I haven't talked to Helen since I returned to Paradise Falls. I think the last time we spoke was even before the water park trip, before I left town. I walk over to her as she tugs on an oven mitt, take the other one and pull it on my own hand.

"I'll get that."

She stands up straight and looks at me.

Helen is taller than either of her daughters, thinner in build and her hair is a dark honey color, not jet black like Alexis and May's; they got that from their father. I barely remember him- we didn't talk much, but he always seemed to like me, even during that attached at the hip phase where I spent every free moment of my fourteen year old life with his daughter.

Helen never treated me with more than cool distance, and as far as I knew, my father looked down on her. She worked as a waitress when Alexis was little and took on a second job at the auto parts store after her husband died.

I wasn't sure why she didn't like me. I thought maybe it was because my family has money, or she was just leery of having a boy around her daughter, although in those days I didn't think of it in those terms.

Today she's dressed as I would expect my father's wife to dress- a flowing, floor length floral pattern dress, frilly ap.r.o.n, minimal makeup and her hair loose, hanging to her shoulders, held back only by a pink barrette. She looks like someone's idea of a fifties housewife Halloween costume.

Without a word, she slips the glove off her hand and pa.s.ses it to me. I tug it on and lift the turkey onto the hot pads she left out on the counter.

"It has to rest," she says, flatly. "Will you help me serve?"

"Sure. How have you been? We haven't really talked."

"No," she says, curtly. "We haven't."

Without further comment she muscles the big stock pot off the stove and dumps it into a colander, tosses the potatoes back in and pours in milk to mash them. I stand there with my arms folded.

"You can help with the stuffing."

I nod and fluff the pan full of stuffing with a fork, and pour it out into a serving dish. It's the stuff in a box, nothing fancy. Besides the potatoes, there's some baked sweet potatoes and real cranberry sauce bubbling in a smaller saucepan. In spite of myself, my mouth starts watering at the smells. The turkey looks d.a.m.ned good, too. The skin is a nice crackling brown.

Looking at it, I feel my stomach sink.

There was a time when I enjoyed this. This big Sunday meal was the highlight of my week. My mom could cook; she could put a trained chef to shame and make anything, even stuff like beef wellington and souffles and everything.

As Helen stands there mashing the potatoes in grim silence, the kitchen as it is fades from my sight and is replaced with the kitchen from my mind. Bright and airy, sunlight streaming in as Mom sweats over some part of the meal.

A twinge in my gut snaps me out of it as I realize that Alexis never ate with us before I left town. Mom said yes, Dad said no, family only. I wanted her to eat dinner with us so bad, especially after she lost her father. There was room for her, but she wasn't invited. She never asked me about it, either.

So, when I carry the big bowl of potatoes out into the dining room, it's a bit of a shock to see her sitting there next to her sister. Lance walks in the room just as I do and our father shoots him an annoyed look as he sits down next to May and pulls up his chair.

"You're late."

Lance shrugs. "Yeah, sorry about that."

He gives me a look of his own as I walk back into the kitchen and carry out the stuffing in one hand and green beans in the other. By the time I head back, Helen has finished slicing the turkey and gives me the serving platter, then follows me out with the b.u.t.ter in the gravy.

G.o.d it all smells good.

My stomach twists as I sit down facing Alexis and picture that pot of coffee sitting on the counter, the last time I saw my mother. I shoot my father a glance before I can stop myself and sigh when I remember how this works. Every plate and bowl will be pa.s.sed from person to person.

n.o.body says grace, or anything like that. My father serves himself, pa.s.ses the turkey to Lance, and the dishes start going around. They come to me last and I pile up a heaping portion of everything, leaving enough so anyone can have seconds.

After years of Navy food, I don't care where it comes from, I'll take a home cooked meal. My father breaks the silence with the sound of a knife on his plate and everyone at the table digs in.

May attacks her plate and Alexis elbows her, to slow her down.

"Alexis, would you pa.s.s the salt?"

She gives me a sharp look, picks up the salt shaker like she plans to stab me with it, and slaps it hard on the table in front of me. I shake some out over my food, tear a dinner roll open and smear b.u.t.ter on it.

"This week," my father announces as he slices his meat, "We will be holding our first major campaign event. I expect everyone to be there."

He looks at me now, as he takes one long dragging slice through a piece of meat, spears it, and raises it impaled on the end of his fork. His gaze never slips from me.

"You'll all be representing me. I can't stress how important this is."

He chews thoughtfully.

"What sort of event?" Alexis asks, softly.

"I'll be giving a speech at the fire hall. I don't expect to have to do much stumping."

"You are running unopposed," Lance snickers.

"You find that amusing?"

"I don't see the point of all the pomp and circ.u.mstance," he says. "Everyone in town knows you're going to be mayor. Waste of time and money if you ask me."

"You have something better to do?"

He shrugs. "I might."

"I doubt that. If I didn't find busywork for you with the company, you'd spend your days lazing about or fraternizing with bar s.l.u.ts."

"Thanks, dad."

I don't say a thing, I just eat. Alexis keeps looking at me; I try not to meet her glances.

"Sorry we can't all be war heroes," Lance grumbles.

I feel something touch my leg.

Alexis smirks around a bite of potatoes and looks away from me. That's her foot, rubbing my calf.

d.a.m.n it. Is she out of her mind?

"I can't wait," Helen says, a hint of tension in her voice. "I'm so proud of you, darling. A man of ambition."

Alexis frowns, and her foot pulls away.

Wait a minute, I'm not the one who said it.

Her mother must have hit a sore spot. Her shoulders hunch and she leans on the table, swirling a piece of turkey around in gravy and mashed potatoes. I nod at her.

"If you're not going to eat that, I'll take it."

"Go to h.e.l.l," she says in a flat voice.

"Alexis!" Helen snaps.

My father leans back, eyes appraising.

Alexis drops her fork with a clatter on her plate and shoves it towards me.

"Here, knock yourself out. I had turkey for lunch. Can I go?"

"No," Helen snaps.

"Yes," my father says. "It's all right, sweetheart."

Shrugging, I pull the plate of food across the table and eat what Alexis left behind as she drags herself up the stairs. A few seconds later her door slams loudly enough to echo off the walls. Helen sits perfectly still, her fork trembling slightly.

"Keep your forks," my father says, "there's pie."

"I'm sure she's just in a mood," Helen says, her voice shaking.

"She's fine," my father sighs. "Long day yesterday and I dragged her to a business lunch today."

"I'm not really a pie mood," May says softly, pushing back her empty plate. "Can I go?"

"May I," Helen corrects. "Clear the table and bring out the pie first."

Sighing, May rises and stacks the empty plates until she's struggling with them, stacked against her chest. I almost stand to help her, but Lance is watching me, his eyes locked on me for some reason. I sit back and let May carry out the serving dishes.

"Set those in the fridge so I can keep the leftovers," Helen says, idly.

May deposits two pies on the table, a cherry and a lemon chiffon, and stands by them.

"I can go, right?"

Helen scowls.

"Go," my father says, absently. "Howard," he uses my given name pointedly, "Pa.s.s down that lemon pie."

I set it in front of him and stand up, and pat my stomach.

"I like to stay in fighting trim."

"Suit yourself. Helen bakes a fine pie."

I start towards the stairs and Lance sneers.

"Following Alexis?"

"No," I say without missing a beat, "Heading out back."

I manage to pa.s.s the stairs without stumbling, thump across the back deck and down the old wooden steps, and stand in the yard.

Something makes a rhythmic sound over my shoulder. Sighing, I turn and look up to see Alexis hanging out her window, scowling at me. She beckons with her hand. I nod, but sit on the back step and lean back, sighing.

I can't just run right up there, it's too f.u.c.king obvious. I hear the same noise, Alexis' hand slapping on the side of the house. Sighing I stand up and walk back into the house. Helen ignores me as she scoops mashed potatoes and pours gravy into Tupperware, and the dining room is clear. I trudge up the steps, pausing to look around before I swing over and tap Alex's door with my knuckles, lightly.

The door snaps open and she tugs me inside by the arm, closes the door softly and locks it, then lets out a breath.

She turns around and covers her mouth with her hand, a strangled little sob coming out of her mouth.

"I can't do this anymore," she says, so softly. "Hawk I can't take it, I can't stand him. Did you hear what he called me?"

"What?

"Sweetheart," she hisses. "I can't f.u.c.king stand it. If you ever call me that I will kick you in the b.a.l.l.s, I swear."

"I believe it."

As she hugs herself, I rest my hands on her shoulders. She freezes, then relaxes a little.

"We shouldn't be in here together," she sighs.

"Who f.u.c.king cares?" I whisper.

I duck in to kiss her and she pulls back. "We have to be careful, Hawk. I want to talk to my friends about this rally thing. I think we need to follow Tom if he leaves tonight, too. See where he goes, who he's meeting with."

"I'll do it. You stay here."

"No. I have to see this through."

"Why? Let me handle it."

She pulls out of my hands. "It's my fight too, Hawk. I'm sick of this. I'm sick of my family living in fear of that monster."

Her voice softens. "He took my mom away from me. He took you away from me."

"How long did it take before they got married? After I left."

"You were gone in what, June? They married in October. A few months."

I sit on her bed. "I thought they hated each other."

Alexis sighs and sits next to me. "So did I. Not that they were around each other much."

"Jesus," I whisper. "Alex, what if they acted that way for our benefit?"