A songbird's sweet melody awakens Susan from her dream-filled sleep. She opens her window, welcoming in the bright morning sunlight.

How glorious this Earth is, how wondrous to be living on it! Her own melody plays in her heart as she gazes across the open pastures stretching behind the house. That's why we chose this place to raise Tara in, because here everything is so green and fresh, and alive, basking in sunlight. I don't want her to ever feel alone. Susan's own lonely soul vowed to never let that happen. She looks down at the still slumbering child, feeling the responsibility weigh heavily upon her.

I can teach her many things, but to raise her in the loving atmosphere she deserves, I don't know if I can do that. I've frozen my heart long ago. And yet…Susan smiles, caressing Tara's pale cheek.

Am I really incapable of love? Engrossed in these thoughts, humming to herself, she readies herself for a new day. She then heads for the kitchen to start breakfast when she sees Alex tumble out of her room, looking tired, disheveled and more than a little bit upset, still in her sleepwear.

"Good morning, Alex." Susan says pleasantly. "Didn't you sleep well?"

"Not a wink." Her dark eyed housemate mumbles.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Susan says sympathetically.

"Didn't you hear it?!" Alex asks in disbelief.

"Hear what?" Susan asks, confused.

"That man sounds like a train! I don't know how you managed to sleep through it!"

Susan smiles. "Oh, Alex, it couldn't be that bad."

"It was pretty bad," Michelle comes out of her room just then, also in her frilly lace nightgown.

"See?" Alex aims at Susan, who shrugs. Suddenly the snoring starts again, echoing through the halls loud and clear.

Alex spins on her barefoot heel towards the living room.

"Alex?" Susan whispers, chasing her down the hall, "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to wake it up." She states decidedly.

"Amara, you can't!" Michelle's high pitched whisper shrieks.

"And why not?" Alex asks almost haughtily.

"Because — because — he's a guest!" Michelle's proper upbringing demands.

"An unwanted one!" She whispers back, her eyes flaring.

"Alex," Susan's calm voice intercedes, "really you shouldn't…oh my," she stops short.

"Oh, my, indeed! It appears a tornado hit this place!" Michelle observes. Pillows and sheets and clothes were strewn everywhere, a shirt hanging over the lamp, a pair of pants tossed on the floor. And there, lazily sprawled across the couch, was the person responsible for the disaster area, a lean muscular young man uncovered by neither sheet nor blanket, wearing neither shirt nor pants.

Susan gasps at both uncovered man and discovered mess. Turning away, she quickly retreats to the kitchen. Michelle blushes a deep red, though the little French girl inside of her could not turn away from peeking.

And as for Alex, Alex smiles wickedly and purposefully strides up to the sleeping figure, who, as she moves closer and gets a look at his face, actually looked very sweet and peaceful, and amazingly quiet. But that would not deter her. Leaning down, close to his ears, she takes a deep breath and shouts: "WAKE UP!" as loudly as her lungs could muster. And that was loud indeed.

Unbelievably fast, Sayer Starr jerks awake, instantly trying to jump up. His gangly legs become tangled, sending him plunging face first to the floor, but not without taking Alex down with him. So there they lie once again, his "only-wearing-boxer-shorts" body pressed against hers being the only differentiation from an instant replay of last night's little escapade.

Sayer shakes off the shock of his rude wake up call and looks down smirking at the disgruntled woman trapped beneath him.

"You just can't get enough of me, can you?"

Alex sighs, pushing him away hard, jumping to her feet uneasily, the scent of his rich cologne making her feel dizzy.

It must be that stupid cologne, why else would I feel so dizzy inside? Her heart pounds in her head.

The commotion awakens the rest of the household. Terry and Robin quickly come racing into the living room, Terry in his undershirt, Robin in a borrowed oversized nightshirt, expecting danger. When they catch a glimpse of Sayer and Alex together on the floor and the state of disaster the room is in, with sheets and pillows and clothes strewn everywhere, Robin snickers.

"So what were you two up to last night?" He chuckles, leadingly insinuating.

"Argh!" Alex grunts. "He is not spending another night in this living room!" she shouts, pointing a finger at Sayer.

"Now, Amara dear, be reasonable," Michelle says, attempting to calm down the earthshaking storm.

"Reasonable? Look at this mess!" She explodes, pointing her long arms about the unkempt room.

Terry begins collecting Sayer's discarded clothes and apologetically says, "I'm terribly sorry. We can move him to the room I'm staying in. He won't be any more trouble, I promise."

"Yeah, right." Alex grumbles looking down at the miscreant, who was still on the floor, lounging lazily again the couch, his arms folded across his bare chest as he casually yawns.

"Yes, that's a good idea, we have a spare bed in the attic you can use," Michelle remembers. "If you'll help us get it down."

"Of course," Terry smiles. "Just show me where."

"Follow me." Michelle says with a wave of her hand. Terry obediently follows, giving Sayer that raised eyebrows look that he always reprimands him with whenever he gets in trouble.

Which was quite often.

Sayer shrugs with a smile in response and Terry can't help but smile back, shaking his head at his brother's irresponsibility.

"You go get some clothes on." Alex points at Sayer. He stands up, picking up the pile of folded clothes on the coffee table that Michelle brought last night. Moving close to her, he smiles coyly. "You got it…Ally."

"What did you call me?!" Amaralexis Sokova's deep voice echoes through the house, all the way into the attic, making Michelle chuckle.

"Oh, Amara, he does give you trouble, doesn't he?" Michelle says, giggling in the attic.

"Oh, Sayer is good at that. Causing and making." Terry answers as he hefts boxes from on top of the mattress.

"Well, Amara isn't a slouch in that particular department either." Michelle responds.

"Funny how much they're really alike." Terry observes, dusting off the bed.

"Yes, that's why they get along so famously." She injects some her trademark sarcasm with a smile. They laugh as Terry lifts the heavy mattress with ease.

"But really, I do have to watch out for my brother. He is a bit headstrong," Terry says, turning serious.

"Really? I have to do the same for Amara."

"Then they truly must have something in common." Terry concludes as they walk down the hall.

"They must." she says simply, suddenly feeling a pang of loss with the thought, a feeling she couldn't explain at the moment.

Susan peeks out of the kitchen just in time to see Terry Starr lift a mattress high into the air, the muscles flexing in his bare arms. The sight takes her breath away for a moment and she leans against the doorway, watching him disappear into Tara's room, with a gentle sigh. All of a sudden she smells something burning.

"Oh, the pancakes!" She rushes back to the stove. First time that's happened, she thinks to herself.

"First time for a lot of things." She says softly in reflection.

Tara gets up and hurriedly dresses for school. What a bright and happy day! She looks out the window, her lungs filling with the sweet fragrance of flowers. She runs out of her room and sees Terry and Michelle coming down the hall, Terry carrying a mattress.

How strong he must be to be able to carry such a heavy thing all by himself. She scurries back into her door to stay out of the way. Terry spots her and smiles a greeting.

"Good morning, Tara."

Oh, how melodious his voice is!

"Good morning, Terry," she barely manages to say as they pass by. How handsome he looks! How gorgeous and tall in his undershirt and shorts! Tara's heart goes racing. And he stopped to say 'Good Morning' just for me! Her eyes glistening, her heart soaring, she runs to the kitchen, welcoming in the new day.

"Good morning!" Passing Susan with a big smile, Tara sings out to Robin, who was already sitting at the table sipping tea, wearing a shirt a size too large. Tara hops on the chair across from him.

"'Morning," he answers simply, sounding groggy.

"How are you this morning?" Susan asks pleasantly, stacking pancakes on Tara's plate.

"Wonderful!" She answers happily. Susan smiles, glad to see her so happy. Soon Michelle flutters in, looking very becoming in a summery dress.

"Oh, do you think so?" Michelle says to Robin, obviously picking up his thoughts again, smiling coyly. He blushes slightly, brushing the hair from his eyes, as she takes the seat next to him.

"You look very nice today, Tara," she smiles at the child. "Isn't that Susan's perfume I smell?" She sniffs the air. Now, it was Tara's turn to blush, and Michelle laughs softly. "I won't tell." The older woman whispers.

Terry comes in next in a shirt a size or two too small, looking rather dashing in the way it tightly clings to his body.

"Good morning." He says to Susan as he passes by.

"Good morning." He turns away quickly, pretending to be engrossed in her cooking.

"Good morning, Miss Moreau, Robin." He says pleasantly taking a seat next to Tara.

"'Morning." Robin nods to his brother, Michelle trying to catch his recalcitrant glance as Terry turns to Tara, who only had eyes for him.

"Getting ready for school?" Just then, Sayer comes bounding in, looking refreshed and full of energy.

"Look," he says, stretching his arms out, "Shirt fits good, just my size."

"Oh good—" Michelle starts to say, when Alex comes in still in her bathrobe, her hair damp.

"Hey, Michelle, where have all my…" She stops short, her eyes resting on Sayer. "My clothes!" She grabs his shirt front.

"Where did you!?" She says angrily in confusion. Then suddenly realizing, she bellows, "MICHELLE! You gave them MY CLOTHES!" Her eyes flash angrily at her friend.

"Now, Amara, you couldn't expect me to give them mine or Susan's," she starts to explain. "Besides, it's only three little shirts, nothing to get so excited over. You wouldn't want them to go out in town wearing those dashing gold-trimmed Princely tunics and get swarmed by fangirls and curious reporters, could you?"

"Ooh!" Alex blows air through her mouth. "Nothing in this house is sacred!" She stomps out. Embarrassed by the scene, Terry says politely, "Do you want us to—?" he starts.

"Of course not. She just gets like that." Michelle smoothes it over nonchalantly, pushing her wavy hair back. "There's nothing to worry about."

Tara watches her Alex-Papa storm out of the kitchen.

Why doesn't she like them? she thinks to herself. They're so nice, especially…Tara looks up meekly at Terry, her heart pounding in her little chest. So nice, she sighs the sigh of a thirteen year old in love for the first time.

"Breakfast! I'm starving!" Sayer plops down next to his brothers. Susan finally comes to the table with yet one more batch of pancakes and sits next to Michelle.

"These are delicious, Miss de Venici." Terry compliments.

"Why, thank you." She blushes. "And please, 'Miss de Venici' is so formal. Please call me 'Susan'."

"Susan," he repeats. "A lovely name," he smiles.

"Sure!" Sayer says his mouth still full of pancakes. He swallows. "We can call you 'Susie'!"

"Sayer." Terry gives his brother a warning glance.

"What?" Sayer asks in confusion, not knowing he did anything wrong.

"That's fine," Susan laughs with a gentle smile, "I think it's sweet."

Sayer gives Terry a sideways smirk. "See?" Then he notices Terry's tight shirt. "You don't really fit in that, do you?" He asks.

"Well, it is a little tight." Terry says looking down. "Why don't you go into town and buy us some clothes?"

"Yeah, something more my style." Robin complains, feeling rather too uptight in anything belonging to that rambo woman.

Michelle giggles at him.

"Yes, I wouldn't want you to come to my art exhibition looking like that." She stretches the arm of his shirt.

"You're having an art exhibition?" Robin's sullen attitude disappears.

"Later tonight, if you're interested in coming." She teases, already knowing his answer without even delving into his mind.

"I'll be there." He says smiling back. If you really want me, his mind adds, testing their silent communication.

I do. Her thoughts come back to him, sweet and strong and clear.

Susan glances at the watch pinned to her chest pocket. "Tara, it's time to go."

"Oh," Tara says disappointed.

"We'll see you later, then." Terry says to Tara. She nods happily and skips out the door.

"Would you like to join us, Sayer? We're going into town," Susan says, politely.

"Sure, thanks, Susie! See you guys later," he says to his brothers.

"Bye 'Shelle." He waves to Michelle on his way out.

"My name is Mi-chelle." She says haughtily, stressing the first syllable.

"Don't forget to stop at the bank." Terry reminds his absent-minded sibling.

"Right!" He calls back. Sayer follows Susan and Tara out to a sleek yellow convertible. "Nice car." He says, impressed.

"It's Alex's," Susan answers.

"Very nice." Sayer says, running his hand over the sparkling hood.

Tara climbs into the back seat, and Susan takes the keys out of her pocket.

"Do you mind driving us to the school? In my line of work I don't get around that much so I'm still just a novice, Alex is teaching me." She says pleasantly, handing him the keys to the beloved vehicle that Alex usually was glad to get behind the wheel of, not quite explaining what all her own sheltered life within Time's Doorway entailed.

"Drive?" Sayer answers, his voice cracking. He was about to explain that he couldn't, but male ego takes over, and bravado kicks in.

"Sure, no prob." He takes the keys and slides behind the wheel into the driver's seat. A deep breath of sucked in fresh air and then he starts the car, calmed by its smooth purring. Looking down at the complicated dashboard, he wishes he took the time to learn to drive.

Why didn't I bother when we were here last? I guess because Terry always drives us anywhere we want to go. Mental note: Ask Ter to teach me to drive. Oh, well, that's not gonna help me now.

He puts his hand on the stick shift and Susan says, talking down to him, "—Aren't we forgetting something, Sayer?"

"Huh?" he searches his mind, trying to remember when driving with Terry what to do next.

"Your seat belt?" she says, tugging at hers, her eyebrows raised.

"Oh, right." He sighs with relief, fumbling for the stupid device. I never did like this thing, he thinks as it finally clicks into place.

"All right. Here we go!" He shifts gears, lightly stepping on the gas. And they go flying backwards. He hits the breaks hard, stopping within inches of hitting a tree. Susan gasps and Tara squeaks.

"Heh heh," he giggles nervously, "wrong gear." He shifts again, luck smiling upon him, and chooses the right one this time. They lurch forward and then smoothly turn onto the main road.

"Haven't driven for awhile, um…in outer space." He lies as an excuse. Never, actually, he thinks to himself. Getting familiar with the road, he smiles, as the wind blows through his hair. As his confidence gains, he picks up speed, but soon the desolate country road ends, turning into busy city streets. Susan, clutching the arm rest on her seat, shakingly directs him down the streets to Tara's school.

"Turn left at the next light," she says. The car goes speeding down the busy road. A yellow streak cutting off several other cars, their horns blasting. They reach the signal and go speeding through the red light, tires spinning with a screech.

"There's the school!" Susan announces joyfully, truly glad to see its gates. Sayer pulls the car up to it with a screeching halt. Susan thankfully steps, feeling weak-kneed, happy to feel the firm ground beneath her feet. Tara climbs out of the back, her pale face even paler than usual. Sayer leans back in his seat, resting his left arm on the window.

"See ya later, pipsqueak!" He calls out the window. "I'll take you around later if you feel like a drive someplace!"

"'Bye," Tara timidly says, her little voice shaking.

"I'll pick you up later," Susan leans down, fixing Tara's collar.

"'Bye," Tara says.

Returning to the car, Susan goes to the driver's side. "Maybe I should drive you to the bank. It's hard to find," she tries to cover up.

Alex will kill me if something happens to this car.

"Oh, all right," he says, playing along, secretly relieved. He slides over to the passenger seat and Susan gets into the driver's side, making sure to put on her seat belt. At least she was practicing with Alex to obtain her driver's permit, more than she could say of the cocky young man who now, thankfully, was safely in the passenger's seat.

Slowly, Susan pulls back into traffic towards the bank. On the way there, they pass the 10th Street High School.

"There's the High School!" Sayer says excitedly, leaning out the window.

"Did you miss it?" Susan asks sympathetically, sensing the emotion in his voice, supposing he must have attended once.

"The school? Nah. Never liked school much. Just the good times, the good friends we made here. I miss that." He looks at Susan.

She smiles sadly, sharing in the sentiment, knowing exactly what he meant. She considers him for a moment.

Under that wild exterior is really a sweet boy — a sweet boy who has no idea how to drive, she smiles to herself as she turns into the bank parking lot.

"I'll be right back." He throws over his shoulder as she parks, jumping out right over the side door. She shakes her head with a knowing smile, his exuberance contagious. Five minutes pass. ten minutes. Fifteen minutes. She waits. And though there is not a more patient woman on the planet, Susan starts to wonder what happened. Finally he comes jogging back to the car, a large wad of money in his hand.

"What took so long?" She asks, curious as she drives out.

"Oh, the girl needed my ID and I didn't bring any." He says nonchalantly, sticking the money in his pocket.

"Oh, yes, they always ask for that. How did you get the money, then?"

"I winked at the teller." He says, mischief glowing in his eyes, making Susan laugh out loud. Now it was his turn to consider her. There's something sad and lonely about this girl — no, this woman — at least she seems more mature than the rest. There was something else he had noticed about her earlier. He could've sworn he saw her eyes light up that way whenever she talked to Terry. And the funny thing is, I could swear Terry looks at her the same way! Sayer looks at Susan. She is a pretty woman — my brother has good taste. He smiles at her.

I have to learn more about you.

"So what else do you do besides practice driving to take the pipsqueak back and forth to school?"

"Well, nothing right now." She says guardingly.

"What do you like to do, then?" He says, not giving up so easily.

"I don't know. Sewing, I suppose. I'd like to be a fashion designer…someday." She says hopefully. Just then they pull up to a ritzy men's clothing store.

"That's great. You can help me pick out some clothes then!" Sayer says merrily in his ignorant imposing way, jumping out of the golden yellow Ferrari.

"Oh, I –" She starts to argue. She had intended to just stay in the car while he went in. She gets out, looking in the window. The store was full of high-class men — not a woman in sight — even the cashier was a man. And if she went in with Sayer…

She stops, midstride. Sayer stops, too, turning around.

"What is it?" he asks, truly oblivious to the situation.

"I don't think I should go in," she says hesitantly.

"Why not?"

"Well," she pauses not quite knowing what to say, "there are only men in there and I wouldn't want to intrude…"

"C'mon, I need you to help me. I'll get lost in that big place by myself." He tries to convince her with sad puppy-dog eyes.

"Sayer, I don't think it would look right…" She looks at him apologetically. It finally dawns on him what she means. A young woman and a young man choosing clothes together in a conservative and ritzy men's shop — well, it might raise some eyebrows. A solution springs to mind.

"You can say I'm your brother." He says, proud of the idea.

"But…" she was about to point out their skin tone difference when he grabs her arm.

"C'mon…'Sis!" He smiles wickedly pulling her in the door with him.

"Yes, sir, what can I help you with today?" A snooty looking clerk asks, surveying Sayer and Susan up and down critically.

"My sister," Sayer stresses the word looking at Susan, "and I would like to look at some clothes and stuff."

"Don't forget the tuxedos," Susan adds.

"Oh yeah, three tuxedos, too."

"All for you, sir?" The clerk asks skeptically.

"One's for me. The other two are for my brothers."

"I must tell you, sir, our tuxedos, are rather expensive." His high-faluting English accent heavy, the British man obviously doubted this customer's credibility.

"Oh, that's alright," It doesn't phase Sayer, "I think I brought enough to cover it." He pulls out the huge wad of cash bills from his pocket, all large, ten thousand yen notes. The clerk's bulging eyes light up.

"Oh, yes sir, certainly," the clerk says, suddenly humble, "what sort of tuxedos would you be interested in?"

"Show me what you got."

The clerk quickly whips out a catalogue. "We have a large stock in the back room, as well," he offers.

"That's good," Susan smiles, "the wedding is tomorrow."

"Wedding tuxedos then?" The man queries. "A friend's wedding?"

"A very good friend." Sayer says meaningfully looking up from the catalogue.

"Well then, let me show you some of our finest suits." The clerk leads them through the shop. He takes them over to a display of especially pricey looking suits and picks up a black jacket.

"This one looks just your size, sir." He holds it out for Sayer to try on. Sayer slides into it easily, pulling on the lapels.

"Yeah, it'll do." Sayer says simply.

The man smiles, obviously pleased with his customer's easy-going attitude. "I'll have it wrapped for you right away." He says, clapping his hands as a young man hurriedly takes the tuxedo into the back room. "And for your brothers, sir?"

Sayer casually looks around, spotting one he liked. "I think Ter would like that grey one with tails, don't you, Susie?"

Susan, trying to stay unnoticed in the corner, just nods.

"All right, that one—you got a long one? My brother's kinda tall. But he's still skinny!" Peeking around the corner of the shop mannequin, Sayer informs the clerk.

"Yes, we have that grey one available in several sizes."

"Good. And I guess this one for Robin," he picks up a smaller bluish one with an uncertain shrug.

"Certainly, sir." He claps again and more scurrying clerks come running.

"Oh yeah," Sayer remembers, "we'll need some shirts and belts, and socks, and shoes, and cufflinks and ties and-" he pauses, looking sneakily at Susan, "some underwear, too." Susan looks down, blushing. The snooty clerk no longer cared about the low-class bluntness of his customer, all he could see were the dollar signs lighting up in his head.

"Yes, sir. Any kind you'd be interested in, in particular?"

"Nah. Just pick out 3 sets of everything." Sayer says nonchalantly.

"Can you tell me the exact sizes of you and your brothers, sir?" he says.

"Sizes, huh?" Sayer looks up blankly. "You got a phone?"

"Certainly, sir."

"Susie, could you call Ter and ask him our sizes?"

"Oh, all right." She says, suddenly nervous, following the salesman to the phone.

"Don't forget mine!" He bellows through the usually sedate storeroom.

Susan nods, smiling at her young companion's immaturity and reliance on his older brother. She dials home, her nervousness growing with each ring. What am I going to say? The thought races through her mind.

"Hello?" Alex's low voice answers.

(To be Continued)

© ETLW