Heather stared absently at the pot of soup as she stirred it. Donna's drawing kept popping up in her mind, making it impossible to focus on anything else. She gritted her teeth and continued to stir the soup, wondering if the brew would ever start to boil. She had always promised herself that Donna never saw. She had assured her guilt-ridden conscience that nothing had ever reached her daughter's innocent ears. Apparently she had been wrong. She didn't kid herself into thinking that she knew how to interpret art, but she could remember the day Donna referred to in her drawing.

The storm. Thunder had rumbled for what had seemed hours before the sky broke. Lightning. Bright flashes of light that had shown rain slicing through the open windows.

The tears. The cold contempt. Unbelievable rage that had shaken her worse than any storm ever could.

The broken glass. The blood. A calm voice of the woman on the other end of the phone. The pain. The distant sound of sirens.

"Mommy? It's boiling."

Heather drew in a calming breath. She looked down and saw that the soup was indeed boiling. Turning the heat down to low she put a top on the pot and brushed her shaky hands down her apron. "It'll be ready in a few minutes. You go wash up and I'll set the table."

She had decided on an early dinner. Then she could hopefully settle Donna down and get her to sleep during a movie. After that, she looked forward to curling on the couch and having a good cry. She hadn't felt like crying since moving to Cedar Grove and now she felt like she was entitled.

It had been three days since she'd let a few tears slip in front of Justin. She felt the humiliation each time she brought Donna to school or picked her up. She saw the questions in his eyes each time he greeted her and hated herself for being such a basket case. Each night she waited for his phone call, only to turn off the ringer and tell her daughter that it was a telemarketer. She was grateful Donna couldn't read yet.

Donna kept up a running monologue during their dinner of soup and toasted cheese. Heather was able to simply nod and give a few one syllable responses occasionally and spent the majority of the meal picking at her soup. Over dessert - fruit cups and yogurt - Donna fiddled with her spoon and glanced at her mother worriedly.

"Mommy, didn't you like my drawing?"

Heather quickly swallowed the mouthful of fruit. "Of course I liked it."

"Why did you cry?"

"I didn't cry," Heather assured quickly.

"You had tissues. And your eyes were red. Like they used to be before."

"Before what?"

"Before we came here." Donna jabbed her spoon into the yogurt container.

"Donna…" Heather sighed and for the first time in months wished her mother was nearby. Close enough to call and ask to come over and help her with this conversation.

"I don't like it when you cry," Donna admitted.

"I don't like it either, sweetie." Hoping that her daughter wouldn't see her tears she reached over and pulled Donna into her lap.

"I won't draw it again, Mommy. I promise." Donna tucked her head under her mother's chin and leaned close. "They were talking about their Daddies and the boy beside me said he was going to draw a picture of his Daddy…"

"Was that a picture of Daddy?" Heather whispered, not bothering to hide her tears now. She already knew the answer.

"Yes."

"I'm so sorry, honey." Heather pressed several kisses to her daughter's blonde head. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that and that Mommy couldn't keep it from happening. Just know that Mommy will never let it happen again."

"I know, Mommy. It's okay." Donna's voice was muffled against her neck and Heather was relieved that she wasn't crying.

"I love you so much."

"I love you too Mommy." Donna lifted her head and sweetly kissed her mother's cheeks. "No more cries."

"No more cries," Heather promised, smiling through her tears. "You want the rest of your yogurt?"

"No. After dishes can we watch Duchess and her kittens?"

"Tell you what. You go get the movie off the shelf and I'll just put the dishes in the sink to soak. They can wait till later."

Donna smiled and kissed her cheeks again. "No bath tonight?"

"You have school in the morning, squirt. Bath."

"Shoot," Donna sighed as she slid to the floor. "Okay, bath. But don't wash my hair!"

Heather chuckled at the authoritative tone in her daughter's voice and watched her skip from the room. If only her own pain could be assuaged so easily. Wiping the tears from her cheeks she cleared the table and was washing her hands when the phone rang.

She knew without looking that it was Justin. She didn't know how she knew, but she knew. His helpless expression that afternoon had made her want to cry. And the fact that he had come into the Eagle the night before and just sat there nursing a beer and not speaking to her had really hurt. She stared at the phone for a long moment and finally picked it up on the sixth ring.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly before she could offer any greeting.

"I… Yeah," she answered, keeping her tone low. Donna had already put the movie in; she could hear the previews from the DVD.

"I didn't know it would upset you."

"I'm sorry--"

"Please don't apologize to me." She heard a door shut in the background and wondered who he was keeping their conversation from.

"I just… It… It's a long story."

"I've got time," he offered.

She closed her eyes, longing to tell him everything. To just open up and let her old wounds flow. But she couldn't. Especially not over the phone. "Not now," she whispered.

"When?"

"I don't know… Donna wants to watch a movie with me and… I've got dishes."

"Can I call you later?"

Later. She should have known he wouldn't let up so easily. "Justin…"

"Please, Heather." He sighed. "Or you can call me…"

"Two hours," she murmured. That would give her enough time to finish the movie and get Donna ready for bed.

"I'll be waiting."

As she hung up, she drew in a deep breath. She really wished she had a drink.

- - -

Donna had fallen asleep halfway through the movie and, though she knew it would be difficult, Heather decided to postpone the bath until morning. She tucked her daughter in and whispered a soft prayer before slipping out of the room. She switched the TV off and put in a CD to play softly. The turquoise fleece blanket her mother had given Donna for Christmas was on the floor by the armchair and she picked it up, wrapping herself in its warmth as she settled in the corner of the couch.

Her glance moved to the phone.

She heard a gentle thump and was instantly moving to her daughter's room. A book that she hadn't known what was in the bed with her had fallen to the floor. Heather placed it on the shelf and smoothed the blanket over Donna's legs before returning to the couch.

Her glance moved to the phone again.

Twice more she went to look in on Donna. The last time she hovered in the doorway a good ten minutes, watching her sleep and wishing she could feel half as peaceful as her daughter looked. With another prayer she once more returned to the couch. This time she picked up the phone.

It hadn't been two hours yet. Somehow she had kept track of the time in the back of her mind.

She had fifteen minutes left. That was time to have a quick cry and clear her tears before she called him.

But she dialed his cell number anyway.

He answered on the first ring. "If you don't want to talk about it over the phone I can understand. But… I just… God, Heather, this is killing me. 'cause I know that something's wrong and want to try and fix it but I can't until I know what's going on and--"

"Justin. You can come over," she whispered.

"Good." She heard his murmured reply just as a truck door slammed shut outside. Her heart leapt into her throat and she lurched off the couch to see who was at her house. Worried images forced themselves into her mind and even as she pulled back the curtain she longed to go check on Donna.

All her worries washed away when she saw Justin ambling up the walk. She blinked to make sure it truly was him. "God he's such a persistent jackass," she mumbled, not realizing the phone was still to his ear until his head lifted and his looked at the window.

"Can't help it," he murmured.

Still holding onto the phone she went to open the door, watching him silently as he took the steps two at a time. She glanced at the bag he held before the strain in his blue eyes pulled her gaze upwards. Before the door had shut she was in his arms and she reveled in the warmth of his comforting embrace as his phone fell to their feet. His flannel shirt was soft beneath her cheek and she was aware of the steady beat of his heart as his lips brushed over her forehead.

"You can hang up, I'm here now," he whispered against her temple.

She nodded dumbly and tossed the phone to the floor. Not understanding why she was so glad he was with her and not caring why she wrapped her arms around him, the blanket binding his arms to her waist. "Why were you already on your way?"

"Because I couldn't wait the whole two hours," he whispered. "I'm just a persistent jackass."

She smiled against his shirt and squeezed him. He was there. He was holding her. He had been worried about her and had come to be with her. Those facts caused tears to well in her eyes and she let them fall when he kissed the top of her hair. "You want something to drink?"

"Sure." He jostled the bag in his hand. "I thought you could use this."

She pulled away and brushed the tears from her cheeks with the edge of the blanket. He held out the bag and she saw the top of a wine bottle. She pulled it from the bag and glanced at the label. "Thanks. Coming right up."

- - -

Justin watched her from the opposite end of the couch. She was still wrapped up in the bright turquoise blanket and never before had he felt so far away from someone who was in the same room. She hadn't said a word since returning with glasses and the wine and he noticed that she was on her second glass. It wasn't even a glass, it was a plastic cup that was blue with white snowmen dancing around the rim. The only sound in the room was the ticking of his watch.

Coming to see her had been an impulse. But he couldn't stand the waiting. He'd tried to eat but kept seeing her tears. He'd tried watching TV but even his favorite show hadn't been able to hold his attention. His rambling on the phone had been true. He was still worried. Worried that something had happened to her or Donna and that he had caused it. And he wanted to fix it but something told him it wasn't as simple as a leaky faucet or a loose shingle.

He'd just needed to be with her. He didn't care if she talked or not. He just wanted her to know that he was there if she needed to let it off her chest. And yeah, he was dying to know what had caused her to cry over a simple drawing but he could wait.

He heard three seconds tick by and turned to her. "Heather, what's wrong?"

She met his eyes for the first time since coming back from the kitchen. The air left his lungs when he saw pain and worry and sadness and it was all he could do to keep from reaching to pull her into his arms. He somehow knew that she would pull away. Or, worse, push him away.

"Donna's drawing."

"Two people in a storm," he murmured. "She told me that it was you but she didn't say who the other--"

"Her father," she whispered. She took a sip of wine. "The other person is her father."

"Okay." He had no idea what else he could say to that without sounding like a jackass.

"I didn't know she was watching. When it was all over with and I went to her she was hiding under her bed and I tried to hold her but she wouldn't let me touch her. She kept crying about me being hurt…" She took a deep breath and he watched as she slowly placed the blue snowman cup on the coffee table.

"What happened?" Justin asked softly. His only guess made him want to hunt down the bastard and give him a slow and painful death and he blinked at the sudden rage. Never before had he wanted to harm someone he didn't know. He only knew that he wanted to rid the world of anyone who had ever caused Heather or Donna any pain.

"I got a haircut."

"…A haircut?" Justin repeated. What on earth did a haircut have to do with--

"He didn't like it. Said he married me because I looked good next to him and all of a sudden I looked too butch." Heather's eyes closed and Justin bit his lip when she clenched the blanket closer. "It just escalated…"

He had started a fight over a haircut. A stupid fucking haircut. Justin decided the man must be completely psychotic. He saw her wipe the tears from her cheeks with the blanket. "Into what?" he whispered.

Somehow he knew that she wouldn't tell him. She didn't know him well and she couldn't be expected to just bare all. She shook her head slightly and he reached to cover her hand with his. Holding his breath he waited for her to pull away.

She didn't. Her hand was cold beneath his and he lightly rubbed his thumb over her fingers in an attempt to warm him.

Justin sucked in a breath and forced himself to remain calm as her voice broke into a sharp sob. He couldn't stand it anymore. He didn't care if she pushed him away. He moved closer and slowly put his arms around her. Her head fell against his shoulder and he closed his eyes, smoothing her hair back and holding her close.

"I had to get away," she whispered, shoulders shaking. "I couldn't stay there anymore. Not with him…"

Justin swallowed his disgust and rage at the man he'd never met and decided that death was too good for someone who could even think of hurting the woman in his arms. "Heather," he whispered, gently rubbing her back.

"Donna and I packed up and left the next day."

He wanted to ask what had happened that had caused her to leave. What the man had done to leave her so haunted. A million questions tumbled through his mind and he struggled to find one that wouldn't cause her to pull back. "How did you end up here?"

"We were on the road for a day or two," she murmured. "Stopped at this little dive joint on the highway and Donna was looking at the map. She saw this little dot and asked what the name of it was. I told her it was Cedar Grove." Justin released his breath when she laughed softly. "She has this little cedar chest that she keeps her treasures in and asked if it was the same thing. She was insistent that we come see all the cedar trees."

"And you came."

"I did." Her grip on the blanket loosened and hands that were no longer shaking rested on his chest. "We asked Miss Ella if there were any places in town for rent. She told us about this house and… I guess she could just tell what was going on. It was like she just knew that we couldn't afford much and she talked Mr. Parker for us. We moved in the next day."

"You brought furniture?" he asked. When he had been looking for his own place this house had been up for rent unfurnished.

"No… The house came furnished."

When Trace and Jen had been looking for a house right before Christmas last year the house had still been unfurnished. "Oh," he murmured. He smiled against her hair and wondered if she had any idea. He looked towards the hallway and sighed.

"You can go check on her," she whispered. "She's okay but you can check."

"You won't think I'm weird?"

"No. I've already checked three times since I put her to bed." Her hands slipped into his and they stood up. Without his asking she walked with him down the hall and they tiptoed to the bed.

Justin listened to the even breathing and felt Heather's hand squeeze his. When he had assured himself that she was truly okay he let Heather lead him back to the living room.

"I'm sorry," she murmured as she picked up the blue cup.

"You don't have anything to be sorry about," he promised.

"I didn't answer when you called. I wanted to but I just couldn't."

"You answered tonight."

"I had to." She managed a smile. "You were ringing the phone off the hook."

Okay, he'd been a persistent jackass. Trace had told him that he was crazy. Jen had told him to keep trying. His mother… Well, if she knew what was going on she would have told him that he was crazy and to keep trying. "I just wanted to know that you were okay."

"I'm not," she answered honestly.

"He won't find you here," Justin said vehemently. "Hell, people don't just show up in Cedar Grove unless they know it's here."

"I just want her to be safe."

"She is."

"How can you be so sure?"

"'Cause I'm a persistent jackass."

"You really are," she agreed and he was relieved that this time she slid her arms around him first. Her hands were no longer cold and this time she wrapped the blanket around him as well.