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sisters. She wanted to love the baby. But he was a boy. Thinking about this twisted her stomach in knots.

Stephanie had her own life to worry about, mainly an imminent move to North Carolina. There were only two weeks left to pack. She hoped her public relations training would land her a job with a stock car racing team, maybe even one of the best. At the least, she planned to meet plenty of single crew members.

She figured a country boy might make a better father. With a southern sense of honor, decency, he might be less likely to stray. She would have children and keep house and finally be happy. Such was her dream.

Happy. That was little Richard James. Loved by all and too young to imagine the trouble lying ahead. He was going to grow up without a father. Which was worse? No father, or a father who never showed he cared? Stephanie began to wonder if she should be jealous, after all.

Late Thursday afternoon, her phone rang. Stephanie got up from the floor amidst the boxes to answer. What a shock to hear her step-mother's masculine voice.

"I thought you might like to spend some time with your brother before you leave. Everyone's invited to dinner tomorrow night."

"How do you expect me to get there?" Stephanie asked. Her step-mother knew she had not had a car in years.

"Leah said she'd pick you up," was the simple answer. Stephanie sighed.

"WellI guess I can make it," she said, and hung up.

Stephanie was waiting on her front porch the next night at seven. Leah stopped her mini-van outside the run down apartment building and opened the door. They rode across town, mostly in silence. Sunshine and shadow blocked out areas of cornfield and cow pasture. Stephanie's mind blocked out areas of her childhood. She tried not to think about what might happen at the dinner table. It had always been a scene of family arguments.

"Why do you think she invited us?" she finally asked. Leah shrugged.

"You're moving next week. It'll be awhile before you see Ricky again."

"Why? I'll be back for Pocono and the off season. She could bring him down to visit."

"I don't know, Stephanie. Just try not to start anything, okay?"

As usual, Leah was worrying about appearances. Doing the right thing mattered to her. Stephanie said what was on her mind and damn the consequences. She did not believe in playing games.

They pulled up in front of their childhood home. The house looked smaller, more worn. The rose bushes were brown. Bare patches showed through the grass. Stephanie already felt trapped. She dreaded going inside.

"Hello," their step-mother called when they knocked. "Come in." They could hear Ricky crying upstairs.

Stephanie climbed the stairs, found him in his playpen. He was pudgy and pink. Three years old, but big for his age. Before anyone could say a word, she picked him up.

"Hey bro," she whispered. He stared at her and started to smile. She bounced him gently and walked to the window. "What's going on out there?"

Two dogs ran circles around the yard. Chasing a rabbit, most likely. Ricky stuck his fat hand against the glass. His eyes were dark and round, full of mystery. Infancy was not simple. He seemed like a happy baby, and that made Stephanie want to cry.

"I'm going away," she said in his ear. Her sister and step-mother stared from the kitchen doorway. "When you get bigger, I'll tell you why. Okay?"

Ricky made a gurgling sound and reached for her face. She carried him to the playpen and put him down in a pile of toys. She took her usual childhood position at the table and did not return Leah or Chrissy's curious stares. Dinner was almost ready.

Learn more about this author, Tammy Winand.
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