Joshua has a games system, and he invites me to a friendly game of some sort. I pick Super Mario Brothers, because I can at least understand it, and make it through the first couple of levels. He's thrilled, because the adults are always too busy, or not interested, and "Jakey is such a baby. He gets killed right away, then tries to take my turn, too." I turn off the rest of the world, and concentrate on the bleeping and ringing, the little mustatcheod man in the plumber's overalls dashing through a flat land of pipes, gold coins, and menacing mushrooms. When it's Joshua's turn, I point out places where he can earn secret points, find hidden routes, and he's delighted. Jacob comes over to where we're sitting in front of the tv screen, and crawls in my lap. He starts sucking his thumb and playing with my hair again. I gently pull his thumb out of his mouth and let him hold my gamepad. That distracts him.

There is a muted cry, and Justine goes and removes the baby from the bassinette. She sits on the couch with the tiny infant and unbuttons the front of her dress. She puts her baby to nurse, and drapes a clean cloth over her shoulder, obscuring the baby's head and her bared breast.

But before she does this I see a red-purple bruise on the skim milk pale skin of her breast. It is shaped like a spread fingered hand. I grit my teeth.

She jostles the baby encouragingly, and catches my eye. She smiles almost shyly. "You're good with kids, Scribe. Josh and Jake like you already, and they're not used to being around strangers much."

"I like kids. Can I hold the baby when she's through?"

"Sure you can. She's your niece, after all."

I pull the gamepad out of Jacob's mouth, wiping off a little drool with the hem of my shirt. The thumb goes back in his mouth. Joshua is intent on avoiding bouncing mushrooms, ignoring us. Ron, Jerry, and Lally are talking at the table. I say quietly, "Justine, I'm not your sister-in-law."

She looks pained. "I know it ain't easy for you, but it'll be all right. Jerry's a good man, he'll be good to you. He'll be faithful, and he won't beat on you. That's better than... than some. You just got to get to know him. You think things would be that much different if you married some man that courted you for a while in the flatlands?"

"Yes. I'd have a chance to get to know them, and decide."

She makes a sound of almost pitying dismissal. "Girl, there ain't a man in the world that's gonna show you his true self while he's courting you. They show what they think you want to see, till they get you good and proper. Then you see the real face. At least like this, with Jerry, you see the truth from the git go. He's my brother, and I love him, but I'm not blind to his faults. He could have picked a woman from people we knew, but... Well, he's had his heart set since his voice dropped and he had to start shavin'."

She switches the baby to the other breast, pausing a moment to tenderly stroke the gold fuzz that coats it's tiny skull. "I'm just glad he found you. He was startin' to get kinda...pinched. Young buck like him needs a woman to keep all that energy from piling up and souring him. I can tell the difference, after only that one night. He's so much more relaxed, and happy."

I cock my eyebrows in disbelief. "Why didn't he just take fifty or a hundred dollars into town and find a nice professional girl? Things would have been so much simpler."

She's trying to be patient. "You know that's not the same. It isn't just s-e-x, Scribe."

There is a long blatting sound as Joshua's last Mario dies. He looks at his mother archly. "I know what that spells."

"Jakey doesn't, and don't you tell him. Take him in your bedroom and show him your comic books, or your GI Joes."

"Okay. C'mon, Jakey." Joshua grabs his brother's hand to lead him away. Jacob plants a cinnamon fragrant kiss on my cheek before leaving.

Janelle fusses, and refuses the breast. Justine buttons up, then lifts the baby to her shoulder, and begins rubbing her back. "It's belonging, for both of you. He needs someone to take care of."

"And what makes you think I need to be taken care of? I was doing all right." I'm not going to think about the long hours and days, between contact with my family, or the evenings spent in front of the tv, or sitting alone at a movie, or wandering through a library or bookstore. Maybe it was a little empty, but that didn't mean I needed anything.

The door opens, and James slips in, shutting the door after him. "Just what was on the floor by the bed, huh Jer?"

Jerry nods. "That's all." He gets up. "You can just take them on into the laundry room."

"Just a second. You know, some of this stuff looks like it's going to be a little difficult to get out."

He dumps the material on the couch beside Justine. "I mean, most of this is common stuff, and we can use bleach on it, but this..." He pulls out the nightgown, holding it up. Everyone looks at it. There is a large maroon blotch at crotch level, and some white stains. "Justine, honey, do you think you're gonna be able to get that out, or are they gonna have a permanent reminder?"

"James!" Justine's voice is soft, hurt.

I can feel blood draining away from my head. I wonder if maybe I'm going to faint. I hear Ron swear softly. "James, you son of a bitch."

`What?" He widens his bluegreen eyes innocently. "It's just laundry, right?" He holds it toward me, spread out so that the stain of my deflowering is displayed. "What happened, doll? Did you forget it was your time of the month? Ought to count the days on somethin' like that."

Jerry is beside him in two steps, and rips the cloth out of his hands. "Don't touch her things." he growls. I see his fists clench on the soft material. His eyes are almost black. He's trying very hard not to hit James in front of Justine.

"What? I swear, I have no idea what gets into you people sometime. A little Cheer with bleach, and who'll know the difference, right?"

I crawl to my feet, and start toward the door. Justine reaches toward me, but I'm far beyond her reach. "I want to go home." I say numbly.

"Okay, darlin'. Let me get your coat, and I'll take you back to the cabin." Jerry drops the gown back into the pile.

I shake my head, still walking. " I--want--to--go--home!"

"Scribe..." He reaches for me, and I shove at him abruptly. He is just enough off balance to stumble, and I get to the door and get it open.

"I want to go home! My home!" I plunge out into the snow, which has begun falling thickly again, and start to plunge across the clearing. Behind me I hear.

"Fuck! Now look what you did, you sonuvabitch! Scribe!"

Snow goes in my shoes. My toes are almost instantly numb. A few yards from the cabin I fall for the first time, sprawling face first into the soft, frigid whiteness. Now I have snow inside my shirt, my skirt. It's chilly caress slides over me like a lover, leaving a cold lack of sensation rather than a warm tingle in it's path.

I hear the thunk of boots on the wooden porch outside the cabin, then the heavy crunch of quick footsteps on snow. I manage to swarm to my feet, and lunge ahead, breaking a path in the pristing, uncut snow that rises above my knees.

"Woman, where the hell do you think you're goin'? Scribe, hold up."

I hit something under the snow, maybe a rock, and go down again. The crunching footsteps are closer. No time to get up, and I'd just fall again, so I start to crawl, almost tunnelling. "Lord, girl, are you tryin' to kill yourself?"

Hands fall on me, and I roll and thrash blindly, screaming. "Let me go! You got what you wanted, didn't you? Let me go home!"

"Stop it!" Arms go around me. I'm dragged against a solid warmth that is becoming familiar: Jerry's body. He holds me against him, stilling my fight physically. His voice is firm, practical, but not unkind. "You're hystericle. Calm down, now."

How far did I make it? Halfway across the clearing, maybe forty, fifty yards? I give up, going limp. It's so damn cold. "I just want to go home."

"I said I'd take you home." He gets up, pulling me to my feet. My shoes are lost somewhere in the whiteness between the cabin and where I landed. He scoops me up, carrying me like a child now, and walks to the first cabin, the one we spent the night in.

Somehow he gets the door open without putting me down. He sets me down in front of the fireplace, and I immediately start to drip. I'm coated in snow, like I've been drenched and caked in powdered sugar. "Lord, Scribe, you're a mess. We gotta get you out of those wet clothes now"

He strips me efficiently, disappears into the bathroom, and returns with a large towel. He dries me roughly, massaging with the terrycloth to get the circulation going again in feet and hands. Then he gets the quilt off the bed, wraps me in it, and sits in the chair by the fire, pulling me onto his lap. He holds me closely, tucking my head under his chin.

"I'm sorry about that jackass, sweetheart. James has never been that good about acting right around women. I don't know how he managed to bamboozle Justine like he did, but he's part of the family now, and we have to put up with him. Doesn't mean I won't put my foot up his ass if I really think he needs it, brother in law or not."

"Jerry?"

"What, baby?"

"I don't love you. You know that, don't you?"

He's quiet, stroking my hair and face, not looking at me. "All right, you don't love me. Yet."