three weeks ago," he said flatly. "I wrote back. I'm hoping a new one will have come when I get back to Chicago."

"How are you dealing with it all, man?" I asked. "Its been, what, almost a year?"

"Nine months," Charlie corrected me. "And I'm doing better than I expected. I didn't think I'd be able to hold it together this long."

"Getting any easier?"

"I suppose."

We were quiet, nothing to listen to but the children playing on the equipment and the chit chat of mothers nearby.

"Do you really think I should go apologize?" I asked, defeated. I could almost hear Charlie smirking.

"Yes, I do."

"For what?"

"Unca Charlie, come push me!" Timothy demanded, already scampering away from the sandbox and toward the swingset. His little blond friend walked away, hand in hand with her latina nanny, waving with her free hand. Timothy waved back, grinning ear to ear as he ran. Charlie rose from the bench, raising a hand in so long to the little blond's nanny, who smiled and blushed, quickening her pace.

I rose as well, following Charlie to where Timothy sat on the swing set, feet dangling above the ground.

"Just say you were being insensitive and explain that your comment had nothing to do with wanting to marry her, but with being able to marry her," he said professionally. "You know, like you mentioned; money, timing, et cetera."

"Think that will work?"

"It couldn't hurt," he said, holding out his hand. "Five cents, please."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Anybody home?" I called out into the house as I entered, shutting the door with an unceremonious thud. I unbuttoned my shirt and peeled it down off of my shoulders, cool air hitting my bare arms. The thin white shirt I had worn underneath was much more bearable than the polyester dress shirt I had elected to wear earlier in the day.

"Is that you, babe?" came Lucy's voice from upstairs.

"I didn't think you'd be home from lunch yet," I called back, setting my keys on the hallway table and taking the stairs two at a time. "It's only two."

"I dropped Violet off about ten minutes ago," she was saying as I entered our bedroom. She was rummaging around in the closet, her back to me. Her long black hair was plated in a braid, hanging down the centre of her back. "I just got in myself."

"Where is everyone?" I wondered aloud.

"Charlie was out with Timothy, on his way back to Violet's. He said he'd be by around 7 for drinks," she said, placing her hands on her hips and surveying the closet. "Linus was with Charlie, said he was going to visit Charlie's parents for a bit. Said he'd be home for supper. Rerun and Sally left a note saying they would be back around four."

"And what are you doing?" I asked, noticing the assortment of clothing strewn along the end of the bed.

"Hanging up everything we're wearing on Wednesday so it doesn't wrinkle too badly," she explained, grabbing one of my shirts off the end of the bed and slipping it onto a hanger. She turned back to the closet to hang it up. "I don't want to have to iron these Tuesday night or Wednesday morning."

"You know, I can think of more constructive ways to spend our time," I said. "Alone in the house... all afternoon... no one to bother us..."

"Oh, I'll bet you can," she said, with a smirk. "But I think you're forgetting how much work has to be done before Wednesday. I still need to go to my final fitting on Monday, pack our things for the trip, meet with the caterer, the priest..."

I crept up behind her as her back was turned and wrapped my arms around her waist, nuzzling my head into the crook of her neck. The blue tanktop she wore left her shoulders exposed, a fact which I took advantage of by leaving a trail of kisses from just below her ear, down her neck, to the curve of her shoulder. Her arms dropped limply as she leaned into me.

"You need to relax," I purred into her ear. "And I know exactly how."

"Schroder," she groaned with protest, "this isn't fair."

"Remember how much fun it was to sneak around up here when we were 17?" I said cheekily. "Trying to be quiet, not wake anyone?" I started to sway her back and forth with a gentle rhythm.

"I remember," she admitted grudging, tone of voice coloured with a smile.

"And remember how great it used to be when we got the house to ourselves for an afternoon?"

"But there's so much to do," she moaned half-heartedly. I grinned and pulled her away from the closet toward the centre of the room.

"Work later," I said. I turned her around to face me and slipped my fingers into her belt loops, pulling her closer. "Play now."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"I'm just not sure about anything anymore," I sighed, bending down and picking up a smooth grey rock. I turned it over in my hands a few times before pitching it out into the waves. I shielded my eyes from the sun and watched it arch high into the air before descending into the blue-grey water.

"You've still got quite an arm," Rerun said as we continued along down the seashore, shoes in tow. We had driven out to one of the beaches near Narragansett, where my parents had taken Charlie and I as children. I remembered coming here to the cottage, first as a child, then later on weekend trips with the older kids when they'd let me tag along, and later bringing my own friends out here for parties. It was a beautiful spot, with a long sandy beach stretching along the sea's boundary, smooth sun-bleached rocks scattered along the tide line. Mom and dad still came out a few times a year.

We walked barefoot along the hot sand. Rerun looked down contemplatively, watching as a crab scuttled across his path. We had walked through the more public area, where kids built sandcastles and mothers read paperback novels under colourful beach umbrellas. We were now far down the shore, umbrellas little more than colourful dots in the distance.

"If this was seven years ago, I'd probably hit up someone for a bag of something really strong," I chuckled morbidly. "Sometimes I wish it was still that easy. Running away from things seems so much more tempting than facing them." I found it odd to be talking about this with Rerun, mostly because he was a cop. He, however, didn't seem to be judging me. I appreciated that.

"You don't mean that," he told me. "Even if it's hard, you and I both know it's worth it."

"Yeah," I sighed, half believing him. "I don't know, the arguing just takes so much out of me."

"What do you guys fight about?" he asked. "I mean, maybe it's normal stuff."

I stopped at a large piece of driftwood. I sat on the sun-and-salt bleached log, facing the water, digging my toes into the warm sand until I felt the cool dampness underneath.

"Different things," I said. "But mostly trust." I looked out on the water, watching tiny pinprick seagulls swooping down to the whitecaps on the waves further out where the blue of the sky blended into the blue of the water. "Sometimes I feel like he's not telling me everything, like he doesn't trust me, or he's keeping secrets."

"That just sounds like you're letting the little things get to you," Rerun reasoned, taking a seat next to me on the log. The dry wood shifted and cracked a little under his weight. "I mean, like I said before, he probably doesn't even know he's doing anything to upset you."

Rerun, I noticed quite suddenly, had gotten bigger, if that was possible. After puberty, he had shot up to 6'2", passing my slight frame easily. He had never been large, neither he, Linus or Lucy ever having so much as an ounce of fat on them, but I had not noticed before now how broad his shoulders and chest had become since his police training the last few years. His arms had also thickened with muscle, which I could see now as his loose tee shirt billowed in the sea breeze.

I felt so small next to him, compared to Linus, who was much thinner and did not quite reach six feet. And much paler. Neither Linus or myself were much for the outdoors, whereas Rerun still played basketball and biked fairly regularly, proof showing in his tanned face and arms.

They were both so different, I mused to myself as he dug a small hole in the sand with a stick of driftwood. Linus was academic, looking to books and education to guide him, and religion to comfort him. Rerun was athletic, relieving stress with sore muscles and sweat. Even as a child, Rerun had always been moving, whether playing with neighbourhood dogs, or biking, or playing basketball, or any number of other things, it was usually quite hard to keep tabs on the boy.

"I try not to," I said. "I really do try, but sometimes it feels like we're stuck in routine." I thought for a moment. "Or, that he's happy to be stuck there and I want more."

"More meaning marriage?" he asked casually. "Kids? A house? That kind of more?"

"We've tried to talk about that," I sighed. "But it never seems like a good time. The apartment is fine right now, but if we ever wanted a family, we'd have to get a bigger place." I paused. "He doesn't like talking about kids just yet. It's hard enough to get him to talk about marriage."

"You want kids though?" he asked. "I mean, you'll make a great mother."

I blushed a little. I loved my job, teaching first grade at a primary school in Providence, but I sometimes felt that maternal tug to have one of my own. When I saw the children drawing pictures of their families, making mothers day and fathers day cards out of cardboard and macaroni, or running to jump into their parents arms when they were picked up at the end of the day; it was all very hard on the motherly instinct in me.

"I do want kids," I confirmed. We sat, not saying anything for a long time, enjoying the sun as it beat down, doing battle with the cool wind that swept off the water.

I looked over at Rerun, his thick, messy black hair ruffling slightly in the breeze. He'd grown quite handsome, I allowed myself. He had the same heart-shaped face as Lucy and Linus, hairline set in a point at the top of his forehead. His eyes, soft and green like his siblings, were closed, his head tipped back to absorb the heat of the sun, his strong jaw pointing out toward the water.

His nose, I noticed, was slightly crooked, taking him out of the realm of impossibly attractive, and placing him at a wonderful crossroad between boy-next-door and Hollywood.

"We should head back soon," he said after a moment. He looked over to where I was still studying his face, and for a moment he caught my eye. "Are you okay?" he asked.

For a moment, I didn't know. A strange feeling, so overpowering it set my stomach tipping uncomfortably, washed up over me. It felt alarmingly foreign for a moment, until it began to very suddenly feel familiar. It was like the sting of withdrawal mixed with the excitement of preparing your drug of choice, knowing that it was only a matter of moments before it would be pulsing through your system, easing the pain, making you feel whole again. The oasis of sin and inebriation after wandering through the desert of piety and abstinence.

It was so overpowering, it took me a moment to gather my senses. I hadn't felt that sting in a very long time, and I had no idea why it had so suddenly come over me.

"Sally?" Rerun asked, his voice laced with panic. "Are you alright?" He had turned his upper body to face me and placed his hand on my bare shoulder gently.

"I'm fine," I whispered, meaning it for the first time in months.

And that's when I leaned forward and pressed my lips against his.