A Parker Family Christmas

Rating: ADULT
Category: CC/AU without Aliens
E-mail: evilalli@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: I do not own rights to Roswell or it's characters. I will use them, abuse them and put them back happy.

Summary: Two sets of twins. Four special wines. One rock. Two families. One amazing father. Two new best friends. Six banister jockeys. One session of midnight dancing. One amazing Christmas.

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Part 38

State of Grace

R.J. Conners was having a good day.

This was not particularly out of the ordinary for him because R.J. was the kind of man who was often blessed with good days. Still, today was shaping up to be an especially good one. He'd slept like a rock the night before, dug into a fabulous breakfast courtesy of Tess, run onto the field next to his best friend and to top it all off, he'd played his best game of baseball since coming to Michigan.

And now... now he got to have dinner with Kyle's dad Jeff. As far as R.J. was concerned, nothing got better than that.

R.J. loved Jeff Parker. This was also something that wasn't particularly out of the ordinary. Nearly everyone who met the man fell in love with him in a matter of minutes. There was just something about him. The moment they'd met, in the winter of R.J. and Kyle's freshman year, R.J. had felt at ease with Jeff. To R.J., Jeff was like an older version of Kyle, but with a different physical makeup and slightly tweaked mannerisms and habits. And he liked seeing the two of them interact with one another. The Parkers were a deliciously uncommon family.

R.J. pushed open the door and left the locker room for the hallway on the other side. He was met by a smiling Jeff and Tess and the moment they saw him, they rushed to him.

"That was a brilliant double play in the sixth, son."

Jeff and R.J. embraced warmly and as they pulled away from one another, R.J. said, "Thanks, but that was mostly Kyle. If he hadn't been able to get to the ball, I wouldn't have had the out to turn."

"Stop fishing. You know you're amazing," Tess scoffed and playfully tweaked R.J.'s nose in the space between the index and middle fingers of her right hand. He let her, and grinned as she moved his nose softly back and forth.

R.J. said, "I only let you do that because you feed me. I hope you know that." With his nostrils squeezed together, it sounded like he was nursing a cold.

"And I only feed you because without you, Kyle wouldn't have a double play partner that could keep up with him."

"Ouch. You know you love me. Come on... admit it. You're dying to." If R.J. was attempting to be charming, the end result was less than effective. R.J. was a charming man, but even he sounded like a geek with a stopped up nose.

"R.J.? Here's a tip." Jeff, Tess and R.J. all turned their heads to look at the locker room door that Kyle was exiting. Tess still had her fingers wrapped around R.J.'s nose and it made for a rather comical picture to Kyle, who could barely keep his laugh in. "When trying to pick up on a gorgeous woman, it's best not to sound as though you need a decongestant."

"Hey! There's no way I'm hitting on her. You know that. This isn't even close to my best material."

"Tess, make sure we pick up some decongestant for R.J. tonight, okay?" Kyle grinned and pinched R.J.'s cheek. "He always forgets to take care of himself when he's sick."

"Get off." R.J. slapped both of their hands away from his face and scrunched his face up, drawing in air quickly through his nose. He glared at Tess. "You pinch hard."

Tess laughed softly. "Baby."

"Hi dad." Kyle turned to his dad and opened up his arms. The two men embraced each other and Jeff put his open hand on the back of his son's head. "Thanks for coming."

They pulled away from each other and Jeff rested his hands on his son's shoulders. Father leaned in toward son and Jeff said, "In the sixteen seasons prior to this one, I have never once missed your opening day. What on earth would make you believe that I would miss this one?" Jeff moved back slightly and softly patted his son's cheek with an open palm. "That was a brilliant play in the sixth, by the way. And that catch above your head in the fourth? For a moment there, I was afraid your arm wasn't long enough."

Kyle grinned and scratched the back of his neck, his stomach twisting a little in pride. His father had never been shy with compliments, but the frequency of them didn't make them any easier to take. Because to Kyle - to all the Parker kids, really - there was no other person in the world who had quite the same ability to make them feel special. "I guess it was just long enough."

"Okay, who's hungry?"

R.J. stuck his stomach out and patted it with a grimace. "Ooo... me. Nothing like a game against Ohio State to make me famished."

Tess shook her head a little and waved her hands through the air dramatically. "Quick... let's feed him. If we don't he'll just go on and on and on and on and-"

"I think they get the point, Tess."

Tess patted him on the cheek condescendingly and Kyle laughed, quick and loud. Jeff wrapped an arm around R.J. and pulled the younger man to him, squeezing his shoulder. R.J. stumbled a little and the two of them started walking just behind a laughing Tess and Kyle and away from the locker room. Kyle had his arm around Tess' waist and she around his and she dropped her head onto his shoulder. Anyone could see they were happy. R.J. found himself wishing he had that sort of certainty in his life.

"So, Kyle tells us that you're not sure if you want to be drafted."

R.J. turned his head to look at Jeff and said, "It would be an honor, don't get me wrong, and one I've played for for a long time, but..."

"Even though you're amazed someone would give you that honor, you're not sure it's what you want?"

"Yeah... something like that. I love baseball, I always have... I just... I don't know."

Jeff studied R.J. for a moment. Jeff took note of the way R.J.'s eyes were moving back and forth, at the younger man's slightly hunched shoulders and furrowed eyebrows. R.J. was rubbing the tips of his fingers together with increasingly harder pressure and Jeff said, "Fear is an elusive thing, isn't it?"

R.J. stopped briefly and stared at Jeff and Jeff could be mistaken, but he almost saw a smile in R.J.'s eyes. R.J. sighed and said, "You're really good, you know that?"

Jeff smiled but said nothing and the two stood there as Kyle and Tess started to get further and further away.

"I know I'm good, but how good am I? I've never played as well as I have here, and I wonder if that's all because of Kyle sometimes. And then I start to think, well, maybe Kyle and I could be drafted by the same team and I wouldn't have to find out how good I am, but that's not all that likely. And then I start to wonder... are there other people more deserving than me? People who don't question the fact that they love the game and go out there and give everything their best, even though they aren't as good as, well, someone like me? Do they deserve the uniform and the contract more? And if I do decide to get drafted and say I have a long career... is that all I'll ever be?"

"Is that all you are now?"

They started to walk again. "Sometimes I think all I've ever been is an athlete."

"Only because you've fooled yourself into thinking that. No one is ever just one thing. It's one of the truly wonderful things about being human. What else do you love?"

"Them." R.J. indicated a happy, laughing Kyle and Tess in front of him. "I read a lot. Books on history, mainly. I like to draw. I'm not all that good at it, but I think it relaxes me." He sighed. "My little sister, and that look she always has on her face when I come home. I love that she still gets excited when I walk through the door. Uh... a lot of things, I guess."

Jeff nodded. "Yes... I suspected as much. I think the more aware you are of the things you love, the more aware you are of yourself."

"What do you love?"

Jeff's answer was immediate. "My kids." He smiled. "My kids."

"That was an obvious answer."

"Well, they can't help it, the loveable buggers. The moment each of them was born my heart expanded and adapted in a way I would never have been able to comprehend before. They have done amazing things for me, just by being alive. So it's only natural they would occupy the most central part of my heart. But I love many, many things, R.J." He paused and thought a moment, tilting his head just slightly to the side. "On Robert Frost's tombstone, it says 'He had a lover's quarrel with the world'. I think that's a lovely truth."

"But how do you balance it all?"

Jeff made a small hmm sound and said, "I don't think it's really about that. When you love something you make room for it. And the other things you love make room for it too. Your heart's always big enough to allow something new in."

"So say I'm drafted and say I have a nice, long career... is that all I'll ever be? Is that how people will see me the rest of my life?"

"Does it matter?"

"I don't know."

Far in front of them, Kyle and Tess had reached the car and were waiting patiently, leaning against the doors. Jeff smiled as he saw them and said, "What matters, really, is how happy you are with who you are. And that's easy to say, but not so easy to realize. Here's what I think: listen to your heart, R.J. No matter what, it has your best interests at hand. And no one knows it like you."

R.J. thought for a long time before saying, "Thank you. I think I know what to do now."

"I'm glad I could help, even if just in a small way."

"I take back what I said. You're not really good at this. You're frickin' amazing."

Jeff laughed.

They reached the car and Jeff said, "It would be very interesting if you both went to the same team."

"Not likely to happen."

"What's not likely to happen?" Kyle asked as he and Tess moved from their spots against the car doors.

"The two of us getting drafted together."

"Since we're probably both going in the same round, you're right."

Jeff smiled. "Oh, you never know. The universe is funny that way."

They got in the car and Tess suddenly turned to R.J. and asked, "Hey, R.J.? What did you say to the player who was on second base in the third inning?"

"The one Kyle and I picked off?" She nodded. "We might have mentioned that someone of his size probably shouldn't have been trying to steal a base. And then we may have asked where his girlfriend was, since she seemed to have just reappeared at that moment, wiping her mouth with a napkin."

"You said that?"

"Well, I believe we used far more graphic terminology than that."

She shook her head. "I pity any team that wants to take the both of you."

*~*~*

Alex whistled happily as he moved around the kitchen of the apartment he shared with his girlfriend and his twin sister. He pulled pans out of cabinets and food out of the fridge and all in all, was in the middle of making a huge mess when he turned and saw Isabel, leaning on the doorframe as she watched him. She smiled, tossed her blonde hair and crossed her arms and he grinned at her from his place in front of the sink.

"Like what you see, huh?" He lifted his eyebrows up and down quickly in a mock-lascivious fashion, pouting his lips.

Isabel laughed deeply, unintentionally throwing her head back. "Oh... you know it."

Alex adopted a fake French accent that oozed out the sides of his mouth with sleaze. "But of course. What female can resist the sexual power of Alexander Parker?"

"Me, for one." Liz breezed past Isabel and into the kitchen, grinning as she nudged her brother out of the way with her elbow. Alex nudged her right back and Liz stumbled a little with a grin.

"This is true, ma cher. But you have moi at a disadvantage. Tu es ma soeur."

"Hey... that accent is really getting good." Liz hopped up on the counter and crossed her legs at the ankles, flexing her feet in her rainbow-striped socks.

Alex smiled brightly. "Thanks! I've been working on it. How was the skeeze factor?"

"I don't know." Liz looked at Isabel. "What do you think, girlfriend of Alex? Is he skeezy enough for you?"

Isabel lifted herself from the doorway and walked over to the twins, holding her right thumb and pointer finger apart by about an inch. "Just... enough, I think." She stood in front of Alex and he wrapped his arms around her and brought his face down to kiss her.

"So what's the mess in here all about, Al?" Liz gestured around the kitchen and Alex drew back from Isabel to look at his sister.

"Today is a day of celebration, so... I thought we should have a big breakfast."

"No, no... I get that. What I'm trying to get is why you're about to make breakfast when you can't cook to save your life."

Alex pouted, a little wounded. "Hey... a guy can try, can't he?"

"Not when it comes to our stomachs, honey." Isabel patted him on the chest and Alex's arms tightened a little around her. "Sorry. The thought was nice, though."

Liz groaned. "Oh... I can't wait to finally have this thing off." She flung her left, cast-covered arm in the air. The orange cast was much dingier than it had been the first day, and it was covered with writing and pictures in black and blue permanent marker. Maria had inscribed lyrics from the song "Someone to Watch Over Me" - one of Liz's mother's favorite songs - all along the base of the cast so that they circled her arm. Every so often when Liz looked down at her cast, she would confuse Maria's handwriting for her mom's.

"Yeah, well... at least yours is on your arm. Do you have any idea how hard it is to be a rock god with a blue cast on your leg?" Alex lifted his pajama pant leg a little and flung his right leg, but succeeded only in kicking the cabinet door behind him.

Isabel moved back from Alex as he jumped away from the cabinet out of shock and laughed. "See honey? You and the kitchen don't mix."

Liz laughed and leaned her head against the refrigerator as Alex sighed, resigned to his fate. "Okay... message coming in loud and clear. Anything I can do to help?"

Liz scoffed. "Well, yeah. We need great tunes to cook to. Who else would we trust music choice to but a rock god?"

"Okay, I shall take on your challenge." Alex moved away from the counter and rotated so that he was standing in front of Liz. He put a finger in her face and said, "But only because you finally admitted the truth and called me a god."

Liz snapped at his finger with a grin and he pulled it back quickly before poking her in the forehead. Liz shoved him in the butt with the toes of her left foot and Alex laughed as he stumbled a little across the kitchen floor. He hobbled out of the kitchen and Liz hopped down off the counter. "So... what do you want to make?"

"Uh..." Isabel swiveled her head and looked around the kitchen at Alex's mess. "How about omelets? Looks like we have all the stuff for it."

"With a side of home fries, maybe? Do we have any potatoes?"

The two girls searched through the Alex-made clutter on the kitchen counters and Isabel came up with something brownish in a plastic produce bag. Holding it up in the air, she gave the bag a wary look and said, "I think I found the potatoes."

Liz stopped searching and looked up at Isabel. She wrinkled her nose. "Tell me those aren't them."

"Okay, they aren't them."

Liz rolled her eyes and smiled a little. "We have to have other potatoes. I swear I bought some just the other day." Liz opened a few other cabinets, searching each one for other, not so hideous potatoes. "Aha!" She pulled back out of the cabinet and triumphantly held up a bag of potatoes. "I knew we had to have more."

Isabel said, "Oh thank God" and tossed the bag of potatoes that once were into the kitchen garbage can. "Remind me to empty that trash before we leave today."

"You got it." Liz turned toward the kitchen doorway and shouted, "Hey Alex... how're the tunes comin'?"

The air in the apartment was suddenly filled with music and John Lennon's voice came floating into the kitchen.

Oh yeah, I'll tell you something,
I think you'll understand.
When I'll say that something
I want to hold your hand,
I want to hold your hand,
I want to hold your hand.

"Does that answer your question, Lizzy?"

"Oh yeah."

Oh please, say to me
You'll let me be your man

Alex suddenly appeared over Isabel's shoulder, just as she was chopping up mushrooms. He sang in her ear and startled her a little but she laughed immediately after and kissed him on the cheek. "Does that answer your question?"

And please, say to me
You'll let me hold your hand.
Now let me hold your hand,
I want to hold your hand.

"Oh yeah."

And when I touch you I feel happy inside.
It's such a feeling that my love
I can't hide, I can't hide, I can't hide.

Liz and Isabel danced around the kitchen and each other, singing as they beat eggs and chopped vegetables. Alex tried his best to dance but it was a mostly futile attempt, what with the cast on his leg.

Yeah, you've got that something,
I think you'll understand.
When I'll say that something
I want to hold your hand,
I want to hold your hand,
I want to hold your hand.

And when I touch you I feel happy inside.
It's such a feeling that my love
I can't hide, I can't hide, I can't hide.

Yeh, you've got that something,
I think you'll understand.
When I'll feel that something
I want to hold your hand,
I want to hold your hand,
I want to hold your hand.

After the Beatles came Fats Domino with Ain't That a Shame and after that The Go-Gos and We Got the Beat. Alex knew his music mixes, that was for sure.

Liz gave the home fries a final shake and flip in the frying pan and pulled them off the stove, singing along to the newest song on the stereo, I Can't Help Myself. The Four Tops. Another solid Alex choice.

Sugar pie honey bunch
You know that I love you
I can't help myself
I love you and nobody else

Liz twirled past Isabel and headed through the doorway and toward the table. Isabel slid the last of the omelets from the frying pan and onto the plate in her left hand and headed in the same direction as Liz. She joined in the singing and plopped each omelet down on a plate, one by one.

When you snap your fingers or wink your eye
I come runnin' to you
I'm tied to your apron strings
And there's nothin' that I can do

Alex hobbled around the table and filled glasses with orange juice as he sang. He bobbed his head and when Liz came up next to him and shimmied with her back to him, he shimmied right back, laughing.

Sugar pie honey bunch
I'm weaker than a man should be
I can't help myself
I'm a fool in love you see

They sat as the song ended and Alex reached for the remote to turn the volume on the stereo down. He stared down at his plate and smiled. "Look at this gorgeous food. Am I a lucky man or what?"

"Or what."

"You know Liz, every once in a while a simple you're welcome will suffice. Am I really asking for so much? I complement you on your cooking skills and all you can give me is..."

Liz and Isabel spared a glance and a grin at one another as Alex rambled with a smile twitching the corners of his mouth.

"Alex?"
"Alex?"

Alex looked at the two of them, startled out of his own speech. "Yes?"

"You're welcome."
"You're welcome."

*~*~*

"How long does it take to get a cast off?" An anxious Isabel stood from her plastic hospital chair with a jerk and started to pace.

Liz and Alex exchanged an amused glance and Liz said, "You know, Iz... considering you're not the one getting your cast off, you're awfully nervous."

Isabel paused her pacing and said, "Yeah, well... the last time I was in a hospital the two of you were having a hard time not being hurt and unconscious and all that."

Liz flipped her head and looked at Alex, who was seated next to her. "The lady has a point."

"True." He looked at Isabel, cocking his head to the side. "You know Isabel, that wasn't our first time in the hospital."

Isabel seemed to consider that for a bit. "I'm almost afraid to ask, but okay... I'll bite. How many times have you been in the hospital?"

"Me? Or Liz?"

"You... Liz... the both of you."

"Six times."
"Six times."

Isabel paused. "You really do do everything together, don't you?"

Liz shifted and scratched her right knee. "Technically, we've only been in the hospital at the same time three times. So it's actually a much lower average than normal for us. Only fifty percent."

"Can you blame us? I mean... what would you do if your older brother dared you to climb the roof of the main winery building?"

Isabel blinked. "Stay on the ground like a sane person?"

Liz's cell phone rang just then and she scrambled to pick it up. "Hello?"

Hey!

Liz pulled the phone away from her ear with a smile on her face and said, "It's Maria!"

"Hi Maria!"
"Hi Maria!"

"Alex and Izzy say hi."

Put me on speaker.

Liz did, and held the phone out further toward the center of the room.

Hi guys!

"Hi Maria! How are you?"

Good, good. By the way, are you aware that Hallmark carries exactly no Castoff Day cards? It's a tragedy. I mean, where's the diversity?

"Well... maybe Hallmark hasn't caught on yet to Parker Family Castoff Day celebrations."

It's a tragedy, I tell you. So... are they gone yet?

Alex sighed and said, "Unfortunately no, Maria. We remain plaster encased for the time being." Alex swung his leg back and forth, knocking into Liz's leg. She jumped and gave him a dirty look. He simply grinned.

What's taking so long?

"Doctor Brauer had a few emergency patients come in, so he needed to see them first. A little boy cracked his head open, a man accidentally speared his arm with a slat from his fence... that sort of thing."

Maria scoffed. Please... it's just a head wound. It could have waited. Don't they know it's Castoff Day? She laughed softly, enjoying the absurdity of her own joke.

"Well, Alex tried to tell them but it really came out more like a whine."

"Hey!"

Isabel smiled and stopped her pacing when she heard Maria laugh heartily from her end of the phone.

"Listen Maria... we should probably get off the phone. The hospital staff is sorta strict about that kind of thing."

Okay guys. Call me when the mean doctor finally gets off his lazy ass and cuts your casts off so we can celebrate.

"Of course."

Maria, Liz, Alex and Isabel exchanged I love yous and goodbyes and hung up the phone and after just a few seconds, Isabel resumed her pacing. Liz and Alex exchanged a look and Alex said, "So the waiting is driving you nuts, huh?"

Isabel spared him a glance laced in irritation.

Sensing some sort of coming carnage, Liz said, "Iz... why don't you get out of here?"

Isabel scrunched her forehead. "You don't want me here?"

Liz laughed shortly, realizing her mistake. "Sorry, I didn't mean that. Of course we want you here. No... I meant why don't you leave the room? Wander around, burn off some energy. Go take a walk past the nursery and coo over the babies. We promise we'll call when Doctor Brauer comes back."

"You sure?"

"We're sure."
"We're sure."

Alex made a shooing motion with his hand. "Go... enjoy yourself... spread your wings... fly. Send us a postcard when you get where you're going."

Isabel leveled him with a look that was only half as severe as it could have been and Alex blew her a kiss with a grin. She smiled, walked out the doorway and let her fingers trail along the silver-toned handle as she finally released her hold on the door.

Isabel walked slowly down the hospital hallway, her hands in her pockets and her eyes wandering every which way. A few nurses in cartoon scrubs walked by her, followed by an orderly in gray scrubs, pushing a young girl in a wheelchair. She was smiling and bobbing her head as she sang the second verse to the song Dear Liza. The orderly -- a very tall, large black man -- was grinning as he sang with her. He followed the tradition of the song and sang every other line in his deep, rich, off-key baritone. When he sang "With what shall I mend it, dear Liza, dear Liza? With what shall I mend it, dear Liza with what?" the little girl turned her head and giggled as she admonished him with the next line.

"With some stra-aw, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry. With some stra-aw dear Henry, dear Henry some straw."

They were lovely.

Isabel smiled at their backs and kept walking. She spied a sign at the end of the hallway that pointed out the direction to the nursery and she decided she'd head in that direction. With all the bad things hospitals had a talent for attracting, they were also responsible for attracting what Isabel considered to be one of the best things: the bringing of new life into the world.

Isabel didn't hate hospitals and they certainly didn't unnerve her - no one who spent their free time as a teenager cheering up sick kids in hospitals could ever feel that way - but she hated the standing around and waiting. When she was in a hospital she always felt the urge to do something. So she was glad Liz and Alex had told her to leave them be and try to burn off her un-burnoffable energy. She'd wanted an excuse to wander.

Isabel spotted the hospital gift shop up ahead and decided to take a detour. She wanted to see the babies, freshly scrubbed and new, but she'd get there eventually. No reason to rush. She walked over to the wall with the racks of magazines and her eyes wandered from the latest issue of InStyle to the Red Hot Chili Peppers on the cover of Rolling Stone to This Old House with a picture of a garden wall but her eyes stopped when she reached a familiar face.

She paid for the magazine and stared at the smiling face of Jeff as she entered the hallway and headed back toward Alex and Liz. She paid little mind to where she was going or who she might run into and she was forced to apologize more than once for her inattention. Eventually she reached the room and opened the door.

"Great timing, Iz. We were just about to call you."

Isabel looked up at Liz and noticed the doctor was now standing in the room with them. He was an older man of average height with a small potbelly and glasses. He had stark white hair and ruddy skin and Isabel imagined him on the floor on his knees, happily playing with his grandchildren.

"Hi Doctor Brauer."

"Hello again, Isabel. You're just in time to look at the x-rays with us." Doctor Brauer flipped the switch on a wall-mounted light box and stuck the x-rays up under the box's top lip, pinning them in place. He examined them a moment then said, "Well, it all looks good to me. How would you like to get those casts cut off?"

"Yes please!"
"Yes please!"

The doctor chuckled and said, "Oh, I love twins. They make life so much more interesting."

Alex and Liz looked at each other and grinned.

"Doctor Brauer?"

"Yes, Liz?"

She grinned. "What would you say if I told you we had older brothers who were twins too?"

"Really?" She nodded. "Well, then I'd say your parents must have the stamina of oxen." He laughed and turned from them, reaching for a saw that wasn't there. "That's strange." He scratched his head and removed his glass for a moment. "Looks like someone moved the saw. I'll be right back."

As he left, Alex looked at Isabel and asked, "So you visited the gift shop, huh?" At Isabel's confused reaction, he added, "You're holding a magazine."

"Oh... right." She moved the magazine so she was once again looking at the front cover. "I was looking at the magazines when I saw this." She looked up and flipped the magazine around so that Alex and Liz could see the front cover. "Did you know dad was going to be on the cover of Forbes?"

Isabel handed Liz the magazine when the shorter woman reached for it and Liz held the magazine in the space between her and Alex. They studied the picture of their dad for a few moments. He was standing in front of the tasting room's intricately carved wooden double doors with his sleeves rolled up and his arms crossed across his chest. Jeff was looking right through the camera mid grin, as if the photographer had said something terribly funny and waited until just before Jeff laughed before snapping the picture. The title of the article was printed in red, just below his arms.

State of Grace.

He looked joyful.

He looked like himself.

The door swung open and Isabel, Alex and Liz turned their eyes from the magazine to Doctor Brauer, who was now standing in the doorway holding a saw. "Alright... who's first?"

*~*~*

Jim Valenti had had a long day.

It wasn't always this way. Sometimes it was all he could do to not let the day run away from him. But then, it was the nature of his job. Being a sheriff meant that some days all he did was pick up drunks and have them sleep it off in a cell and on others, he had call after call after call, all different.

Today had been a drunk day.

He sighed as he opened his front door and pulled his jacket off, hanging it on the wall-mounted coat rack. He loosened his tie and walked into the kitchen, pulling a beer out of the fridge and twisting the cap off before leaning back against the counter just to the right of the fridge. He took his time, sipping the beer slowly, enjoying the tang of it as it slid down his throat. It was the smallest of pleasures but after a shift like he'd had, a shift that he'd wanted to end as soon as it had begun, it was just enough. It was just enough to make the irritations and unpleasantness of the day fade.

A soft sound filtered in through the open doorway of the kitchen and Jim paused with the bottle partway up to his mouth. The melodic sound stopped and started in varying degrees with moments of silence followed by bright, strong notes. Jim knew who it was. It was Maria, working on a new song.

Jim moved from the counter and walked toward the sound, down the hallway and toward the family room. He paused in the doorway and watched as she sat on the floor cross-legged, leaning over a guitar resting on her right thigh. She tucked a strand of hair behind her left ear and wrote on the piece of paper sitting on the floor in front of her with a pencil. When she was done she put the pencil in her teeth and shifted to start playing again. The melody was slow and sweet and held just the smallest hint of longing. Maria stopped after about a minute, scrunching up her nose. She was obviously unsatisfied with something.

"It's beautiful."

She removed the pencil from her teeth and tucked it behind her right ear. "It's not working, and I can't figure out why." She looked up at him. "But thank you."

"I wish I had your kind of talent. I'm not really good at anything." Jim scratched his head and shrugged, smiling a little self-deprecatingly. "I can't even sing country songs in the shower on key."

Maria sat back on her bottom, twisting the guitar in her lap up just a little. She held her guitar with her hands crossing the point where the neck met the body and she tilted her head a little to the side as she considered his words. "I don't know about that. You keep people safe everyday. That's a talent. I'm not sure I could do that."

Jim walked further into the room, tapping the partially full bottle of beer against his thigh. Jim was not a man of words. It always felt to him that he didn't know the right thing to say at the right time, and this whole situation with Maria was still a little uncomfortable to him. He didn't know exactly the right way to act around her. He had married her mom, sure, but that didn't mean he had an automatic window into Maria's mind. "This is... uh..."

Perhaps Maria sensed the awkwardness in the room too, because she finished his sentence. "Awkward?"

He sighed a little in relief. He was glad he wasn't the only one who sensed that. "Yeah."

"Why?" She had a mischievous smile on her face. "Because you were the one who had to tell my mom about what I did to Tommy Jenkins when I was nine?"

He let out a small smile. "In part."

Maria analyzed him for a minute and saw that there was something else there, something concealed beneath the surface of his face. Maria didn't think it was necessarily intentional. It seemed more like an unconscious action to her. "Jim?" His eyes met hers and he lifted his eyebrows in response. "What's the real reason?"

Jim looked at her a bit. Maria looked right back at him, patiently waiting for an answer as the tips of the fingers of her left hand absentmindedly stroked the strings of the guitar in her lap. After a while he sighed and sat down on the arm of the dark green couch, setting his beer bottle down on the nearby coffee table on top of a stack of magazines. "I've known you your entire life. I was there when you took your first steps. I caught you before you fell. Did you know that?"

Maria nodded. She did know that. She knew that story well. Her mom had told it to her many times, sometimes as she tucked little Maria into bed, sometimes as Maria put on her backpack and headed off to school. Amy had often reminded Maria that even though there were certain people in her life that might let her down, there were always other people willing to catch her. Jim was one of those people.

He wasn't the sort of man who drew attention to himself, like Jeff did and Nancy had, but he was solid and honest and true; the kind of man who was always there. In Maria's bright, colorful memories he was always the one in the back, asking nothing and silently watching over everything, making sure that everyone was okay.

"I've known you for a long time. I've watched you grow up. You said it... I was the one who had to tell your mom you punched Tommy Jenkins in the face that day." Maria laughed at that. "And I was also there the day your dad left.

"I'm not good with words or advice or anything like that. That's always been Jeff's area. Even when we were kids people asked for his counsel." He sighed a little and said, "I guess what I'm trying to say is that... even though I've known you since you were a baby, this situation is really new for all of us and... I just want to make sure that you know I'm... here... for you too, not just your mom."

"He's my dad, yeah... but he's also the man who had an uncanny knack for breaking my mom's heart, again... and again... and again." She flipped the guitar a little so the back was resting on her thighs then leaned over it, resting her palms on the floor. "He was a handsome, charismatic man who spent most of the time he was with us wishing he was somewhere else.

"You love my mom, Jim. That's more than my father ever managed to do. You're a good, kind man and you make her happy. That's something she deserved to have a long time ago. So... thank you."

Jim nodded, humbled by the kindness and sincerity of her words. He pointed at the guitar resting in her lap and said, "That's Nancy's old guitar, isn't it?"

Maria looked down at her lap and said, "Yeah, it's NiNi's. Pop gave it to me at lunch a few weeks ago. He said she wanted me to have it."

Jim looked at the guitar fondly. "I remember when she was teaching all of you to play. You were all so small." He laughed softly. "I was sure your arms weren't going to fit around the thing."

Maria laughed. "They didn't. None of our arms did."

"But you all learned."

"NiNi was a great teacher. She was always incredibly patient."

Jim scratched behind his left ear. "Well, she had four children. Five if we include you. I imagine she had to be patient."

"I miss her so much sometimes."

"Well, she's not far." He stood from the arm of the sofa and walked over to Maria, looking down at the guitar. "She left a piece of herself with all of us, I think. When someone matters to you, that's just what happens. Nancy will never really be gone."

The expression in Maria's eyes changed and a slow smile began to spread over her face. "Jim... I think you just fixed my song for me." She pulled the pencil from behind her ear and quickly started to write on the piece of paper on the floor in front of her.

A slightly confused Jim said, "You're welcome" and smiled as Maria looked up briefly and gave him a wide grin. He wasn't exactly sure what he had done, but apparently it was something good.

He walked across the family room but spared Maria one final glance over his shoulder before he left the room. She was still writing like mad, a smile on her face. She looked a lot like her mother right then, caught up as she was in something she loved.

His day suddenly felt like it hadn't been nearly so long or tedious.

*~*~*

"I have no idea what I'm going to do."

"You mind clarifying that?" Michael poked his head out of the kitchen and looked at Max, who was scrubbing his face with his hands. Max had just woken up and was sitting at the table in his pajamas and bare feet, yawning and bleary-eyed.

"I'm talking about when we graduate. I have no idea what I'm going to do when we graduate."

Michael narrowed his eyes a little, as if he was thinking the answer was obvious. "You're going to New York."

Max nodded but said, "Beyond that, Mike. I have no idea what to do with my degree." He dropped his head onto his arms, looking down at the surface of the table.

Michael stepped out of the kitchen and said, "Well... what do you love?"

Max lifted his head up. "Your sister."

Michael smiled. "Have you talked to anyone about that?"

Max grinned. "About loving your sister? Call me old-fashioned, but I think that's between me and Liz."

Michael snorted and sat down across from Max at the table. "I swear, sometimes you're more difficult to have a conversation with than Alex."

"Is that an insult? I can't tell."

Michael laughed, short and quick. "That's because you look like death. Did you sleep at all last night?"

"Uh..." Max scrunched his face up and unfocused his eyes briefly as he mulled over Michael's question. "I think I got about twenty minutes somewhere between two and three AM." At Michael's surprised look, Max added, "No, it wasn't that bad. I was just... in and out all night. Restless."

"Why?"

"We're getting closer and closer to graduation and everyone I've talked to knows exactly what they're going to do. I, on the other hand, have absolutely no clue at all."

"Hmm. Well, have you told anyone that? Talked to someone?"

"I'm talking to you."

"Someone with more experience than me, Max. I've known what I was going to do since I was a kid." Max shook his head, partially, Michael thought, to try to chase away the cobwebs floating around in his head. "Look... call dad. If nothing else, he always knows how to make you feel better." Michael stood, clapped Max on the shoulder and walked back to his bedroom.

Max watched Michael walk away from over his left shoulder, keeping his eyes fixed on his best friend's back until he was out of sight. He tapped his fingers on the table and dropped his chin into his left hand as he stared at the phone, seated on its docking station across the room. He watched the red light blink every so often, letting Max know there was a saved message on the machine. It was from Kyle. Michael had called his twin brother after Kyle's win against Ohio State and this was Kyle's return call. Michael had smiled as he listened then immediately pressed the button to save the message when it was done.

Max got up from the table and walked over to the phone. He pressed the play button on the answering machine and stood there, scratching the back of his neck as he listened.

Saved... message. Thursday... eight... twenty-four... PM.

Hey Mike, thanks for the call. Looks like you called me just as I was leaving the field. But you're always the first, so...

Kyle laughed.

Sorry I didn't call sooner. Dad flew in and we've been out at dinner. You know how we say that dad always seems to be in the right place at the right time? Yeah, it was another one of those times.

Kyle paused and switched gears, obviously knowing he only had so much time before the machine cut him off.

Interesting you mention that play in the second inning. No one else did. But as I was reaching for that ball, I knew there was no way I was going to catch it. No way. But... I did. I guess you're right... some part of what I do is just what I already know. Eliminate the thinking and the guesswork and the anticipation and it always comes down to what I already know. So I'm probably telling you something you already know, but you're right Mike... my brain didn't make that catch. I did.

Kyle laughed again.

Damn... you're too smart for your own good sometimes. But there's something about it, isn't there? Eliminating the thinking and just doing?

Kyle paused a moment. This was the part of the message Max didn't really understand. Most of the message sounded exactly like any other message from Kyle, but this part didn't make any sense at all to Max. But it didn't matter if Max understood it, really. The message wasn't for him. Michael... well, Michael seemed to understand it completely. Had Michael saved the message for the cryptic words or had he saved it for the entirety of his brother's voice?

Chaos and peace. That's always the last thing I think of before I take the field. But... I think you knew that too. Buddha once said that whatever words we utter should be chosen with care, for people will hear them and be influenced by them for good or ill.

Chaos and peace.

Kyle paused again and Max heard a sound in the background.

Alright... Tess is calling me back to the table. I love you. And thanks for the call.

There was silence for about a second before the answering machine chimed in.

End of... messages.

Max stood in front of the phone a while longer, scratching the back of his head. Michael came out of his room a bit later, dressed and ready for class. Max turned and asked, "Psychology class?"

"Yeah." Michael picked his jacket up off the back of one of the dining room chairs and slipped it on.

"How's that going?" Max walked into the kitchen and pulled a bowl down from the cabinet.

"Eh... it's not as bad as I thought it was going to be. I'll see you later tonight." Michael picked up his backpack and headed toward the front door.

"Later."

"And call dad."

*~*~*

Michael looked down at his notebook as he took notes on the lecture. He shifted in his seat, listening as Professor Rinter went on about environmental factors in human development. He was only about half-listening and doodled in the margins of his paper when the professor started to elaborate on a topic Michael had already written down the facts for. Professor Rinter had a habit of droning on, and his voice had a way of making Michael sleepy. Still, the class was more interesting than he'd thought it would be and he figured that at the very least, he could learn something and bring it back to Parker Vineyards.

The talking ceased and Michael lifted his eyes from his paper as the professor said, "Yes, Mr. Herring?"

A man with pale skin and short, curly blonde hair lowered his hand and said, "I was wondering what effect birth order had on the psychological development of a child."

Michael looked at the other student briefly before turning his head to Professor Rinter, who lifted his eyebrows quickly then sat down on the edge of his desk. "Well, that's debatable. Some psychologists feel that birth order is important and some feel that it's far too inaccurate to include as a valid factor in development. Birth order really lies in the realm of pop psychology." The entire class continued to stare at him and he added, "Over time, it has been discovered that birth order isn't always accurate. There are many cases I could site, in fact, where the children in a family don't follow the rules of birth order for development. But there are also many cases I could site who do.

"What it really comes down to, Mr. Herring, is that birth order may have an effect, but it probably doesn't. It's much more likely that other factors are far greater influences on development, like how old the parents are or how involved the extended family is."

"Let's say it does have an effect. What would that look like?"

Proffer Rinter shifted on his desk and crossed his arms. "Well, it tends to follow a similar pattern. Oldest children are the most responsible, and the ones who feel it's their job to take care of their family. Second children tend to be team players... they do well in team sports. They learn early to help out, and they're probably the most easy-going. Third children tend to be mediators. They're interested in everyone getting along and they tend to take the world on their shoulders sometimes, just to make people happy. The youngest child is the sweet, carefree one. They do well socially and often feel that they can take risks.

"But keep in mind that any of these roles can be switched around, due to other factors."

"Like what?" That was another student, a girl with long brown hair and a little upturned nose.

"Like... great loss, for instance. Death of a parent or child can reverse birth order positions. Also, if one or more of the children are mentally or physically handicapped in some way that could effect birth order positions as well." The students were silent but nodded their heads and the professor said, "Does that answer your question? Good."

Michael looked back down at his notebook as Professor Rinter continued where he'd left off in his lecture and glanced at the doodles along the margin. There was a number one, a two, a three and a four, block style with shading, and underneath the numbers he'd written a name.

One. Michael.

Two. Kyle.

Three. Liz.

Four. Alex.

He stared at those names a while, so long the letters began to look wrong to him.

One. Michael. The responsible one.

Two. Kyle. The team player.

Three. Liz. The mediator.

Four. Alex. The social butterfly.

Michael lost all thought of following the professor's lecture. Alex and Liz had switched positions. Birth order may have been one of the softer areas of psychology, but the names and numbers were screaming at him from his paper.

One. Michael.

Two. Kyle.

Three. Liz.

Four. Alex.

One who felt the need to protect everyone they loved, one who understood when to compromise but always fought until the end, one with the weight of the world on her shoulders who never once asked why me and one who had an uncanny gift of making anyone, anywhere, smile.

Michael repeated two of the phrases over and over in his mind, adding a different emphasis every time.

The weight of the world on her shoulders.

An uncanny gift of laughter.

The weight of the world on her shoulders.

An uncanny gift of laughter.

The weight of the world on her shoulders.

An uncanny gift.

When did Liz and Alex switch?

Michael glanced up at the professor briefly then looked back down at his notebook.

The weight of the world on her shoulders.

Michael sighed, shut his eyes and dropped his head down into his hand. She'd done it for them because they needed it but they hadn't taken the time to tell her what it meant. They hadn't taken the time to tell her they appreciated her. They hadn't thanked her for any of it. She had thanked them countless times but they hadn't thanked her once. At least, he didn't think he had. He was grateful for her more and more all the time, but had he ever told her that?

Michael wasn't the kind of guy who said so much as did, but did Liz understand that? All of a sudden, he wasn't so sure. He wasn't sure that his actions translated to words for her and the very thought of it was making him anxious. He wanted to be out of his classroom and on his way to figuring out if he'd actually done something wrong at all.

And Michael couldn't help but think that as observant as he was sometimes, there were other times when he just might be considered the densest man in the entire state of Illinois.

He really hoped he wasn't.

- - -