Chapter 6

You could hear a pin drop after Trixie’s startling conclusion. For her part, the only sound she could hear was the ocean roar of her own heartbeat pounding in her ears.

John Simms recovered first. "Get over there now. Take Stewart," he said tersely into the phone, disconnecting the speaker and ending the call. He looked at Trixie. "Everything," he said to her firmly, taking her hand in a firm grip.

Trixie dug the nails of her free hand into her palm. God help me…Think, think, think like you never have before! "Regan!" she said, releasing John’s hand, flipping open her cell phone and punching in the number from memory. "That’s where he was headed when I spoke to him before. Dan, call the school—memory button one." There was another tense moment of silence as Dan and Trixie waited.

"The line’s been cut to the stables," she said, her voice strangled, closing the phone.

"How do you…" Dan looked sick.

"The answering machine should have picked up after four rings. It didn’t." She didn’t need to ask if the school phone was the same. If there was any doubt about Trixie’s hypothesis, it was gone now. "It’s 3:15. Jim’s interview is at 4:00, which means he has to leave no later than 3:40." Trixie bit her lip. "I think we all know there is no interview. He’s going to be somewhere in between the stables and our driveway any minute." Obviously just where Kyle wants him to be. Trixie felt her vision begin to waver slightly, gripping her cellphone so tightly a small crack formed in the plastic.

"My Unit’s parked right outside," Dan said jumping to his feet. Trixie opened her bottom right hand drawer and removed her seldom-used revolver. "Do you…"

Dan wordlessly opened his jacket.

"Good." To Dan and John’s amazement she handed her gun to John. "I’m shaking like a leaf," she admitted. This was no time for stupid pride. He checked the safety and hauled her to her feet. "Your brain’s not shaking," he said firmly, giving her shoulder a squeeze.

Trixie shot him a sideways glance of gratitude as they beat it out the door. It wasn’t an accident that the men and women who served under him trusted him so completely. They tumbled into the car, the tires squealing as Dan pulled out of the parking lot. Trixie felt a wave of nausea as he made a hard left, the speedometer almost instantly up to 60, 70, 80; Dan expertly weaving in and out of the light traffic. The nausea turned to ice as she heard Dan speak to the dispatcher, requesting paramedics sent to the scene.

Dan hung up the radio. "We can’t know what we’re going to find when we get there," he said, never taking his eyes off the road, his voice gentle.

Trixie knew it was standard procedure, but couldn’t prevent the wave of dread that threatened to completely overwhelm her. "I know," she answered shakily, gripping her hands together. She shut her eyes as Dan ran the just-turned-red light, swerving to the right, barely avoiding a convertible mustang that must have gunned through his yellow. "Wanker," Dan muttered, grabbing Trixie’s arm before she rammed into the door.

Trixie felt a hysterical laugh bubble into her throat—was it possible that only a few nights ago she, Dan and Jim were laughing their butts off watching Monty Python? Please God, please God, let him be okay, I’ll never ask for anything else, not ever, not ever, not ever…

RT-9A NORTH/RT-100 NORTH, Trixie read, grabbing the door handle as Dan merged onto Route 100, taking the Briarcliff Peekskill Parkway ramp to Sleepyside. "Four miles to go," Dan muttered tensely, glancing sideways at Trixie’s still, white face. Thanks to Dan’s driving, less than 10 minutes had passed, but it felt like an eternity to her. Right on Albany Post Road, left on Old Telegraph Road…Dan made a sharp left onto Glen Road, almost hitting a deer that wandered in front of them. I know how you feel Bambi, Trixie thought inanely, noting the wide-eyed look of terror on the animal’s delicate face. They turned onto the long drive that led up to Jim and Trixie’s home, screeching to a stop as Coop and Stewart came out the house.

"Empty," Coop said, his gun still drawn as they jumped out of the car.

They eyed Jim’s Tahoe, the same thought crossing all of their minds. "It can’t be an urban legend all of the time," Dan said softly, removing his weapon, clicking off the safety. Trixie removed her keys from her fanny pack, her thumb poised over the door release as they circled the truck. "One…two…three!" she hissed.

*     *     *

"If you think they’re ready, that’s good enough for me," Jim said to Regan, the two red-haired men standing in the Ten Acres Academy stables. He grinned at his longtime friend. "I would never dare question you in the holy confines of the stable!" Jim learned about the role that horses can play in helping troubled youth from one of his college professors, and being an avid rider himself, knew immediately that he wanted a full stable at the school. He was beyond glad that he was able to persuade Regan to run the project, especially considering that he had his own horse training business to take care of. But Regan, his own troubled youth anything but a dim memory, was only too glad to take on the job, the program intriguing him. He knew too well that horses offer unconditional friendship, experiencing as wide a range of feelings as people. Plus, they let you know in no uncertain terms how they are feeling, incapable of dishonesty. As far as Bill Regan was concerned, there was no better way to teach these kids mutual trust, love, loyalty and friendship. Plus, a little hard work never hurt anybody.

Regan grinned back. "Even if it’s your stable?"

Jim shook his head. "As far as I’m concerned, it’s your stable—you’re the one who makes this program work. Dad often used to say that if you ever quit he’d sell all the horses, and now I know firsthand what he was talking about. Man, we must have drove you crazy sometimes!"

"Ah, you guys weren’t so bad—I just used to let you think so. Figured it kept you on your toes." He laughed, patting Jim’s horse Jupiter on the neck. "Heck, I had to do something to keep Trixie somewhat in line. I’ll never forget her jumping on Jupe’s back and taking him for a spin when she didn’t even know how to ride yet!"

"You mean him taking her for a spin, don’t you?" Jim responded, smiling wryly. If he was going to be completely honest with himself, it was that impetuous, take-no-prisoners attitude that attracted him to her in the first place, even if it did cause the occasional hazard. And of course, the current situation wasn’t her fault. Jim felt a twinge of remorse at his initial reaction; even though she forgave him, he still wished he could take back those hateful words. I find out some psycho attacked the woman I love, and instead of offering my support, I accuse her of keeping secrets from me. Way to go!

"How’s everything going?" Regan asked, noting Jim’s suddenly troubled expression, knowing the cause and feeling his own fury at their current situation again fill him.

Jim knew without asking what Regan meant. "He’s still leaving his little hate bombs on her answering machine," he replied, his voice tightening.

Regan shoved his hands in his pockets. "Just five minutes, man. Five minutes, that’s all I ask."

Jim laughed humorously. "Take a number."

He nodded, clapping his hand on Jim’s shoulder.

Jim looked at his watch and rolled his eyes. "I’d better get going. Believe it or not, I’m meeting with a reporter for an interview."

Regan’s eyes widened. "Really? I thought you hated that kind of thing."

"I do, but…" Jim shrugged.

Regan started walking back to his office, passing the well-kept stalls, noting each animal with a practiced eye. "Have fun!" he called breezily over his shoulder.

"Oh thanks!" Jim walked out of the stables.

Regan was just entering his office when he heard Jupiter give a short, angry sounding snort. What’s bothering him? he wondered. Before he could turn around he felt a sharp blow on the back of his head, his tall frame pitching forward as he lost consciousness.

Kyle Dalton stood over his limp form, his mouth twisting upwards. "One red head down, one to go," he said aloud, silently congratulating himself on his own cleverness. He thought they’d never stop talking—even hiding in the tack room he could smell the horsy smell of the stables—it made him ill. He couldn’t see why anybody would want to ride some animal when a car was so much faster and easier to deal with. He would never admit to anybody that he was actually quite terrified of them. Kyle trembled with anticipation. Any minute now my revenge is complete. Three years of planning leading to this one moment of destiny. He licked his lips, imagining Trixie’s heartbreak when they found Jim’s body, feeling an intense satisfaction. She’s going to feel so bad. Maybe the stress will make her lose her baby! Kyle brightened at this, almost laughing with glee over the thought of that unexpected bonus. And to think my High School guidance counselor said I’d never amount to anything. What did that bitch know? She actually knew quite a bit, recommending to Kyle’s outraged parents that he needed intensive counseling for his misplaced anger, the Dalton’s unable to conceive of their precious darling having any kind of mental problem. Kyle shifted his stolen gun from hand to hand, ready to fulfill his destiny at last.

*     *     *

Trixie depressed the door release and Coop, Stewart, Dan and John each quickly opened a door, pointing their guns in readiness.

"Nothing," John said, closing his door. The others followed suit, gathering in a loose circle around Trixie, who let out her pent up breath slowly. "Where are the stables?" he asked her.

"Down this hill to the East of here," she replied. "The school is to the Northeast, through the woods along this trail," she pointed, keeping her voice brisk, ruthlessly pushing her dismay down, down, down.

Dan took her hand, not fooled by her business-like tone. "Let’s head down to the stables," he said, glancing at Simms, who nodded.

"Johnson, you and Stewart head towards the school. And for God’s sake, be careful," he added unnecessarily. The two men nodded and took off, tense and alert.

The three of them headed for the school stables, Trixie never more aware of the sound of footsteps and breathing, straining to hear, to see—afraid, oh so afraid of what they might find...

***

 

Jim heard the sound of a horse’s whinny and fancied he heard a slight thump. "What the…" he muttered out loud. He turned and re-entered the stables, freezing at the sight of a gun pointing straight at him.

"Meet the reporter," Kyle said sarcastically. "Ready for our interview?"

Jim hadn’t hung around with Trixie all these years for nothing; plus he was no slouch in the deductive reasoning game himself. He knew almost instantly that this had been his game all along. "Kyle Dalton?" he asked through gritted teeth, the hatred in his voice palatable, his eyes glittering as his hands clenched into fists, drawing himself up to his full 6’2" height.

Kyle took an involuntary step backwards before remembering his advantage. Hey, I’m the one with the gun here! "That’s right," he replied, trying to match Jim’s tone and posture.

"What do you want?" Jim asked coldly, the most intense anger he’d ever felt filling him, coming off of him in waves as he stared down the man who had caused Trixie so much grief.

Kyle suddenly felt unsure of himself; uncomfortable, his reasons no longer clear. What is it about this guy? He gave himself a mental shake. "What I want is the past three years of my life back. But since that’s not possible, I’ll just have to settle for some garden variety revenge." His hand tightened on the gun, his cheek twitching.

"And just what do you think killing me will solve?" Jim’s mind was racing as he weighed possibilities. Should he try and get the gun away? This guy didn’t look very strong. Jim could feel the urge to pummel this guy fill every muscle.

Kyle laughed a bitter, hard laugh. "Plenty. She’ll be wrecked. She’ll live out the rest of her life knowing that you’re dead because of her. She’ll know the kind of suffering I’ve known." He took a step towards him, welcoming the intoxicating wave of self-righteous anger filling his veins, giving him strength.

"You think she’s just going to lay down and die or something? You really don’t know her at all." Jim’s expression hardened as he locked his gaze on his. "You think you’ve suffered? Do this and you’ll know true suffering. She’ll hunt you down, you’ll spend the rest of your life in prison, maybe even get the death penalty. And it won’t just be her…"

"Shut up! Shut up!" Kyle hissed. His eyes got a faraway glaze in them, what little sanity he had left evaporating. He suddenly knew that if he was going to do this, it had to be now. "Enough talking," he said, his voice quiet with menace, his finger beginning to pull the trigger.

Jim knew without question that this was it, a sudden memory flooding him. He remembered opening his eyes to find himself being stared at by two young girls—one obviously nervous, her hazel eyes uncertain, the other frankly curious, her blue eyes showing no fear even when he leapt to his feet, grabbing his rifle…it sometimes seemed to him that his real life began at that very moment…

***

 

Trixie, John and Dan stilled as they heard voices coming from the stable, unable to make out any words. Trixie’s face lost what little color she still had as she recognized the unmistakable pitch of Kyle’s voice, her breath trapped in her throat. She swallowed hard. "It’s him," she whispered.

"Is there a back entrance?" John asked.

Trixie nodded, not trusting her voice.

"We’ll size things up through the front." John voiced in an undertone. Dan made his stealthy way around to the back as John and Trixie crept to the entrance, John with Trixie’s gun cocked and ready, Trixie marveling at his calm and cool professionalism, grateful for it. They entered the stables, her heart dropping all the way down into her stomach as she immediately comprehended the situation, her eyes meeting Jim’s in one startled instant.

"Drop it!" John yelled. His thirty-plus years of experience told him Kyle had no intention of complying and he fired instantly, the bullet hitting Kyle in the brachial nerve, effectively severing the nerve connections in his arm. Kyle howled in pain as the gun dropped to the ground, his body joining it as he clutched his shoulder in agony with his remaining good arm. If you're good enough you never have to kill anyone; John’s personal feelings aside, he joined the FBI to save lives, not waste them.

Jim stepped over Kyle’s prone body as the stable filled with the sound of the horses neighing in fright, resisting the childish urge to kick him as hard as he could, gathering Trixie close as she threw her arms around him, sobbing quietly against his chest.

"Baby…baby," she said, sweet relief flooding every pore, drunk on joy in its most pure form, her bones replaced with Jello.

Dan ran up, snatching up the fallen gun, looking down in disgust at the writhing Kyle. He gripped Jim’s shoulder. "Man is it good to see you in one piece!" he said wryly, his eyes plainly showing his happiness. He looked at John who stood there quietly, a small smile playing around the corners of his mouth. "Nice shootin’ Tex!"

"Well, the doc did tell me to get some exercise!" John replied, taking in a nice deep breath and letting it out slowly, still feeling the adrenaline rush. "You all right there, kiddo?" he asked Trixie.

Trixie turned her head without loosening her grip. "Mmm hmm," she managed, feeling some strength return to her legs, the most precious sound in the world the strong beating of Jim’s heart under her ear.

The horse’s, evidentially sensing the easing of tension, quieted down, a few of them snorting out their breath. They heard a plaintive voice coming from the ground. "Are you just gonna let me lie here and bleed to death?" Kyle whined.

John and Dan stared down at him. "The idea does have a certain appeal," Dan said, his black eyes stormy as they stared into Kyle’s, who flinched. Then he sighed. "I’m sure the paramedics are up at the house by now," he said grudgingly.

"You certainly picked the wrong people to mess with," John said, his voice steely as he stared daggers at the prone man. "Not that I think you’ll be getting out any time soon, but hear this and hear it well—I didn’t have to shoot you in the shoulder. I could have shot you anywhere, get my meaning?"

He evidently did.

"How did you guys happen to show up in the nick of time?" Jim asked, rubbing Trixie’s back in a soothing circle.

Dan grinned. "How do ya think?"

"Dan drove like a maniac," Trixie murmured.

"I didn’t mean that," Dan said, looking at Jim, shaking his head. "Man, we’d be attending your funeral if Trixie hadn’t put everything together like she did."

Jim kissed the top of her head. "Thank you, Mrs. Frayne," he said quietly.

"Truly a team effort," John said, his eyes suddenly dancing. Moments like these make up for a lot of situations that end very differently.

"And thank you too," he added, looking at Trixie’s former boss. He knew better than to thank Dan, who would most likely only give him a look.

"That’s two you owe me, junior!" John couldn’t resist saying.

Coop and Stewart dashed in at that moment, their guns drawn.

"Everything’s under control," John assured them.

Coop glanced down at the sullen Kyle, who was staring into space, holding his shoulder, the blood oozing between his fingers. "Much as I’d like to pull a Reservoir Dogs on you, guess I’d better call an ambulance," he said, his voice clear that it was all the same to him if Kyle just up and croaked on the spot.

Dan let out an appreciative laugh. "Good one! But don’t bother—I called the paramedics on the way here. They should be waiting back at the house."

"We’ll go get ‘em," Coop said. As he and Stewart left, Dan commented, "I wonder where Uncle Bill’s gotten to. Isn’t he usually here this time of the day?"

Jim gasped. "He is here—I was just talking to him."

Almost at the same moment, they all heard the low moan coming from the back; Jim, Trixie and Dan rushing as if one body to Regan’s office, John having enough presence of mind to watch over Kyle.

Dan reached him first, gently turning him over. "Are you all right?," he cried urgently, his face wiped clean off all emotion except fear.

Trixie dropped down beside the injured man. "Regan, can you hear me?"

"Dan…Trixie?" he mumbled, his eyes fluttering. "My head…" he moaned.

"Thank god, we thought you were shot," she breathed, laying her hand on his cheek.

"Don’t be too upset sweetheart—it’s only a phase he’s going through."

Dan and Trixie exchanged glances. "Regan? Um…who are you talking about?"

"Jim’ll come to his senses, mark my words."

Trixie’s mouth fell open as she realized just what Regan was referring to.

Regan stirred and opened his eyes. "What’s going on?" he asked, looking up at the three of them in obvious bewilderment.

"What’s the date today?" she asked, holding her breath.

Regan told her. "What kind of question is that" he asked tartly, slowly sitting up, holding the back of his head and grimacing.

Trixie grinned with relief. "Whew, you really had me worried there for a minute!"

"Do you remember what happened?" Jim asked.

Regan rubbed his head, feeling the lump. "You had just left. I was walking into the office when I heard Jupe. I guess somebody hit me." His face suddenly tightened. "Was it that Kyle who’s been calling you?" he asked, looking at Trixie, who nodded. "Where…"

"He’s not going to bother anyone for a loooong time," Jim assured him. Regan’s jaw dropped as he filled him in on the events of the past half hour, Trixie suddenly unable to believe that the worst time in her whole life took place in under an hour.

"Maybe you’d better let the paramedics look at you," Dan suggested, looking resigned when his uncle refused.

"I’m not bleeding, I’m not seeing two of you, I don’t need a doctor," he said, forestalling any discussion.

Trixie laughed. "Well, you certainly sound like yourself," she said as she and Dan each took an arm, helping him slowly rise to his feet.

They walked back out to the front as the paramedics were lifting Kyle onto a stretcher. "Johnson’s going to accompany our friend to the hospital and Stewart’s going to give me lift back to your office. I think you’ve done enough for one day," John said, his glance taking in Trixie and Dan.

Kyle turned his head, shooting a look of hatred at Trixie who returned it tenfold. He opened his mouth to speak, shutting it suddenly as several pairs of eyes glared at him.

"Don’t drop the soap!" Trixie called as they wheeled him out, causing Regan to let out a loud guffaw. She leaned into Jim who put his arm around her. "If I never see his face again, it’s much too soon for me," she sighed, more tired than she’d been in a long time.

"There’s no need for you to—a written report will be enough for the Parole Board," John assured her.

"Good." Trixie looked at him, her eyes huge. "Johnny…"

Simms held up his hand. "We’re even, kiddo," he said, flashing her a sudden grin.

Trixie smiled back, her eyes shining. "You would have made a good Bob-White."

He gave a cocky salute as he left with Agent Stewart. "Take it easy, if that’s at all possible!" he called over his shoulder.

Dan turned to his uncle. "Let me take you home Uncle Bill. You need to put an icepack on that bump," he said firmly.

"I do have the headache to end all headaches," Regan admitted. "I can’t tell you how glad I am that all this is over," he said to Jim and Trixie, his voice quietly intense.

"You can say that again!" Dan added, leading his reluctant uncle towards the door.

"Amen," Jim replied thankfully.

Trixie grabbed Dan’s arm before he could leave. "I don’t care how much being thanked embarrasses you," she said, hugging him fiercely. He hugged her back, whispering "Garlic mashed potatoes!" into her ear before exiting the stables, dragging Regan with him.

Trixie turned back to Jim, throwing her arms around his neck. "You know, if this is your idea of a hot date, you can just forget about ever asking me on one again!"

 

 

Epilogue

 

"Beauty is truth, truth beauty—

that is all ye know on earth,

and all ye need to know."

--Keats

As promised, Trixie had the "former" members of the Bob Whites of the Glen over one Sunday evening for dinner, wanting nothing more than to have her closest friends and family around her. Luckily, Diana’s play had finished its run, and she firmly told her agent that she needed a few weeks to recharge before taking on anything new.

Try as Trixie might, she could not convince John Simms to join them ("What, and have a room full of people thanking me all night? Forget it, Kiddo!"). She cooked everything they had joked about in the office, happily minus the whole pig, and now everyone was sprawled comfortably in the living room, sipping wine, joking and laughing just as much as they ever had. Mart and Diana were cuddled up in the big chair Trixie just had to have for reading her beloved "Lucy Radcliffe" mystery books in, Brian, Honey and Jim shared the couch and Dan stretched out on his customary spot on the floor in front of the fireplace, eschewing the love seat as beneath his dignity.

Trixie sat next to Jim and addressed the group. "Now, you’re under no obligation, even though I did slave all day cooking you this fabulous meal—" Trixie’s eyes twinkled before she continued—"but it seems to me that since everybody now knows my one, deep dark secret, it’s only fair that I get to hear one of yours. It can be from the past or the present. What do you say?" She lifted her orange juice in a mock toast before draining the glass.

"Didn’t somebody once say ‘a little knowledge is a dangerous thing?" Dan asked mildly.

"Well I say, give it up!" Trixie grinned. "And you can quote me on that."

"You know, I think we owe it to her," Mart said, rubbing his stomach contentedly. I certainly do, at least, he thought, feeling Diana’s foot rub sensuously up and down the calf of his leg. When he thought about how he’d almost let her go without a fight, it made him feel weak all over. They’d broken up over something so stupid he couldn’t even remember and he’d defiantly attended Trixie and Jim’s New Year’s eve wedding stag, wanting to show everyone that he was hunky dory with being alone, he didn’t need anybody…

 

He’d tried to ignore how unbelievably gorgeous Diana Lynch looked in her simple black bridesmaid dress, but he had to admit it was impossible. A stubborn part of him whispered to himself that she hadn’t called him either. Why should he do all the work? He looked over at the bride and groom, watching them dance—their bodies glued together, staring into each other’s eyes, completely oblivious to everything and everyone. Never in his life had he ever seen such intense love. The usual ick factor—the bride being his own sister after all—was absent. He stared at Jim and Trixie in awe. In all the years they were together they had always been acutely private about their relationship, at least in public. But now…it was as if their love was too huge to contain any longer. A blind man could see their complete devotion. The effect they were having on their guests was readily apparent, judging from the soft smiles that appeared on the faces of everyone who looked their way. He shook his head, his heart dazed. He thought, I don’t care what I have to do, I am getting Diana Lynch to go out with me again! And he had. And it was wonderful…

The memory flashed through Mart’s brain in an instant and he caught Trixie’s eye, smiling at the sister he knew so well. He made up his mind right then and there to tell her the part she unknowingly played in his happiness, but later, when they could be alone.

"Okay, I’ll start," Di said agreeably, picking up her glass of wine and sipping it. "When I was ten years old, I stole a lipstick from Crimpers," she admitted sheepishly. Everyone gasped dramatically.

"You’re just a regular Patty Hearst!" Mart quipped, then groaned when Diana elbowed him.

"Hey, it may not sound like much now, but it was a big deal then. I felt so guilty; I couldn’t eat or sleep. Finally, I went to my mother and confessed." Di shuddered, taking a larger sip of her wine. "Ooooh, was she ticked. She dragged me down there and made me confess. I was so scared they’d put me in jail. It was a long time before I’d go in there again; I was so ashamed." She looked around and grinned. "Well, it permanently cured me of shoplifting, I’ll tell you that!"

"But not shopping," Honey laughed, smiling at her favorite shopping partner.

"Never!"

"Mine also takes place at a tender young age," Jim started. He lowered his voice. "But this must never leave this room. It would seriously damage my reputation." He paused as everyone looked at him, his green eyes merry. "When I was in the third grade, I got into a knock down, drag out fight with a girl…"

"You animal!" Honey interrupted. "Geez, my own brother…"

"You didn’t let me finish. That’s not the worst of it…I lost!"

"Man, that is pa-thet-ic!" Dan exclaimed, his dark eyes amused.

"Hey, that girl was tough. I think she even had a mustache!" Jim protested as everyone roared with laughter.

"Oh my stomach, my stomach," Trixie gasped, tears of merriment running down her face. "And you would think the worst part was that you lost!" She glanced around the room, making sure everyone had something to drink before going into the kitchen to pour herself more orange juice.

"Well, I’d tell you guys something, but then I’d have to kill you," Dan mock growled.

"Then tell us something else," Diana said promptly.

"Oh all right." Dan nodded seriously and Trixie, standing in front of the refrigerator, held her breath. "Well, when I first moved to Sleepyside, I haaaaaated it…"

"That’s no secret," Mart said bluntly.

"We are talking hate," Dan went on as if he weren’t interrupted. "I was seriously considering moving on, except for one thing." He stopped and let a slow, mysterious smile build on his face. "I had the huuuuuugest crush on….Honey."

"WHAT?!" Brian exclaimed, his jaw dropping. Honey merely smiled.

"Hey, down boy! That was ten years ago!" Dan said, putting up his hands in mock surrender. He decided not to mention that he had a few ‘Mrs. Robinson’ fantasies about Honey’s mother as well back then…

"Which is a perfect segue into my secret," Honey began, her hazel eyes sparkling with mischief. "It wasn’t entirely un…noticed," she said, grinning wolfishly. She kissed Brian’s cheek. "Sorry hubby."

"All right!" Dan waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "How YOU doin’?" he said, sounding so much like Joey Tribioni that even Brian had to laugh.

Trixie came back into the room, looking at her oldest brother. "Hey, don’t feel too bad. In a way, you should feel honored. Remember the words of Mark Twain." She paused, lowering herself into Jim’s lap, smiling lovingly at him. "Never tell the truth to those unworthy of it!" She started to scoot over back onto her former spot on the couch when Jim’s arm came around her waist, stopping her.

"This is fun!" Di sparkled. "We should do this more often."

"No we shouldn’t," Brian and Jim said at the same moment, making her giggle and almost choke on her wine.

"All lies are told with a straight face. It is truth that's said with a dismissive giggle," Mart said solemnly. "P. J. O'Rourke," he explained when everyone looked at him.

"It is error only, and not truth, that shrinks from inquiry; Thomas Paine." Brian shot back without missing a beat. "So, here goes. My first year of college I went to a party in the dorms that, well, let’s just say it probably broke every liquor law ever invented." He broke off, shaking his head in memory.

"Well, what happened?" Trixie cried when her brother didn’t continue.

Brian suddenly looked shamefaced. "At one point I passed out, and when I woke up the next morning, I realized I had missed my Chemistry midterm." He decided not to tell them where he woke up.

"Oh my God! What did you do?" Honey asked, clearly amazed that her serious husband was capable of such a thing.

Brian grinned. "I threw myself on my professor’s mercy. Luckily for me, he had a similar experience in his youth. Plus he liked me."

"A comparable lack of control proves to be beneficial," Mart exclaimed loftily, smiting his brow. "Oh that the elder sibling I was oft advised to emulate proves to be a mere mortal after all!"

"We haven’t heard from you yet, little brother," Brian replied calmly.

"Yeah Mart. Make it juicy," Diana said, batting her violet eyes at him.

To everyone’s surprise Mart stood up, his face suddenly serious. "Well…well…I know all of you have been wondering about something." The room was completely silent except for the tiny pops and crackling coming from the fireplace. He flushed when he realized what undivided attention he had. He took a deep breath. "Okay. Here’s my secret…" For one wild moment, Trixie wondered if her brother was going to reveal that once again, he was writing a Miss Lonelyhearts column. "The reason I haven’t asked Diana to marry me yet is because I’m scared she’ll say no."

Diana gasped, her mouth falling open. She looked at Mart, completely speechless.

Everyone watched in awe as Mart got down on one knee, taking her hand. "So, without further ado…Diana, will you marry me?"

Diana smiled, her eyes shining. "Oh, my funny valentine…I thought you’d never ask. Of course I will!" She leaned forward, throwing her arms around him, kissing him. "How could you have thought for one moment that I’d say no, you dope?" she whispered in his ear, as everyone cheered and clapped.

"Excellent work, my friend. Excellent!" Dan said, slapping him on the shoulder, hauling him back on his feet.

"And about time too. I’m glad I can finally say, welcome to the family," Brian said warmly. He glanced over at his sister who had buried her face in her hands, obviously bawling as Jim looked at her in amazement. "Trix! What’s…why…" he broke off, not used to seeing his sister in such a state.

"I’ve sent her into complete shock…I’ve blown your mind, haven’t I?" Mart said airily, pulling Diana to her feet and dipping her dramatically. "Uh, Trix?" he continued in a normal voice when she didn’t respond.

Everyone rose and gathered around her, deeply concerned. Had the recent events been too much for her? After all, everybody had their breaking point.

"Are you okay?" Jim asked, rubbing her shoulder.

Trixie finally looked up, intensely embarrassed to find her family and friends so obviously worried. "I’m sorry," she finally managed to choke. "Don’t mind me. It’s just…it’s these…oh gleeps, it’s just raging hormones. I’m…really….very…happy!"

"Trixie with raging hormones. Can the world possibly survive?" Honey joked, patting her friend’s shoulder, relieved and amused at the same time.

"I’d take out some extra life insurance if I was you," Dan said to Jim, who looked a little nonplussed.

"Wow, it’s like PMS on acid!" Di marveled.

Trixie smiled—there was something to be said about a group of people that you could completely lose your mind in front of without worrying that they wouldn’t love you anymore. A group she didn’t have to keep secrets from—not then, not ever.

The End