He could hear the phone ringing from deep within the house as he fumbled with the key in the lock.

"Damn," he swore, jiggling the key harder. It finally turned, and the door swung open.

In his haste, he tripped on the last step of the entryway. His keys flew from his fingers, and he fell with a thud to the thick carpeting.  Scrambling to his feet, he raced to the kitchen and snatched the receiver from its hook.

"Hello?" he shouted into the mouthpiece. "Hello! Hello?"

At first, he thought whoever was calling had hung up. Then a voice crackled in his ear.

"And to which baby brother am I speaking?"

Brad grew dizzy at the sound of her voice. “Brenda?" he choked.

"Brad, darling!" she screeched in delight. "I hoped it would be you. Listen, Honey. I have to talk fast. I'm calling from a payphone, and it's costing."

Brad smiled. Some things never changed.

"Do you still have a room over there for a long-lost sister? I need a place to crash."

"Yes, of course," Brad sputtered. "You don't need an invite, Brenda. This is your home, too. But I don't understand."

She laughed lightly. "There's nothing to understand, Brad. I'll grab a cab and see you in an hour."

"Wait!" Brad shouted into the receiver. "Let me come pick you up!"

"Nonsense, Number One, I'm a big girl now. Besides," she laughed. "You know how I hate waiting. See you soon!"

Brad heard the click, and the phone went dead in his hand. He stared at the receiver, not believing he had spoken to his sister on the other end. Slowly, he replaced the receiver and stared at the instrument on the wall.

# # #

Two years. The time seemed to crawl until now. Now it felt the time had gone by so quickly. It seemed like yesterday Brenda left Barry and him alone. He could still see the tears swimming in her vast, green eyes when she told him.

"I'm sorry, Number One," she said. "I don't want to hurt you, but I have to go. You have Uncle Stanley to watch out for you guys." She had studied Brad's face for a long time before bending down to hug him.

"I can't stay," she whispered to him as her lips brushed his cheek. "But I'll come back soon. I promise." She left her hands resting on his face for a moment longer, then turned, picked up her one bag, and then turned back to him.

"Tell Vince," she started to say. She stopped, struggling to find the right words. "Tell him. . ."

When the words didn't come, she shook her head and lifted her hands helplessly.

She was gone in a flash of long jet-black hair and slender blue-jeaned legs. Brad never heard from her again until now.

# # #

The sound of the taxi pulling into the driveway snapped him out of his reverie, and he ran for the front door. The driver finished removing her bag from the trunk, and she was paying the fare when she turned and saw Brad striding quickly across the lawn.

"Number One!" she screamed. "Lord, let me look at you!"

Brad grabbed her around her tiny waist and swung her around, laughing as he buried his face in her hair. "God, I missed you!" he cried. "I can't believe you're here!"

"Believe it," she laughed.

Brad squeezed her until she groaned. "It seems like a lifetime since you left."

"Nah," she teased. "only half."

She broke from Brad's grasp, her face growing serious. "How are you, Baby? Is everything okay? Do you hate me?"

Brad shook his head, afraid he wouldn't be able to speak past the lump in his throat.

"I have something to show you," she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She turned, her head disappearing into the back seat of the cab. She emerged a moment later, a child in her arms.

His hair was dark black and full of curls. His eyes were a deep blue, and Brad's breath caught in his throat as he stared from the baby to his sister and back again, a light dawning in his eyes.

Brenda nodded in affirmation.

"Does he know?" Brad asked.

She lowered her gaze. "No," she said. Then she looked at her son, and her face glowed with her smile. Brad had never seen her like this.

"His name is Stephen Vincent Gerard. He looks just like him, doesn't he?"

Brad nodded, unable to look away from his sister.

Her hair was still a shiny black, but he could see a few faint strands of grey in the bright sunlight. In her ears, she wore long earrings decorated with turquoise and coral. On her neck was a black velvet choker imprinted with the emblems of the many phases of the moon. It was this that the baby played with while Brenda rocked him on her hip.

"So, what's happening now?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. I might hang out with you guys for a while."

"You mean it?"

She nodded silently, her eyes studying his expression. "If you'll have me, that is."

"If I'll have you?" he echoed in disbelief. "You don't know how long I've waited for you to come back. It's been, God, it's been a long time."

The last two years of trying to be strong, fighting to hang onto his youth but growing up beyond his years, two years of fights with Barry, two years of his struggle just to live boiled up inside him, and he choked out a sob.

"Brad?"

He shook his head helplessly, unable to speak.

"Come on." She tugged gently at his arm. "Let's go inside. It's too damn hot out here.

# # #

Brenda's movements were quick and sure, the jingle of the many thin silver bracelets she wore on her wrists filling the room as she threw together peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and poured sun tea into tall, ice-filled glasses.

Brad sat at the kitchen table with his nephew and watched his sister. Suddenly, he felt very young again. He felt protected and safe. Everything was going to be alright. Now he could take the burdens he had been carrying and push them away because Brenda was here, and Brenda could take care of everything again.

She handed her son a folded piece of bread smeared with grape jelly, then placed Brad's sandwich in front of him. She set the glasses on the table, sliding them further away from Stephen when the baby reached out to grab one. The baby took a bite of his sandwich and giggled at his mother. Brenda put her hands on her hips, giving him a sidelong glance, and Stephen laughed happily, the jelly dripping from his chin.

The baby’s laugh filled the room and echoed in his ears. It made him want to burst out laughing himself. It had been ages since he had heard the sound of laughter in this house.

"So," she smiled as she joined him at the table. She took a bite from her sandwich and rolled her eyes at the baby. He giggled again. "Tell me what I've been missing."

Brad's hand stopped in mid-air. His shoulders sagged. His appetite left him, and he set the untouched sandwich back onto the plate. He reached into the pocket of his jacket and fished out a crumpled pack of Marlboros. His hands trembled as he placed a cigarette between his lips and struck the match.

"You're smoking now? When did you start that?"

He shrugged. "I don't remember."

"I thought you looked thinner, Brad. You're not eating." It was more of a statement than a question.

"I'm not hungry."

Concern flashed in his sister's green eyes. "Are you sick?"

"No, I'm not sick," he answered sharply. "I'm just," he shrugged his shoulders again and took a deep drag off the cigarette, exhaling loudly.

Brenda stopped eating and eyed him across the table. "Just what, Honey?"

"I don't know what to say, Brenda. You just got home. I'm so fuckin' happy you're back that I don't know how to act. Besides, I wouldn't know where to start."

# # #

Brenda sat quietly and studied her brother, her Number One. The nickname had started before the car accident, on the night her brothers came into the world.

Since Brenda was only a child herself at the time, she went with her parents to the hospital the night her mother went into labor with the twins. Of course, at the time, they didn't know.

Brenda had been so excited, knowing that she was about to get a baby brother or sister. Her mother told her that she would know when the baby "came out" if it would be a boy or girl.

After a very long time in the waiting room, a nurse approached them.

"Well," she said, a big smile on her face. "Number One is here. Now we just have to wait for Number Two!"

Brenda's father almost fainted at the news, but Brenda was ecstatic. Two babies! Number One and Number Two! And that is what she called them until she grew older and realized they had names.

Barry, of course, being Number Two, didn't care much for it. Barry had always wanted to be Number One.

# # #

Now that she could study her brother, she could see the dark circles under his eyes. He was thinner than she remembered. His hands had a slight tremble, and his voice a minute quiver when he spoke. He seemed to have aged ten years in the two she had been gone. Her heart broke at the sight of him.

"Why don't you start at the beginning, Brad?" she asked softly.

Brad stamped his cigarette out in the uneaten sandwich and pushed it away, reaching instead for the glass of iced tea. He took a long swallow before answering, "The beginning," he muttered. "I know there is one. I just can't seem to find it."

Brenda reached out a hand, but he pulled away and buried his face in his hands.

"Brad," she whispered.

"How about eight years ago? That's a fitting place to start."

"Brad, don't."

"I miss them, Brenda," he murmured through his fingers. "I can't sleep at night anymore. I lay awake half the night talking to them and the other half listening for them to answer. I have yet to get one, you know? And I have so many questions."

Brenda only nodded, the concern mixed with fear for him showing in her eyes. She remained quiet, knowing somehow that he needed to let this out a long time ago.

"At first, I was angry with Dad because he was driving the car. I'm the only one that had to go through the surgery. And now I limp around like a cripple, one leg shorter than the other."

"Brad, it's not that noticeable..."

He held up a silencing hand. "Why am I the only one scarred for life? You and Barry, hell, you and Barry walked away without so much as a scratch." He stopped and took another drink of tea, setting the glass back on the table a little harder than he intended.

"And I'm still so angry with Mom. She was turned into a cripple and didn't want to live anymore. Then I get angry at her for not having enough nerve to stay alive to see us grown. I get so pissed off when I think of how easy it was for her just to let go and die and leave us to fend for ourselves. Why didn't she have the courage to stick it out?"

Brenda only shook her head. She knew where this was going but didn't want Brad to start focusing on their mother's death. Once he got over blaming their mother, he would remember Barry's hand in it.

But Brad surprised her by bypassing that conversation. "Tell me something, Sis?" He lowered his hands from his eyes and looked directly into hers.

She nodded without speaking and took another bite of her sandwich.

"Why didn't you care enough to stick it out?"

She almost choked and swallowed hard before speaking. "Brad, that's not fair!"

The anger started in the pit of his stomach and erupted in his words. "Fair?" he asked, his voice rising with his anger. "You want fair? When was all the fairness handed out when you left us behind?"

Brenda's face flamed as if she had been struck. This was so unlike her Number One. They had always been so close and rarely ever had they spoken harshly to one another. Now the boy that sat across from her was an angry and defensive young man.

"I didn't want to leave anyone behind, Brad." she insisted. "Honest to God. I didn't have a choice."

Brad glared at her. "You might get me to believe that, but Barry will never buy it."

"Why not?"

"After you left, we both just kinda, well, everything kind of fell apart."

"Brad," she whispered.

"Did you know that Children's Services showed up here?"

Brenda shook her head, her heart in her throat.

"Of course, you wouldn't. How could you?"

"But why?" she whispered.

"They took us to juvenile court because we were underage and left here without supervision. We spent the night at juvie hall. They would have put us in foster homes, Brenda, separate foster homes, and this house up for sale to pay the bill." He held up his hand, leaving a small space between his thumb and index finger. "We came this close to losing everything."

"But Uncle Stanley," she shook her head, trying to absorb all that he was telling her.

"Uncle Stanley," Brad spat out the name. "died last year of a heart attack. And just so you know, he was never a guardian to us. Maybe on paper, and as far as the courts knew. But he had his brood of five kids to take care of. Sure, he stopped in occasionally, and thank God Vince was here when he did. But he was no one I could count on."

"Oh, Brad!" she cried. "What happened? How did you stop it?"

"Vince," Brad answered.

Brenda's heart jumped in her chest. "Vince?"

He nodded. "Vince saved our asses."

"What did Vince do?"

"He showed up in court and filed Guardian Ad Litem. If it weren't for that and a very sympathetic judge, I don't know where we'd be." His voice trailed off.

"I had no idea," she breathed.

"No, I don't guess you would."

"If I had only known, Brad.”

"Would it have made a difference, Brenda?" he asked suddenly. "Would you have stayed?"

"Jesus, Brad," she breathed. "I had no intentions of staying gone this long. Haven't you put it together yet?" She pointed to the baby, expounding at her brother's confused expression.

"I went to Phoenix, to the clinic there. I wasn't about to raise another kid alone."

"Alone?" Brad stammered. "But Vince. . ."

"What about him?" Brenda's voice hardened.

"You would have had his help."

"Would I?"

The question hung in the air before Brad's loyalty to his friend helped him find the words. He was suddenly angry with this sister.

"You know he would have been there for you! Vince would never have deserted you or his child. He would have married you and been there to help raise him. You would have been set for life."

"Maybe that's why I left," she said quietly.

Brad's mouth dropped open at her words.

"Brad, don't you understand? All of the shit we'd been through, and I was only nineteen myself." She struggled to find the words. "I hadn't lived yet. I had my resentments, you know. I couldn't start a family. I wanted to live first, don't you see? I wanted my life back. My life!"

"But you had the baby," Brad tilted his head at his nephew. "What changed your mind?"

Brenda studied his face for a moment. "I honestly don't know. Maybe it was my guilty conscience. Maybe it was God. But when it came right down to it, I couldn't go through with it. This baby is a part of Vince, the only part I had left. I just couldn't give that up."

"I'm sorry, Brenda." Brad's voice softened. "I mean it. I just wish you would have leveled with me. I would have done anything in this world to help you."

She reached out and touched his hand. "Yes, I see that now. I was stupid, Brad. Young and foolish and stupid. I only thought of you and Barry as kids, and that was wrong of me. No matter what your age, you both were people too, and you had feelings. I made the wrong decision. I panicked. I didn't think it would take me so long to come back."

"Why did it?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. Fear, I guess. And the longer I stayed away, the worse it got. I had to bite the bullet to call you. I was afraid Barry would answer the phone because he's not near as understanding as you are. I was so glad it was you, Number One."

Brad smiled at her and felt the chill leave the room. "It's funny; Barry and I were just talking about you this morning."

"I can't wait to see him," she said wistfully. "Is he home?"

"I have no idea. But you may not recognize him. He’s changed."

"Changed," Brenda echoed. "Better or worse?"

Brad hesitated for a moment, then sighed deeply. "I'll let you decide."

"Come on, Brad," Brenda was growing irritated with his evasive answers. "Out with it. How has he changed? You mean like you, all skinny and hollow-eyed, or something else?"

"Gee, thanks, Sis," Brad widened his eyes at her, and she did smile, which made him feel a bit better. "But I can't explain it. It feels like he's going downhill. I can't seem to get through to him anymore if I ever did."

Brenda stayed silent. She needed to hear this. If not for herself and the guilt she now felt heavy in her chest, but for her little brother, her Number Two, her Barry.

"Remember when Mom died."

"Oh shit, not this again. That was never proven."

"He was in bed with her with the tube in his hand. How much more proof do you need?"

Brenda shuddered at the memory. "He didn't purposely kill her. I refuse to believe that. He was already suspected and cleared. He was also mentally evaluated if you want to remember the truth."

"Vince thinks we should commit him to an institution, have his mental health re-evaluated. He might be a danger to himself and others. His behavior is out of control lately."

"No way!" Brenda argued. "He can't be all that bad."

"He is."

"But he's just a kid..." she started to say.

"Yeah, and that kind of thinking is what kept you away for two years."

"But how? When?" she stammered.

"His thinking is all messed up. He's paranoid. He imagines all kinds of crap. Vince thinks it's been coming on for a long time." Brad pulled another cigarette out of his pocket but didn't light it, only tapped it against the box to pack the tobacco." Vince thinks it's been so gradual that we wouldn't notice it."

Brenda felt the anger rise in her. "Vince thinks. Vince thinks," she echoed. "What do you think, Brad? For God's sake, you have a mind of your own, don't you?"

"But I'm not a professional. Vince is. He has the degree. I don't."

"But what do you think?" she repeated.

"I think Vince is right. Barry's thinking is confused. Like I said, he's paranoid, and he trusts no one anymore. I can't quite put my finger on it, but Barry is. '' Brad tried to grasp the words from the air. "Barry is."

"Barry is what?" The voice came from the doorway.

They both started, and Brenda turned in her chair.

At the sight of his sister, Barry stood frozen in place. Then he lowered his head, and the corners of his mouth curved into a half-smile. When he raised his head, the smile was gone, and a look of surprise showed on his face.

“Brenda?”

“Barry!” She jumped to her feet, closing the distance between them. “Oh, my number two,” she cried. “Look at you. You got taller!”

A muscle in his jaw twitched, his hands clenched into fists at his side. “Is it really you?”

“It’s me,” she laughed, tossing a lock of hair over her shoulder. “I’m back.”

“You’re back,” he repeated, then asked. “To stay?”

“Yes, to stay. Is my old room still available?”

Barry forced his jaw to relax and his fists to unclench. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he held her at arm's length and studied her. He stroked her hair then let his fingers trace the outline of her jaw.

“It’s still your room,” he said, letting his hands drop to his sides.

“Oh, honey, I’ve missed you something awful. But I’m back, and now we can be a family again. Would you like that?”

Barry’s shoulder raised in a half shrug. “It’s all good, Brenda. I’m glad you’re back. I missed you, too.”

Brenda's fingers anxiously caressed the side of her brother's face. Her eyes studied his expression. Both of her brothers had changed horribly, but Barry's change was more on the inside, not like Brad’s. His coldness was unsettling. It made her shiver.

“I want you to meet someone,” Brenda turned from Barry and lifted the baby in her arms. "This is my son," she said matter-of-factly. "This is Stephen. Say hello to your Uncle Barry, honey."

The baby turned his face into his mother's neck and clung tightly to her.

Barry studied the baby, his face an unreadable mask. "He looks like Vince," he finally said, his voice flat and emotionless.

"Probably 'because Vince is his father."

Barry looked away from the baby for the first time. "Does Vince know that?"

Brenda narrowed her eyes. "Not 'til I tell him," she tossed over her shoulder as she settled Stephen back on the kitchen chair. She sat down and lit a cigarette from the pack Brad had left on the table. Smoke drifted idly from her lips as she studied her youngest brother. She felt drained, physically and emotionally. She looked to Brad, but he remained silent, his eyes saying everything.

Barry slumped into a chair and leaned dangerously back on the legs. "When do you plan on doing that?"

"Why," she asked, motioning with her finger to his tilted chair. "Want to sell tickets?"

Barry let all four legs land on the floor with a thud. "I might," he said.

"Well, then, I'll let you know when the box office opens. You can stay for the fireworks." Brenda's eyes were burning with fatigue. She rubbed them with the heel of her hands.

"So, is Brad giving you the lowdown?"

Brad immediately jumped on the defensive. "I'm doing no such thing, Barry! I'm just bringing her up to date."

"Same difference."

"Please, guys," Brenda pleaded, holding a hand to her temple, which now was throbbing uncontrollably. "I just walked in the door. For heaven's sake, don't start this already."

"So, what’s Brad been telling you?" Barry asked, already forgetting to keep the legs of the chair on the floor. He leaned back precariously, and once again, Brenda pointed at the floor. And once again, he let the chair drop with a thud.

"Nothing you wouldn’t already know, Barry," she shook her head, which was a mistake. The headache was getting worse.

Barry reached for a cigarette. His eyes never left her face as he lit the match.

"You're smoking, too?"

"Yea, so?"

"So, nothing," she sighed heavily, resting her head in her hands. "Lord, I'm tired."

Barry ignored her red eyes and admission of exhaustion. "Brad met some cooz at Kelly's."

"Barry, don't start." Brad could feel his anger rising.

Brenda glanced up from her hands. "What?"

"He met some chick at Kelly's Diner."

"She's not just some chick, Barry!"

Brenda ignored the ensuing argument. "You met a girl? Good for you, Brad. Is she pretty?"

Brad smiled. Brenda had never seen Brad's eyes sparkle like they were now.

"No, not good for Brad," Barry interrupted. "I don't want him bringing her here. I don’t want any strangers hanging around here. Enough people are coming in and out as it is.”

"Shut up," Brad shouted, rising from his chair.

"Wait, Brad," Brenda's face lit up at an idea. “Wait just a second.”

Brad sat back down and waited expectantly.

"Want to know where I've been all this time?"

Neither twin answered but waited for her to go on.

"I've been at the cabin."

"The cabin?" The boys echoed in unison.

"Did you both forget that we have a cabin on Mount Lemmon?" she asked. "You know, the one that Dad and Mom bought like, a hundred years ago?"

"You’ve been there all this time?" Brad couldn't believe it.

"Not all this time, no," Brenda said as if reading his mind. "But I ended up there. Rafe and Annie delivered the baby. I don't know what I would have done if not for them."

"You've been that close all along and never once came home?" Brad started to rise to his feet again.

"Sit down, Brad, and save the daggers. It was the only place I could think of at the time, and why shouldn't I stay there? It belongs to us. And I had no money."

Brad sagged back onto the chair.

"Listen to me. That's not what I was getting at," Brenda said. "If you met someone, and Barry doesn't want her here, why not take her to the cabin? I've kept it cleaned up, and all the linens and towels are fresh."

Brad blushed at her insinuation.

Brenda laughed happily and even clapped her hands together. "Why not take your girlfriend up to the cabin? It would be nice, and the two of you could be alone."

"It's not like that, Brenda. She's not my girlfriend. I just met her."

"It's nice and chilly up there this time of year, you know," she teased, ignoring Brad's last remark. "It would make for some good snuggling by a warm fire."

Brad blushed a deeper red. "I don't think so."

"Oh, come on, Number One, it's perfect." Brenda was warming to the idea, not even thinking about her other brother's reaction. "Ask her if she wants to go for a ride, see some beautiful country up in the mountains. Ask her if she likes horses."

Suddenly Barry jumped from his chair. "You can't take her up there!" he shouted. "I don't want some cunt dirtying up our cabin."

"Barry!" Brenda was shocked at his reaction and tried to calm him. "It's not being used. We need to start enjoying our lives, and I'd say it's about damn time, too."

"But he can't," he said, his voice low. "It's Mom and Dad's cabin."

Suddenly, Brenda was seeing with her own eyes what Brad had been trying to tell her.

"Barry, honey," she touched his hand, but he pulled it roughly away. She sighed and went on. "Neither Brad nor I would ever do anything to disgrace Mom and Dad's memory. You know that we've always had your best interest at heart. You know that Brad has always watched out for you."

"I don't need Brad to watch out for me," he snarled. "I'm a big boy now. And I don't need your lectures either. I get enough of that from him."

"Whoa!" she held up her hands in resignation. "Okay, I give up. I'm not back to run your lives. You guys are nineteen years old. You're now considered an adult in the great state of ours. All I'm doing is giving you fair warning, Barry. If you play with fire, you sure as hell will get burned."

"Not me," Barry said under his breath as he angrily left the room. "I won't be the one who burns."

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