"'The last child-support payment for your daughter, Beth Cooper, is enclosed,'" Levi read. "'My client regrets to inform you that he is unable to support your daughter in her college studies, and all financial obligations end with the receipt of this payment.'"

Beth grasped her mother's arm. "You asked him to pay for my college?"

Mom sighed. "I thought it was worth a try."

Levi crushed the letter into a ball and chucked it across the room. "You shouldn't have wasted the paper."

"Your father has his own finances to worry about," Mom said. "We can't expect him to-"

"Why are you always defending him?" Levi said. "The guy is stinking rich. He left us. He left us and then got a really good lawyer who managed to bleed us dry because you didn't want a fight."

"I thought that if it turned nasty, you children would be hurt."

Levi leaped from the sofa and slapped the nearest wall loudly. "You don't have to justify yourself, Mom. Dad knew how you would react. He took advantage of your good heart because his new girlfriend didn't want you to get a cent in the divorce. I hate him."

Mom, who was all of five feet two inches, got up and wrapped her arms around Levi's waist. She had given up years ago in trying to reach her arms around his neck. He stood a full foot taller. "Come," she said. "Sit, and we will talk."

"I don't want to talk, Mom."

"You don't have to carry this."

He pulled away from his mother's arms, resisting her efforts to comfort him. "You've talked at me until you're blue in the face, Mom. I've heard it all before. It doesn't help."

"The weight of unforgiveness is crushing you," Mom said. "You've got to forgive your father, and you must forgive yourself."

"My so-called dad doesn't deserve forgiveness. If I forgave him, it would be like pretending he didn't do anything wrong."

His mom didn't reply, just giving him that sad sort of pitiful look that usually buried him in guilt. But today the anger won out, and he couldn't muster an ounce of remorse.

Beth tried to smooth things over, as usual. "He's not even our real dad, Levi. He doesn't have the same obligation to us."

Levi stretched out his arm and leaned against the wall. "He raised us since we were little. He adopted us. I think that's enough to expect something from him."

"It is," Beth said, lowering her eyes. "But lots of kids support themselves through college. I can do it."

Levi frowned in disgust. "With what? We were both cleaned out, trying to make the house payment. You can barely afford a cell phone."

"I could live at home and go to the community college. It's cheap."

"And forget about Northwestern?"

"It will be okay," Beth said, even though tears brimmed her eyes.

Levi sat on the arm of the ancient overstuffed chair and brushed his hand over his face. He thought of his plump little mammi with the laugh that could cheer up the dead of winter. "Mom, have you asked your family for help?"

Deflated, Mom plopped next to Beth and threaded her fingers together. "I wrote to them right before we lost the house. Counseling seemed to be helping all of us. We needed therapy more than we needed a house."

"They wouldn't help?" Levi said.

"They have shunned me for fifteen years. I didn't expect they would." She let out a long breath and put her hand over her face. "I never should have left."

Levi bristled. It was a regret he'd heard from Mom a thousand times since Dad abandoned them.

I never should have left. Oddly, Levi found himself wishing the same thing sometimes.

That was nonsense. Life was carefree for a seven-year-old Amish boy. It only got complicated once the boy grew up.

Levi rammed his hands into his pockets to avoid hitting the wall again. "Do they have to be so rigid about shunning?"

"It was my choice, Levi. They have to keep the church pure."

"It seems to me they would practice Christian kindness to one of their own."

Mom's voice took on a scolding tone, one Levi rarely heard from her. "How can you say that, when they were so kind and forgiving after the accident?"

A sledgehammer to the chest couldn't have hurt any worse. He stood and quickly retrieved his phone from the counter. "Every conversation comes back around to the accident, doesn't it?"

More quickly than he could have guessed, his mother was by his side. She clutched his hand and refused to let him pull away. "I did not mean to make you feel guilty. The accident was over four years ago." She grabbed his arms. "I hate to see how it haunts you. Please let go of it."

Levi shoved the phone in his pocket and headed to the door. "I will let go of it, Mom. When God sees fit to bring that little girl back, I will." He opened the door.

"Where are you going?"

"Don't worry," he said over his shoulder. "I'm not driving." He bounded down the stairs of the apartment building.

I'm going out to get stinking drunk, Mom, because alcohol is the only thing that takes the edge off the pounding, relentless guilt. But don't cry for me. By tomorrow morning I'll have put on my happy face and no one will see anything but the cheerful and pleasant Levi Cooper. With a cement box around his heart.

Chapter Three.

It took Levi a few minutes to spot Rebecca in the corner booth at the Cowtown Grill. The place was crowded, as usual, and he was a little late. His eyes passed right over her at first because she wasn't wearing her Amish dress or kapp. She wore jeans and a light yellow T-shirt that accentuated the golden highlights in her hair. The effect was a halo surrounding her face. Her silky hair cascaded over her shoulders and down her back, almost to her waist. His fingers ached to play with it.

Surprised at his own reaction, Levi folded his arms across his chest. How could he even think about running his fingers through an Amish girl's hair?

He smiled as she eyed her surroundings tentatively. Rebecca was one of those girls who didn't need makeup to look beautiful-a nice bonus if you were Amish.

He shook his head. What was he doing here anyway? What in the world had compelled him to ask Rebecca for a date?

To make Tara jealous, what else?

He surveyed the crowd of college kids at the restaurant. One of Tara's friends was bound to see Levi with Rebecca, and the news would get back to Tara before he ordered his first Coke.

Eyeing Rebecca again, he admitted that getting back at Tara wasn't the only reason for the date.

Fascination and guilt warred with each other as he gazed at Rebecca. Fascination for a girl who represented a life he used to know-so long ago but so close in his memory.... And the ever-present guilt. Guilt for his part in the accident that had taken an Amish girl's life.

That's why he'd agreed to take Rebecca skiing. He felt like he had to make it up to the whole Amish community for something that happened to a random Amish girl four years ago. His guilty conscience got the better of him.

And yet, he knew this wasn't entirely the reason either. Rebecca intrigued him. He might even say he was attracted to her, but not in the usual way. Most of the time, Levi didn't even need to work up a sweat to persuade a girl to go out. He knew how good-looking he was, and girls practically lined up to be with him. In high school, they'd hung around outside the locker room after a game for the star football player.

No, Rebecca possessed an attractive innocence and reckless naivete that Levi found oddly adorable. He was curious-that was all. Just wanted to see what going out with a girl like Rebecca would be like before he got back together with Tara. But no matter how things worked out with Tara, he'd still take Rebecca skiing. He didn't intend to go back on his promise.

Rebecca pulled a sugar packet from the square dish at her table, ripped it open, and poured the sugar into her mouth. She must be getting bored. Levi stopped staring and dodged around the tables to his date.

Sliding into the booth, he smiled at her. "Hungry?"

Blushing, Rebecca hurriedly crumpled the empty sugar packet into a tiny ball and hid it in her fist. "You are late. I thought I would get started with the appetizers."

"You look nice," Levi said. He sincerely meant it.

Rebecca looked away and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "For a few dollars at the thrift store, it is easy to look like the average American teenager."

Levi reached over and laid his hand lightly on Rebecca's wrist. "How's the arm, kid?"

She stared at his hand for a moment. "Sore and stiff. I should never have let you talk me into the shot. I could barely move my arm for three days."

"Better than being dead, I always say." He squeezed her hand and tugged her forward. Smoothing his fingers along the crisp white bandage around her elbow, he said, "Is the cut better? Are you watching for infection?"

She shifted in her seat but made no attempt to pull away from his touch. "It's amazing how someone like you could have managed to do such a good job on the first aid."

"I'll have you know, I'm a highly trained Boy Scout. I got my First Aid merit badge," he said.

A gum-chewing, ponytailed waitress came to the booth. She took one look at Levi and completely ignored Rebecca. Levi had seen it before. Girls were attracted to him, plain and simple. Rebecca was very lucky to be out with the best-looking guy in town, and she should appreciate it.

"What do you guys want?" the girl asked, staring at Levi. "We've got new flavors of lemonade. Raspberry, peach, mango, and passion fruit."

"I will have a glass of water," Rebecca said. "That is all."

Levi looked up from his menu. "Don't you want a burger or something?"

"I did not bring any money."

"This is a date, remember? You bought an attractive new outfit for the occasion. I'll pay for the dinner."

"Nae, you won't want to go out with me again if you have to pay my way for everything."

"What kind of guy would I be? Only a flake lets the girl pay. How would it look, you sitting here with your glass of water while I'm pigging out?"

"You get a free drink if you order cheese fries," the waitress said, as if this would solve all their problems.

Levi winked at her. "Thanks, but I think we'll have two bacon cheeseburgers with onion rings and a couple of Cokes."

The waitress wrote it down. "Do you want special sauce or-?"

Rebecca snatched Levi's menu. "Did you just order for me?"

"Since you're not going to order for yourself."

She glared at him. "You cannot order for me. How do you know what I like? Maybe I am allergic to cheese or hate bacon. Why do you think you can take charge of my dinner?"

"I'm paying."

Rebecca folded her arms and lifted her chin. "Then I'll have water."

Levi threw up his hands. "Okay, okay, I didn't mean to offend you and all your ancestors. I want you to order whatever you'd like."

Rebecca opened her mouth to say something.

"Except water. I forbid you to order water," Levi said.

"Would it be all right with you if I ordered water and a pizza?"

"No, get a Coke or something." She needed to put some meat on those bones.

"I can come back later if you need more time," said the waitress, still friendly but glancing with concern at the roomful of crowded tables.

"I'll have an eight-inch barbecue chicken pizza with a glass of water," Rebecca said, daring Levi to contradict her.

Levi stifled a convulsion of laugher. "I want a bacon cheeseburger with onion rings and a Coke. And bring us an extra peach lemonade and an order of cheese fries in case she changes her mind."

The waitress jotted down the order and sped off to another table.

Levi glanced at Rebecca. She sent daggers back at him.

"I hope you like peach," he stammered. Why was she so irritated? Didn't she recognize gallantry?

"Is this always your habit?" she said.

"What?"

"To think you know what I want better than I do and disregard my wishes."

"How can this be a habit? This is our first date."

"I mean, in general. You are used to getting your way, doing exactly what you want."

Levi chuckled. "You're psychoanalyzing me because I ordered cheese fries?"

"I do not know what that word means."

"I'm not trying to get my own way or anything. I just thought you might like to try the cheese fries. They've got like three thousand calories a serving. They're called a 'heart attack on a plate.'"