"Bathroom's all yours," Mom said to me. "Clean up before you do anything else." She shook her head at my mud-caked sweater and slacks.

"You smell like a dog that's been running in the cold." Charity made a gagging face.

"Howy shwit," James cooed.

Mom blinked at me. "What did he just say?"

"No idea," I said, and shooed them out of the bathroom.

I took a quick shower--at least as fast as I could without getting my bandaged hand wet. What if I couldn't get to Daniel before he was done helping my dad?

I wrapped up in a towel and wiped the steam from the bathroom window. I peered out through the filmy glass. All I could see was the narrow gap in the white outline of the fence. I flipped off the bathroom light and made out what looked like my dad, kneeling in the grass near the decaying rosebushes. It looked like he was praying--perhaps giving thanks for James's safe return. But then he rocked forward and back on his knees, and his hands flew up to his face. His shoulders bounced up and down in a weird jerking way.

I grabbed my bathrobe. Dad needed me with him. But someone else stepped out of the shadows near the fence. He knelt next to my father, hesitated for a moment, and then wrapped his long, lean arms around Dad's quaking shoulders. I stepped back and blinked, and the window fogged over with steam.

I pulled tight the tie on my terry-cloth robe, bounded down the stairs, and ran smack into my mother.

"Where do you think you are going in that, young lady?" She scoffed at my robe and pointed to the dining room, where Don was telling Charity a story about his grandfather. "We still have guests in this house."

"But Da--" I saw the annoyed look on her face and remembered the way she'd sarcastically yelled at Dad for blaming himself for Maryanne's death. He didn't need that now. "I just have to do something real quick.

"Go put something decent on."

I grumbled under my breath and started up the stairs for a quick change of clothing.

"And did you take your muddy clothes down to the laundry or dump them on the bathroom floor?" "I'll do it later. I need to--"

"What you need to do is get dressed and then get your dirty clothes in the wash before they're ruined. Money doesn't appear like manna around here."

"But--"

"Now." And I swear she gave me this look like she thought I was up to something she wouldn't approve of. "Fine."

My legs ached and protested as I staggered up to my bedroom. All that running in the woods had taken its toll. I pulled on the first clothes I could find--a long-sleeved tee and a pair of paint-splattered overalls my mother particularly hated. I grabbed my dirty laundry from the bathroom and hobbled all the way down to the basement.

I was busy blaming Mom in my head for potentially ruining my chances to talk to Daniel and my father, when I heard low voices coming from Jude's bedroom. I could make out Jude's somber voice and April's cocker spaniel-like yips of reassurance. I clutched my bundle to my chest and inched toward Jude's door.

"It's not fair," I heard him say.

"Why?" April asked.

"You don't understand. They don't understand." Jude's voice went lower. "How can they not see what he's doing?"

April said something I couldn't make out.

"It's wrong. He's wrong. Everything about him is wrong," Jude said. "I'm the good one. I'm the one who does everything this family needs. I'm the one who is here every day for them, and now he's back for a few hours, and they believe him over me. Dad and Grace act like he's some kind of hero." His voice twanged. "How can Dad believe him, after what he did?"

"What?" April asked. "What did he do?"

Jude sighed.

Any pang of guilt I felt for eavesdropping was overpowered by my desire to hear the answer to that question--and by burning jealousy that he might tell April the thing he'd refused tell me for three years.

Jude whispered something, and I leaned in closer to hear.

"Grace!" Mom shouted down the stairs. "Make sure you use stain spray." I jumped back from the door and dropped my bundle. Jude's voice cut off, followed by shifting noises behind his door. I gathered up my clothes and hurried off to the laundry room.

LATER THAT NIGHT

Daniel was gone by the time I made it outside. He wasn't in the back or the front yard. Neither was Dad. It had been only about fifteen minutes since I'd seen them through the bathroom window, so I decided to take a car and track Daniel down at his apartment--catch him with my questions before he could skip town--but no keys were on the hooks. Dad kept the truck at the parish, and Jude must have still had the van keys. But strangely, the Corolla was not in the garage. I resigned myself to the fact that any more searching would be futile, and decided to help Mom and Don Mooney clean up the dining room.

I wasn't surprised Don had stuck around. He'd probably ask to move into Jude's room when my brother went off to college next year. However, Don's idea of "cleaning" involved eating the food off of people's forgotten plates.

I reached for the half-empty goblet in front of him.

Don stopped picking at the Band-Aids on his arm and gave me a huge turkey-in-his-teeth grin.

"You look real pretty tonight, Miss Grace."

I fingered my wet curls and wondered if I'd gained a new admirer for sticking up for him with my father the other day. "Thanks, Don," I mumbled, and picked up the goblet.

"You were real brave, too," he said, "going into the woods to find your brother. I wish I'd been there. I'd have protected you from the monster. My granddaddy told me how. He was a real hero." Don rubbed his injured arm against his chest.

I smiled. But then I thought of the jumbled contents of my father's office. Mom had taken a load of dishes into the kitchen, hut I lowered my voice just in case. "Don, while everyone was searching for James, did you go into the study?"

His eyes shifted sideways. "I ... I ... was just lookin' for something. I didn't mean to make such a mess. Everyone came back inside before I could clean up." He rocked in his chair like he was about to bolt.

Relief washed over me. "It's okay, Don." I smiled at him. "I won't tell anybody. But you really should put the knife back."

Don lowered his droopy eyelids. "Yes, Miss Grace."