He looked at her for the longest time. Then, with a tenderness worlds away from sarcasm, he said a auiet. "I know," and let himself out of the car.

Students started leaving campus at the end of Wednesday classes. Vans headed for the airport in shifts through the afternoon. Parents arrived in cars, loaded up kids and suitcases, and left.

Knowing that Sara had cross-country practice, then a study hall that was part of her punishment for leaving Mount Court without signing out, Noah didn't expect her at the house until dinnertime. Rather than cooking in, he had made a reservation at Bernie's Bearnaise, thinking that would be a special way to start the break.

Five-thirty came and went. He gave her more time, figuring that she would be packing up a few things, but when she hadn't shown by six, then six-thirty, he set off for the dorm. In the course of the two minutes that it too.k him to walk there, he imagined that she'd run off, or been abducted, or taken refuge at Paige's again.

He wouldn't have minded the last. He liked having an excuse to see Paige. They had no future, yet still she fascinated him, and not only sexually though there was that, too. She gave him a run for his money when it came to repartee. If she was down, put off balance by something he said or did, she was never down for long. She could look him in the eye, tell him he was all wrong, and turn him on like there was no tomorrow.

Besides, she was a good role model for Sara.

MacKenzie Lounge was deserted. He strode through, swung up the stairs to the third floor, and went down the hall to her room. The door was closed, but there were sounds inside.

He knocked, called, "Sara?"

"Yes?"

He jiggled the handle, but the door was locked. "Open up."

It was a minute before she did. She was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, socks but no shoes. A small television provided background chatter.

"Where ya been?" he asked, trying to keep it light. She couldn't have forgotten that it was fall break. All her friends had left. The dorm was empty. The dining hall was closed.

She shrugged. "I was just sitting around."

"But I've been waiting for you."

"Why?"

"Because you're staying with me over break." "I didn't know that," she said.

He sighed. "Sara, how could you not have known it? I left a note in your mailbox. I said we'd go to Bernie's Bearnaise. I said we'd go canoeing."

"You didn't say anything about staying with you."

He took an impatient breath. "Well, where else would you be staying?"

"Here. There are other kids around."

"Not many, and not in MacKenzie. They're over in Logan. That's the only supervised dorm this weekend." He tried to be level-headed, but he was frustrated and hurt. It was the same hurt he had felt time and again when he had come to visit Sara and been greeted coolly. He felt rejected by the one person he most wanted.

"Okay," he said, looking around the room, "just put together a few things and let's go.

We can stop by for more tomorrow."

"I'd rather stay here."

He flipped off the television. "The backpack will do fine. You don't need to take much."

"I have tons of homework to do."

"You'll need a skirt or dress for tonight.

Remember that purple outfit you wore to the play last weekend? You looked gorgeous. Wear that."

She turned away. After a minute she crossed to the desk. Keeping her back to him, she said, "You don't have to do this. I'll be fine with the other kids n He exploded. "Well, I won't, damn it. You're my daughter, and this is my fall break, too.

I've been good. I've left you alone to get acclimated to the school like any other student, but this weekend is for regenerating, and I need it. It's been a whole lot of long, lonely months. I need my daughter. I need my family, if that's what you and I can be called."

"We aren't a family," she argued, but more meekly.

"We sure as hell are. I'm the father, and you're the daughter."

"We barely know each other."

"That's why I've been looking forward to this weekend. It's about time we got to know each other, don't you think?"

She shrugged. "Things weren't so awful before n "They were terrible.

I respected the fact that your mother had her own life, a new life with a new husband, and I tried to give her room to raise you without getting in the way.

So what happened? I saw you for a day here and there, and a week once a year with my folks.

If I were to do it again, I'd do it differently. I'd fight to see you more. You'd have my name. I wouldn't be so damned deferential to Liv."

He caught himself before he said more on that score. He had sworn not to bad-mouth Liv, though he held her at fault for the breakup of their marriage. Tempering his voice, he said, "Those years are done, Sara.

I can't force you to like me, but I'm sure as hell gonna try."

Her shoulders hunched. It was a minute before he realized she was crying. He crossed the floor and took her in his arms. UAhhhh, baby.

Don't cry. We'll work things out. I promise."

She cried quietly. While she didn't wrap her arms around him, she didn't pull away, and suddenly the years disappeared. She was a toddler again, crying over a fall, and he was comforting the little girl he adored. "I know it's hard. Your life's been turned upside down in the past few months. It's natural that you're feeling unsettled. That's why it's so important for us to try with each other."

"I didn't think you wanted me around," she hiccoughed.

"This weekend?"

"All those years."

"Are you kidding?" he asked. "You saw the pictures I kept on the mantel. I couldn't pry many out of your mother, but whenever we were together I snapped away. You hated it when I did thatyou always tried to turn away, remember?but I hued through those pictures at times."

"You never came."

"I thought I was doing you a favor, minimizing the confusion about who your father was, but there's another side to that, Sara.

You never asked me to come. When I'd be leaving you off at Liv's, you never asked when you'd see me again. I was never told about things like dance recitals, even though your mother had pictures of those all over her mantel, and when you started runningwhich was my thing, you knew that because you'd seen me running when we stayed with my folksyou never said a word."