"Desperation." Why not tell him the truth? Maybe he wouldn't be so holier-than-thou if he knew he was her last choice. "My therapist didn't have time for me today, and I needed help. That's why I came to you. I don't mean to sound insulting, but that's the truth." Why should she apologize for it, especially after he'd left her waiting for twenty minutes?

"Can you tell me what your problem is?"

She turned and saw the compassion in his eyes. Finally, someone willing to listen, someone willing to help her solve everything. Dr. Leeds hadn't been able to do it. Maybe Pastor Burnie could. "There are so many, starting with my own miserable childhood."

"Were you abused?"

"I wasn't beaten or molested, if that's what you mean, but I was most certainly neglected." She turned away and looked out the window. "My mother was gone early every morning and came home about the time my grandmother and I were making supper. And then she'd go out in her garden. My mother was never interested in me or my brother, you see. She just handed us over to my grandmother and went off to live her own life as she pleased."

She faced him again. "Anne-Lynn takes after her. What's worse, she is now spending weekends with my mother, who is undoubtedly poisoning her mind with lies. I know because Anne-Lynn hardly ever returns my telephone calls." Her heart ached.

"Is that why you're here today?"

"No. Partly. It's her fault . . ." She shook her head and swallowed convulsively. Pastor Burnie looked utterly confused. "It's my mother's fault," she said, hoping that would make it clear for him. "Fred's angry with me over some silly business function I missed. I went to speak to my mother about Anne-Lynn and was so upset afterward that I forgot all about the dinner. Now Fred hardly speaks to me. He's being so unreasonable. Everything is falling apart. No matter how much I do for everyone, no one seems to care about me!"

"What do you want me to do, Nora?"

He looked and sounded so sincere, but hadn't he been listening? She wanted him to tell her how to fix everything! She wanted him to say he would come to the house and talk to Fred and make him behave like a loving husband again. She wanted her pastor to talk to Anne-Lynn and make her come home and behave like a loving and dutiful daughter. But when she looked into Pastor Burnie's eyes, she couldn't say all that because she had the feeling he wouldn't even consider doing it.

Oh, why had she come at all?

Maybe all she really wanted was the chance to talk about how miserable she was. She wanted an empathetic listener. She wanted someone to understand her and stand with her against those hurting her. At least Dr. Leeds agreed it had all started with her mother.

She rubbed at her temples. When had her life gotten so out of control? Why did everyone she loved turn away from her? Husbands, children . . . her own mother had been the first one to reject her.

"Nora?"

"I don't know, Pastor Burnie. I just don't know anything anymore."

"That's a beginning."

She turned and looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"Sometimes we have to be knocked down before we look up."

She frowned. What was he saying to her?

"I can give you one certainty, Nora. God loves you. I can assure you the answers to all your problems are found in a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. Until the center of your life changes from you to the Lord Jesus, you're only going to repeat the same mistakes and have the same heartache over and over again. It's the condition of all flesh. But God loves you. He wants a personal relationship with you. He's made that possible through Jesus Christ's death on the cross. And by His resurrection, He's shown that you have nothing to fear from Him when you come for His love and guidance."

There it was again: the insinuation that she was selfish. And what did Pastor Burnie mean about repeating the same mistakes? What was he talking about? She hadn't come to hear a Sunday school lesson. She didn't need him preaching at her. Was he so stupid he didn't know she was already a Christian? She had been sitting in the pews of this church for five years! Hadn't Pastor Burnie heard what she told him? Wasn't he listening at all?

"God doesn't want part of you now and then, Nora. He wants all of you all the time. That's what it means to ask Jesus into your heart."

"Meaning what? I'm supposed to spend every day at a women's Bible study or involved in some kind of missions work?"

He gave her that look again. Sad. Enlightened. It was as though he saw something in her of which she was not the least aware. "I didn't say that, Nora. I'm not speaking about works but about a relationship."

"A relationship you don't think I have. Isn't that right?" She allowed her anger to build. She was safe and strong inside her anger. She felt in control. How dare the pastor speak to her like this? She thought about all the times other people had said hurtful things to her, and the anger grew even more-burning coals that she fanned into flame.

People had always persecuted her. Her own pastor didn't even try to understand her pain and sorrow. Where was his Christian compassion? Where was the support? Shouldn't he feel some righteous indignation over how meanly she was being treated by her daughter and husband? Didn't it say in the Bible to honor thy mother?

Her mouth trembled. "I come to you in desperate need of help and all you can say is I need a relationship with Jesus? How dare you question my faith?" Her voice rose slightly. "After all I've done for this church over the years, how dare you question me about anything to do with religion?" Clenching her hands, she pressed down the urge to curse him.

"I'm a pastor, Nora. It's my calling to try to draw a lost lamb back into the flock."

"I'm not the one who's lost! You should be talking to Anne-Lynn. But then, you haven't listened to a word I've said, have you?"

"On the contrary."

Trembling violently, Nora snatched up her purse from the couch. "I should've known better than to come here. What do you know about counseling?"

Pastor Burnie's secretary glanced up as Nora yanked the door open. The woman's hands froze over the computer keyboard as Nora came out of the office. Ignoring her, Nora kept walking. Going out the doors of the church, she marched across the parking lot to her Lexus. Slipping into the driver's seat, she slammed the door and jammed the key into the ignition. The car roared to life. The tires screeched as she pulled out of the parking lot onto the main street. Someone pulled off a side street in front of her so that she had to slam on her brakes. Blasting her horn, Nora cursed as she pulled around the old Ford. "Stupid old fool! They should get these people off the road!"

She drove around for over an hour before deciding to go to the mall. She would walk and give herself time to think. Maybe she'd feel better if she bought a new dress. Something green. Fred liked green. Better yet, something blue. She liked blue.

She wandered through the stores, looking at the merchandise. Nothing appealed to her. Finally, weary and depressed, she stopped at the food court and bought a sweet roll and a cup of coffee. Sitting by herself, she watched the beehive activity of mothers with their children, groups of teenage girls giggling and watching the boys, boys watching the girls, older women sitting together and talking, a new mother nursing her baby in a quiet corner.

Hands trembling, she lifted her Styrofoam cup to her lips and sipped the hot fluid cautiously. She had never felt so alone before.

You can tell a tree by its fruit.

Where had she heard that? It sounded like something her mother would have said. She had always tossed out foolish little comments that didn't seem to go with the conversation.

"Good soil helps develop strong roots. . . ."

"Without proper pruning, these bushes won't bear healthy blossoms. . . ."

"Things grow stronger with some manure."

Nora had never cared about gardening.

"Come out in the garden with me, Eleanor. I want to teach you . . ."

Teach her what? How to dig in the dirt? How to tie up vines and plant vegetables she wouldn't eat? How to graft? How to transplant seedlings from the apricot or plum tree? Who wanted sprouts when they could buy a small tree from a nursery for a couple of bucks?

Her mother had never bothered to find out what interests she had. Not once had she taken Nora to a concert or a ballet, nor did her mother even consider the fact that Nora longed to go to college.

Interesting that the garden flourished while there had never been enough money for anything Nora wanted. As soon as she was old enough, Nora had gone to work at a fabric store and spent every break watching the woman who demonstrated the sewing machines. Grandma Reinhardt had already taught Nora the rudiments of dressmaking. In home economics classes in high school, Nora had learned most of what she needed to make her own clothing. No ragged edges for her. She finished every seam, lined up plaids, and picked the best and most adaptable patterns. Thankfully, she had had enough talent that she could make dresses that looked as though they had been purchased off the racks at Macy's or Capwell's. By the time she was a junior in high school, she had achieved enough skill that not one of her friends suspected that the stylish clothes she wore were homemade.

Nora remembered one high moment in her life when Miss Wentworth, her home-economics teacher, had told her that she had the talent to be a designer. Nora had warmed at such praise, though she'd had no illusions about going to school in New York or even to a local college.

She had sworn to herself then that someday she would shop for herself and her children at the best stores. She would make sure no one in her family ever wanted for all the things she had missed during her childhood. They would live in a nice home in a nice neighborhood, have nice store-bought clothes, dancing lessons, season tickets to concerts and ballets, trips to museums, poolside parties at a country club, and a bachelor of arts from a prestigious college. No child of hers would go without anything money could buy.

It had cost her dearly, but she had kept that promise. Her first husband had run from the responsibility; her second had rebelled. But she had never wavered. Not that her children had an ounce of gratitude for all she had sacrificed for them. She had put them ahead of everyone and everything else in her life, hadn't she? Wasn't Fred angry because she had put Anne before him? She was so stressed over her daughter's mutiny that she hadn't thought about her own duties to her husband. And did Anne care what anguish she was causing? No, of course not. Anne didn't care about anyone but herself. She just waltzed away without so much as a "Thank you, Mother," for all the years of driving her to gymnastics and dancing and music classes, drilling her with lessons, typing out applications, and getting records in order. Not to mention the money! Thousands of dollars wasted. Nora could have gone around the world on what she had spent on her ungrateful daughter!

You can tell a tree by its fruit.

Why did those words hurt so much?

And why couldn't she get them out of her mind?

Susan sat on the couch crying. "Raoul never should've left Barnaby in my care! I think he's going to die. Just look at him, Annie."

Annie tossed her purse on the coffee table and went to the bird. "Hello, Barnie. Hello, sweetie." Barnaby didn't do his usual dance back and forth. He didn't say anything outrageous. He didn't move at all. His feet were clenched around the perch, his feathers puffed more than Annie had ever seen them. It was true. He didn't look himself. "I wonder what's the matter with him?"

"I know what's the matter with him. I'm such an idiot! I should be shot!"

Annie glanced at her.

Susan blew her nose and looked at Annie with red, puffy eyes. "I borrowed that Shop-Vac Howard has. You know, the guy across the hall? The handyman? I was so steamed because Barnaby had made such a mess. I was vacuuming up all the seeds and dried-up chunks of fruit and vegetables and bird guano. Well, the phone rang."

"And?"

"I bent over to answer. It was Sam and I was distracted for a second. Just a second, mind you. But it was long enough. I heard this big . . . slurp. Sam heard it, too, because he asked what it was. I looked and Barnaby was gone. He must've gone through the hose headfirst." She sniffed and blew her nose.

"Maybe he broke some bones," Annie said, worried. She touched him. He didn't move.

"I guarantee he didn't break anything. Just look at my hand." She held it out. "I shut off the machine and opened it, and he was flapping and pecking and scratching. He drew blood! He was covered with seeds and bits of dried and rotten fruit and whatever Howard had been vacuuming. Dog hair, I think. I had to clean him up." She cried harder. "I gave him a shower in the sink. I tested the water, Annie. It was lukewarm. He didn't like it very much. And he looked so pathetic all wet. I didn't want him to get pneumonia or whatever birds can get, so I dried him. With your blow-dryer."

"Poor Barnaby." Annie stroked his feathers gently. "What a day you've had."

"Forget it. He's comatose. He just sits there like he's stuffed. He hasn't made a sound all day. Not a peep. He just stares." Susan buried her face in her hands and sobbed. "I keep waiting for him to keel over and croak."

"Come on, Barnaby. Perk up, sweetie," Annie said softly. The bird didn't respond. He didn't even bat an eyelash, if he had one.

"I've never liked him much, Annie, but I don't want him to die." Her eyes were red-rimmed. "Do you hear that, Barnaby? Don't you dare die!"

The telephone rang. The bird twitched once and froze again. "Poor baby," Annie said and leaned over to answer before the second ring.

"Annie, darlin'. I knew if I called often enough, you'd eventually answer."

"Hi, Sam." She smiled at his teasing.

"How's Barnaby?"

"In shock, I think."

"And no wonder. Imagine being sucked into a tornado only to land in a flood and then be dried in a desert whirlwind. Is he on his back with his feet up yet?"

"It's not funny, Sam."

"Don't worry, honey. He'll live. That bird is too mean to die."

"You should see him . . ."

"As a matter of fact, I was thinking I should drive up and check on Suzie Q."

"Uh-huh," she said dryly.

He chuckled. "You gonna be around this evening?"

"I think I'll take a jaunt to the beach."

He sighed. "Are you avoiding me?"

"I'm running for dear life."

"You've got me pegged all wrong, Annie."

She laughed. "It was nice talking with you, Sam." She handed the telephone to her roommate. "He's checking on you." Shrugging her backpack off, she set it on the floor beside the couch. She took an orange from the bowl on the counter and peeled it. Eating one section, she held another out for Barnaby. "Come on, Barnie. She didn't mean to scare you." He opened his beak, but she had the feeling it was a warning to leave him alone rather than readiness to take a bite of fruit.

"No," Suzie said to Sam. "Yes. Maybe. I don't know. I suppose I could try. All right. All right!"

Annie looked at Suzie. Her roommate was not usually so cryptic on the telephone, and Suzie's smile was faintly smug. Her good spirits seemed to be returning. The smile turned to a broad grin with a decidedly wicked gleam in her eyes.

"Right now? Oh, she's trying to tempt Barnaby with a wedge of orange." She laughed. "I'll tell her you said that, Sam. Now, she's frowning at me. Oh, really? Why doesn't that surprise me? Okay. Okay! Bye." She clicked the phone off and set it back on the coffee table with a thunk. "I have strict instructions to keep you on the premises this evening. Don't even think about leaving." She waggled her brows up and down. "My daring-and-do-well brother is bringing a friend with him, someone he says is the man of my dreams."

"That's blackmail, Suzie."

She shrugged, unrepentant, eyes twinkling. "So be it. Besides, you know how much I'd love to have you for a sister-in-law."

"You've got to be kidding. I'm eighteen!"

"Maybe it runs in the family. You told me once your mother was married at seventeen."

"And divorced by twenty."

She grimaced. "Oh. I forgot. Well, that doesn't mean it'll happen to you. When Carter men fall in love once, it lasts a lifetime."

"Suzie, your brother is not in love with me."

"The heck he isn't. I've seen him through crushes before. This is different, entirely different. He's gone completely gaga over you. I can feel the heat coming off of him whenever he's around you."

Annie felt the heat surge into her cheeks.

Susan's expression softened. "Annie, it wasn't that long ago that you had a crush on him."

"I know." She sank onto the couch and propped her feet up on the coffee table.

"So what's the problem?"

"Why does there have to be a problem?"

"I know you. You've never been free enough to enjoy your own life. This is your chance."

"I am enjoying life."

"In a restrained, inhibited sort of way. With your grandmother, no less. How safe can you get?"