"Yeah, Scribe?"

"Are all the Bellewoods... in your profession?"

Ron was carving a small wooden whistle for Jacob. Long curls of shaved wood littered the hearth before him. ("I do it here so I can just sweep the shavings into the fire when I'm done.") He paused and gave the woman a considering look. Then he said slowly, "No. I don't guess any family ever has all its members go into the business."

"So, do the other Bellewoods look down on the, uh, the citizen Bellewoods?"

"Why, no, of course not. They're still family."

"Do any of the Bellewoods who are in the family business ever get out? I mean, other than the hard way?"

"Sure. Most sort of retire, eventually." He began to carefully scrape out a hole. "I may even do it myself now, after our last little expedition. Why are you asking me all this, girl?"

"Why do you think?"

Ron sighed. "You still thinking about leaving Jerry?"

"No. I'm thinking about taking him with me."

Ron looked at her sharply, then laid aside his carving. "Scribe," he said gently. "it wouldn't work."

"Why not? He doesn't have a record, does he?"

"Not like that, of course. None of us really do. Oh, he tore things up a little a time or two. Did a few days for drunk and disorderly. That's one reason why I was so glad he got you. He don't have the urge to go ripsnorting any more."

"He doesn't have to do this, Ron. He's smart. He told me there was assistance offered to him. He could go to college. I could help him, work..."

"How? You're most likely a month or more gone with his baby already, and you told us about that job of yours in that corner store. Sounded like a half step up from slavery to me. You couldn't be doing that kind of thing in your condition. After that there's a tiny baby to look after. I ain't saying women should never work, but I know you a little, Scribe. You gonna tell me that it wouldn't just tear your heart out if that baby said it's first words to some woman gettin' paid to take care of him?"

Scribe turned a little pale, but said, "People get through it, all the time. You do what you have to do."

"That's the point: you don't have to. In any case, you wouldn't have to work to support yourselves, except Jerry couldn't stand to sit idle. He has a good bit of his own put away already for retirement. Enough for a little family to live pretty comfortable, in some places."

"Then why won't it work, Ron?"

"He's a Bellewood, Scribe."

"Oh, bullshit."

Ron frowned mildly. "Language, Scribe."

"I don't believe that 'nature versus nurture' crap, Ron. You shouldn't, either. The reason why certain families show antisocial tendencies is because the members grow up knowing nothing but that attitude. You're a thus and so, so this is what's going to happen to you. No point in trying to do any different, or even dreaming about it, because this is the way God made you, and this is the way you're gonna stay. The weak ones buy into that, and it becomes true for them. But Jerry isn't weak, Ron. He isn't."

"He couldn't live outside the family, Scribe. As much as he loves you, it would hurt him too deep. He'd dry up. You wouldn't wish that on him, would you?"

"I'm not saying he has to give up the family. God, it'd half kill me if I couldn't see Jakey and Josh, you know that. All I want is for him to move out of the isolation and into the rest of the world a little."

"You couldn't go home, girl," Ron said gently. "You know that. There's no way you could be with him and convince them that he had no part in taking you."

Scribe picked up one of the wood shavings. It was long and slender, and curved in a delicate spiral. She twirled it in her fingers, studying the subtle shift of its lines thoughtfully. "I've thought about it. I wouldn't have to go home, but I need to contact them somehow, Ron. Let them know I'm all right, that I'm alive, and I'm not suffering. My mother lost one daughter to a serial killer. Can you imagine what she went through when I was snatched? I know you all tried to keep me from seeing it, but I watched that video of the robbery."

"How did that happen?"

She slanted a look at him. "Day time talk show. They were doing a show on closure. Not knowing what happened to someone. They ran a clip of it. Mom and Eva declined to go on the show. They dug up a cousin from somewhere. I think I'd seen her maybe six or eight times in the last ten years at family gatherings. The way she wailed, you would have thought that I was her dearest friend and soul mate. As I recall, she's a snotty bitch who used to make snide remarks about my clothes."

"Damn talk shows ought to be banned."

"The point is, Ron, they don't know. I could be rotting in pieces right now. I don't want them to have to end up setting a stone over an empty grave ten years from now. I just want to get word to them. There are ways of doing it."

"Calls can be traced."

"Do you really think they'd have a tap on my mom's line after all this time?"

"It's possible. Something this important, you can't risk it. It affects us all, Scribe."

"Then there are mail forwarding businesses. I could have a letter, or better yet, a video tape, shipped from... from Alaska."

"I'm not the one you should be talking to about this, Scribe."

"Yes you are, Ron. You know that Jerry wouldn't make a decision like this without your go ahead. You're the head of the family."

Ron turned the whistle in his hands. He smoothed a last rough edge, then put it to his lips and blew experimentally. There was a high, sweet bleat. Scribe winced. "Justine is going to want to skin you for making that. My mom always quietly blessed anyone who gave me any kind of a noise maker."

Ron folded his knife and tucked it away. "You're still restless, Scribe. Give it a little more time before you start trying to push Jerry out into the world, won't you? Settle in a little more."

Justine and Joshua came in from the walk they'd taken when they saw that Scribe wanted to talk to Ron. Joshua ran over immediately when he spotted the whistle, greeting the present with a glad cry. He tried it out immediately. Sure enough, Justine grimaced sourly, and Ron had to smile.

Scribe watched the scene, slowly breaking the little spiral of wood into tiny bits. Wait. Settle in. That's just what I can't let happen, Ron. If I have this baby up here, I'll never leave. I know that. Jerry has to see that he can make it out in the world. I know he hated having to live in the 'flat lands' during high school, but he won't be alone this time. He'll have me.