She stuck out her chin and grabbed hold of the charms around her neck. Thunder growled in the distance, vibrating the ground.

He shoved his fingers deep into his lab-coat pockets. "And I'm sorry if you think that relying on me or anybody else will make you unwillingly form attachments to us. But I'm here if you need me. As a friend, and nothing more, if that's what you want."

She searched her purse for her car keys. "I need to get going. A storm's coming."

Sam stood in front of her and gently lifted her chin. "It is. Just remember to take shelter when it starts to pour."

Pulling away, she headed toward Lucinda's car. The tall oaks swayed with the wind, shaking loose their acorns. Fat hydrangea blossoms edging the walkway bent over double, their large, showy heads dipped in sorrow.

"You know where to find me." The wind carried Sam's voice to her, and she stopped. She wanted to rush to him, to have him hold her. She wanted to feel his heartbeat against her ear, to know his understanding. She faced him again and watched as the wind pelted his white coat and blew his hair into small tufts. But she could not take what she was not able to give.

Forcibly, she turned toward the car again. Thunder rumbled overhead as a large gust pushed at her, drying her eyes and bringing with it the promise of rain.

Seventeen.

Cassie sped down the street, not seeing anything but the blurry pink of the car's hood. She blinked, clearing her eyes temporarily. The windshield wipers beat a rhythm: Harriet is sick, Harriet is sick, Harriet is sick. Desperate for a distraction, she flipped on the radio to Garth Brooks singing about friends in low places. She sang along for a few bars before switching it off in irritation. Since when do I know all the lyrics from a Garth Brooks song? It's certainly not poetry and definitely not worth the effort of learning them.

She swerved the car into her sister's driveway. You're being mean, Cassie. You must be scared. Cassie caught her reflection in the rearview mirror and said aloud, "You're damned straight I'm scared. I'm scared shitless."

Not wanting to wait while she searched for an umbrella under the seat, she opened the door and ran to the porch. She pushed on the doorbell again and again until she heard footsteps approach.

Joe opened the door and greeted her with a smile that quickly changed to a worried expression. "Where's Harriet? I thought she was with you." Amanda cried inconsolably in the background.

Cassie forced herself to remain calm and pasted a smile on her face. "You mean she's not here?"

He shook his head, opening the door wider for her to come inside. "No, I haven't seen her since she left with you this morning." He shut the door, his hand lingering on the doorknob. "Did y'all . . . have a fight?"

"Oh, no. Nothing like that." Amanda cried louder in the background. "She, uh, wanted to get some exercise and decided to walk home from the clinic. I needed to talk to her." Cassie looked past his shoulder into the hallway. "Do you need to see about the baby?"

He swiped a hand through his hair. "Um, yeah. I was just feeding her when the doorbell rang. Come on back."

Cassie followed him into the kitchen. Amanda sat in the highchair, an upended bowl on the tray and baby cereal covering most of her hair and the floor beside her.

Joe surveyed the mess with a sad shake of his head. "I sure wish I knew where Harriet was. She's a lot better at this stuff than me."

The television blared from the family room, and Cassie peeked inside. The three youngest Warner children lounged around the room, still wearing their pajamas. Cereal boxes, bowls with milk and spoons stuck in them, and various toys were strewn from one end of the room to the other. She turned back to Joe and forced a smile. "Hey, why don't you take the kids upstairs to get dressed and straighten the fam-ily room. I'll finish feeding Amanda and get her cleaned up." She glanced over at the baby, who was now making a face rub out of the cereal. "Wherever Harriet is, she'll be back soon."

Stricken, Joe's eyes went wide. "Oh, Lord, she'll have my hide. I'd better hustle, then. Thanks, Cassie. You're a peach." He hurried into the family room as Cassie surveyed the kitchen for the best plan of attack.

Thirty minutes later, trying to hide her impatience, she handed the fed and cleaned baby to her father. She knew where her sister had gone but wasn't yet willing to share the information with Joe. Harriet had been her sister first, after all. And looking at Joe's affable and once-beloved face, she wanted to postpone the inevitable as long as she could.

Cassie stepped out onto the small porch, letting Joe catch the door before it swung shut. "If I see Harriet, I'll tell her to call you. I'm sure she just decided to do some shopping. I'll see you later." Not knowing why she did it, she squeezed his arm, then returned to Lucinda's car and started the engine, the tires squealing as she peeled out onto the road.

She didn't have to think about where she was going. The comforting and familiar scent of mothballs and old cedar of the attic in the big house called to her. It had once been a place of sanctuary and refuge, and Cassie figured that if Harriet ever needed such a place, it was now.

The rain slowed to a steady drizzle as she urged the car under the drooping oaks leading to the house. She spotted Aunt Lucinda immediately, hands clutching a fuschia umbrella with ruffles, staring up at one of the trees. Lucinda wore a bright yellow jogging suit and matching athletic shoes, making Cassie smile. Trying to keep her girlish figure, Lucinda had taken up power walking. She still did her hair and wore full makeup before venturing outside, but it met with Cassie's full approval. Slowing the car, Cassie rolled down the window.

"What's wrong with the tree?"

Lucinda faced her, a frown puckering her penciled eyebrows, her mascara smudged under her eyes from the rain. "Somebody's been stripping the bark off these old trees. Look." She indicated the bottom twelve inches of the bark where somebody had neatly shaved off the bark. Thick tree sap wept over the naked wood.

"Are they all like that?"

Lucinda nodded. "As far as I can tell." She stuck her head in the window, peering closely at Cassie. "You here to talk to Harriet? She's up at the house, waiting for you. Wouldn't tell me a thing until she'd talked to you." Straightening, she slapped the side of the car, her metal rings making a pinging noise. "You go on and see about your sister. I'll see what sort of damage has been done to these oaks."

Cassie waved, then rolled up the window and drove to the front of the house. She ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time, until she reached the attic.

Harriet stood in front of a cracked cheval mirror, a white satin and lace gown held in front of her. She caught Cassie's gaze in the shattered reflection and smiled.

"It's Mama's wedding gown, remember? I always thought I'd wear it when I got married." She sighed, lowering the dress from her chest. "At least you'll be able to."

Cassie tried to smile but failed miserably. "Don't hold your breath on that one. I think I've screwed up things royally on all sides. Guess I'll just be an old maid like Miss Lena. Maybe she'll even let me move in with her."

Harriet smoothed the satin against her legs. "Promise me that you'll remind Maddie that this dress is here and hers to wear. She's so stubborn sometimes, but I think she'll listen to you. She looks up to you, you know."

Cassie swallowed thickly. "Why don't you just tell her yourself?"

With a sigh, Harriet gently laid the wedding dress back into the open trunk. Kneeling slowly, she began tucking yellowed tissue paper around the white gown. Cassie joined her, focusing on placing the paper between the delicate folds of satin, each tuck and flip of the fabric like a gentle reassurance from her mother.

Harriet sat back on her heels, staring out toward the small window where a new wave of rain was now forcing itself against the glass in sheets. The sound of a car door shutting drifted toward them. "Poor Joe, he doesn't even know where I keep the Christmas decorations. I don't know how he's going to manage."

"Stop talking like that, Har. You're scaring me."

Rolling over to a sitting position, Harriet leaned against the chest and breathed deeply. "Sorry. I know you're not easily scared. You were always the one sticking your head under the bed to prove to me there weren't any bogeymen lying in wait." She closed her eyes, her hands resting on her abdomen. "I remember after Mama died and you'd let me crawl into your bed because I was too scared to sleep alone. You told me there was nothing to be afraid of because Mama sent angels to watch over us." Harriet opened her eyes to look at her sister, a small smile crossing her lips. "You said you knew it was true because of my dimple. You told me that before I was born an angel kissed my cheek and left its mark, so you knew they were real. And now Mama was up in heaven to help watch over us when the angels had to go to sleep." Harriet sighed deeply. "I was never scared after that."

Cassie looked away, hiding her eyes, her voice quiet. "The only reason I wasn't scared was because I believed it, too."

Her sister reached for her hand and held it. "You were a good big sister. You didn't deserve all the pain and hurt you suffered because of me. If it makes you feel any better, I was so jealous of you when you moved to New York."

Cassie wiped her eyes with her free hand and regarded her sister. "You jealous of me. Now there's a concept. You had everything you wanted right here. What could there possibly have been in New York for you to envy?"

"Snow." Harriet's face radiated with an inner peace, glowing in the dim light from the small attic window. "I've always wanted to see snow. I guess I'll probably die before ever getting to see the white stuff."

Dropping Harriet's hand, Cassie scrambled to stand. "Don't say that. It's bad karma and all that." She walked toward the window, staring out sightlessly. "You're pregnant, and they've found a few can-cer cells. That's all we know right now, and that's all I'm considering." She turned around. "And what could you have been thinking, getting pregnant so soon after Amanda? Haven't you ever heard of birth control?"

Harriet regarded her sister from beneath lowered brows. "Honey, being a single woman, I'm sure you don't know much about the baby-making business, but believe me, thinking has very little to do with it."

Despite her heavy heart, Cassie laughed out loud. "Please stop. I'm getting mental images, and I just don't want to go there."

Harriet laughed, and Cassie quieted, humbled by the sound that suddenly seemed as familiar to her as her own laugh. She wanted to freeze this moment in time; stop its progression. The musty smell of the attic, the discarded remnants of her childhood strewn about in boxes and trunks, and laughter and confidences shared with her sister. They all combined to form a savory stew of memories, like the recollection of a long-ago Christmas. She wanted to hold this moment inside her forever like a cherished doll, to be brought out for comfort when life seemed to get the best of her.

Cassie picked up a tiny wooden cradle from the ancient dollhouse, long forgotten in its dark corner of the attic. Its windows appeared as sightless eyes, watching the big people play at real life. She didn't lift her eyes from the small toy when she spoke. "I know you haven't told Joe about the baby. It's not . . . it's not too late. . . ."

Harriet interrupted her with the slamming of the trunk lid. "Don't, Cassie. Don't even say it. I've made up my mind, and terminating this pregnancy is not an option. But I don't guess you'd understand."

Cassie dropped the tiny cradle, letting it hit the roof of the dollhouse. Her voice rose with the frustration of not being in control of what was happening. "Not understand? No, you're wrong. You're the one who can't understand. You were too little to remember what it was like watching Mama die and then being left to take care of a younger sister. How dare you say I wouldn't understand."

With visible effort, Harriet stood. "I'm sorry, Cassie. I never knew how much of a burden I was for you. But I could never deliberately sacrifice one of my children, and no, you wouldn't understand that because you've never been a mother. You've never heard the heartbeat of a child growing inside you, right under your heart. I could no more kill this baby than I could kill one of my older children." Her chest rose and fell with exertion as she leaned heavily against a stack of boxes.

Cassie took a deep breath, trying unsuccessfully to calm down and lower her voice. "I don't believe in terminating pregnancies any more than you do, and I've never even been pregnant. But give me a little credit here, Har. I don't have an M.B.A. from Wharton for nothing. You have to look at the pros and cons. Your existing five children need you, especially Maddie. Look at her. My God, she reminds me so much of me at that age that it hurts. She needs a mother bad. It might not seem like it, but she looks to you for guidance." Tears fell down her cheeks freely now, and she angrily wiped them away. "And what about Amanda? Do you want her to only remember you from wrinkled photos Joe pulls out of his wallet?" She threw her hands in the air. "I don't understand you. You're making this decision with the same 'shoot from the hip' decision-making process you used when you eloped with Joe. You never seem to think about what's going to happen to those you leave behind."

Harriet crumpled onto the top of the closed trunk, her voice defeated. "That's not fair. I was just a teenager then, and it wasn't a life-or-death situation, either."

Cassie kicked a Raggedy Ann doll on the floor, sending it flying into the wall with a slight thud. "No, I guess it wouldn't have been life or death for you then. I was the only one who wanted to die after you married Joe."

Tears glistened on Harriet's cheeks, and Cassie wanted to hide from the shame she felt inside. She hadn't meant what she'd said, but old hurts die slow and hard, and the fear she felt for her sister pulled out ugly thoughts from the darkest place inside.

Harriet swallowed. "If I haven't said it enough, I'm sorry. I really, really am. But I'm not sorry for marrying Joe. I make all my decisions from the heart, and I can't say I regret a single one. But I am truly sorry for hurting you and for being at least partly responsible for the mess your life is in right now. But you're a big girl now, Cassie. And I think it's time somebody filled you in on a few things you've been missing."

With a shuddering breath, she fixed her sister with a steady gaze. "Since Mama and Daddy aren't here to do it, I guess it's my job, so here goes. You've got this wonderful thing happening between you and Sam staring you in the face, but you refuse to acknowledge it because you've got it in your head that you're not sticking around here long enough to get involved with anything or anybody."

Harriet held up her hand, fending off her sister's objections. "Whether you know it or not, you're too stubborn to admit that maybe you've been wrong these past fifteen years and that Walton really is where you belong-with the people who love you, even when you're being ornery. And you need these people, even if you're blind to it. If you're too stupid to see that, then you're not half as smart as I've always thought you were." As if to signal that she was done, Harriet rested her head in her hands and took a deep breath.

Feeling as if her legs couldn't hold her anymore, Cassie sank down on a dusty box and began crying. "I'm sorry, Har. I didn't mean those things. I really didn't." She bent and rested her elbows on her knees, the heels of her hands closing her eyes. "I'm just so damned scared. And I'm angry-angry that this has happened to you and there doesn't seem to be anything I can do to make it better. For the first time in my life, I don't know what to do." She sniffed loudly, sitting up and wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands.

Harriet lifted her head and held her gaze steadily on her sister. "What are you afraid of, Cassie? I hope it's not for me. Don't waste your energies, because I've got enough fear and uncertainty for all of us. Are you afraid of your feelings for Sam? Or maybe it's just admitting that you're wrong about how you feel about this town and what it means to you? Try it. You'll find that it's a lot better once you get it out of your system. And I promise you nobody will think less of you. Just stop being so stubborn and listen to your heart for a change."

Cassie jumped up off the box, her voice rising. "Why does everybody think that staying here will solve all my problems? I can't do anything for you, so I'm useless here. And it's going to take a hell of a lot more than the best sex I've ever had to keep me here in Walton."

A throat clearing had both women turning their heads toward the attic stairwell. Sam Parker stood on the top step, his lips drawn together in a tight smile, his jaw working furiously. His gaze sought Cassie's. "Thank you for clearing that up, Cassie. And you shouted it so loud that I also thank you for the citizens of this town who needed clarification of what you were doing Friday night."

Cassie kicked a trunk with her sandaled foot, bending back her big toe. "Dangnabit!" She clutched her foot while hopping on the other. Sam approached, but she held out her hand to stop him. "Don't you touch me. Haven't you ever heard that eavesdropping is rude?"

"Hey, I've been standing here for a good ten minutes waiting for you to come up for air. I'm glad I finally got your attention, because I was afraid your head was about to explode."

Her mouth opened to reply, but she quickly shut it, making her think of a bass out of water. Ignoring him, she turned to Harriet. Feeling very small, she said, "I think I just broke my toe. I'm going to go find a real doctor to look at it. I'll find you later when I've calmed down so we can talk rationally about you and what our next step is going to be. I also have a feeling I'm going to need to do some apologizing." Turning her back on Sam, she hobbled down the stairs.

She leaned against the hallway wall, breathing heavily, her heart pounding. Her first urge was to call Andrew and discuss work. She needed to throw herself into a project, be lulled by columns of figures, negotiate and placate a recalcitrant client. When working, she was competent, in control and respected. There was no fear, no need to shout, and no feelings of inadequacy. She was halfway to the phone when she realized Andrew might not be the right person to soothe her worried mind.

With a heavy sigh, she limped through the house and out the back door and headed toward the gazebo. The sun shone in sporadic fits through scattering clouds as the wet grass soaked her feet through the sandals. With damp blades clinging to her bare toes, she collapsed on one of the seats and rested her forehead on her drawn-up knees. She wanted to cry or scream but couldn't decide which. She longed for her orderly world in New York, but when she focused on the black-and-white sterility of her apartment or the stark white walls of her office, it left her cold.

Cracking open an eye, she stared at her throbbing big toe. She wasn't stubborn; she simply knew what she wanted. And sure-she was scared. Scared that her sister might be dying. But certainly not scared of admitting she was wrong. Wrong about what? That she didn't belong in Walton? Hadn't her phenomenal success in the advertising world of New York proven that?

Lord, she needed someone to talk to. But the first person that came to mind was the last person in the world she ever wanted to see again.

As if conjured up, Sam came out the back door, striding toward her across the pricker-filled grass in those damned form-fitting jeans and cowboy boots. He stopped at the bottom of the gazebo, one water-splattered, booted foot planted firmly on the bottom step. His eyes were guarded as he spoke.

"So, do you want me to look at your toe? It's either me or Dr. Clemens, the veterinarian. Then again, maybe a vet should be your first choice. You were shouting like a wounded animal back there. And at Harriet, no less. You should be ashamed of yourself."

To her complete surprise and humiliation, she began to cry. Not just tears, but fat tears spilling over her cheeks and accompanied by loud gulping sobs.

Without a word, Sam sat down next to her and pulled her into his arms, resting her head on his chest. She didn't resist, but allowed herself to be held while she soaked his shirt.

"It's . . . my . . . toe," she blurted out between sobs. "It . . . hurts."

Sam held her closer and patted her back. "Yeah, I know."

They remained like that until she had no more tears left. Slowly, she pulled herself up and took the offered handkerchief. She sent him a quivering smile. "You're not going to have any left if you keep giving them away."

His teeth shone white as he smiled. "Well, you're not supposed to keep them. You're supposed to wash them and then return them."

"Oh." She wiped her tears and mascara off her cheek, then blew her nose loudly into the white linen square.

"Let me see your toe."

She stuck out her leg for him and watched as his gentle fingers removed her sandal and placed it on the bench. She grimaced as he manipulated the digit but kept quiet. With a little smile, she said, "This is getting to be a bad habit-me with a hurt foot and both of us here in the gazebo while you try to make it better."

He didn't smile back as he let his hands rest on her bare leg. "Yeah, some habits are hard to break."

The heat from his hand on her calf burned into the skin, and she hastily removed her leg from his lap. "So, what's the prognosis, Doctor?"

"It's not broken-just bruised. Try wearing open-toed shoes or going barefoot until it's better. No high heels."

She nodded, and silence fell between them, the space filled only with the smell of cut grass and fabric softener blowing at them from the dryer vent at the back of the house.

"I'm . . . I'm sorry, Sam." She wanted to add, "For the things I've said and the way I've treated you," but her behavior appalled her, and she couldn't stand to be reminded of it just yet.

He stretched his arms out on top of the bench and crossed his long legs. "Don't think twice about it. Besides, I'm going to bill you for the consultation."

Cassie looked down, embarrassed, realizing he was trying to save her the humiliation of an apology for her dreadful behavior. She felt like a child who is spared from a much-deserved spanking.

He looked toward the tops of the houses in Farrellsford as he spoke. "I'm heading out to Atlanta now. I've got Harriet's biopsy results with me, and I'm going to schedule a few appointments for her." He uncrossed his legs and stood. "Oh, and by the way, since the conference doesn't start until Thursday, I'll have a bit of time. If you're still interested in finding your missing sibling, I thought I'd go check out birth records while I'm there."

She raised her head. "Thank you. All that sort of slipped my mind." She reached into her jeans' pocket. "I found this in the writing box. Look at the initials." She let the locket and chain drop into his out-stretched palm.

"HM and EL. Well, HM is most likely your father. But EL . . ." His forehead creased. "Nobody comes to mind right off. But I'll think about it and ask around. I'll let you know if I learn anything."

He handed her back the locket, and she slid it into her pocket, next to the crumpled piece of paper with the phone number she'd taken from her cell phone.

Cassie pushed the hair out of her face. "When I saw Mrs. Perkins in your waiting room, she told me she remembered my father saying something about a brother when I was born."

"Really? Well, that should help. I'll let you know if I find anything."

Silence fell again, and Cassie looked away, completely discomfited. She wondered if Sam also saw her naked whenever he looked at her.

"I guess I'd better go. It's a long drive."

Cassie stood, too. "Thanks again, Sam. For everything."

He raised an eyebrow in reply.