Then she can show me how to let him in.

One thing to live for. One day at a time.

Daddy will try to stand in the way.

So I have to push Daddy out of my way.

To do that, I need Ian's strength behind me.

One thing to live for. One day at a time.

550.

Daddy Comes to Pick Me Up And all the courage I gathered overnight dissipates like smoke in winter wind.

He hands me a paper bag.

Clean clothes.

The ones you have here stink to high heaven.

Dutifully I go into the bathroom, slip into soft blue velour. It should feel comforting. But...

When I emerge, Daddy is looking at Ian's roses.

I.

hope he has enough sense to stay away.

Wrong! "Ian is the only good thing in my life.

Don't you dare try to keep him away from me!"

Daddy's stare is iron.

I guess we're lucky you aren't pregnant, aren't we?

"Shut up! Ian and I never...Don't you get that love doesn't have to be about sex?"

He stays in control, in case Carol is near.

Don't you ever tell me to shut up again.

"Or what, Daddy? I won't let you hurt me anymore. I swear to God I'll tell everything."

He comes closer, lowers his voice.

Go ahead.

Your word against mine. No one will believe you.

551.

I.

will.

The voice precedes a woman-- not quite familiar--through the door.

Daddy's jaw drops.

Mother! Dear God.

How did...what are you doing here?

Grandma Charlotte. Yes, I can almost remember her face. Only it's thinner, **

her gray eyes clearer. And she smells of expensive perfume. Not whiskey.

She draws near, reaches out one hand, but doesn't touch me.

Kaeleigh. How pretty you **

are. So like your mother. Forgive my long absence. And, please, forgive my silence.

552.

Six Months Since my grandmother re-entered my life. Six months of relative safety. Ha-ha. Forgive the pun.

I live with her now, in my parents'

postcard-pretty dwelling, coiffed and manicured from curb to chimney.

Like me, it's perfect on the outside.

But behind the Norman Rockwell facade, I'm slowly coming to terms with our secrets.

That day in the hospital, Grandma Charlotte confessed hers: I was too young to be a mother, only sixteen.

Ted was not a bad man. When I got pregnant, he did the right thing and married me. But we came from **

different places. I was a child of privilege, he a sweet blue-collar man. He was my rebellion. And when he couldn't give **

me the life I was used to, I fell into addictions. Whiskey. Cigarettes. And, to fight my depression. Prozac.

553.

He cheated, yes, but that's not why I left. I left from utter boredom.

And I left your poor father behind.

Daddy winced, but continued to listen. I wanted to know more.

I wanted to know everything.

Alcoholism is not a pretty thing, and I was an ugly alcoholic.

I moved in with a string of men.

None wanted to deal with a drunk, and eventually all of them showed me the door. One time, I decided **

I needed to find Ray, see how he was doing. I tracked him to Santa Barbara, a couple of years before **

the accident. Your mother and he seemed happy enough. Happy to have two beautiful daughters.

I wanted to be part of your family, even managed to clean up my act so they'd let me spend time with you.

554.

"So it was you who used to babysit us. I remember we used to play Monopoly and checkers, didn't we?"

She nodded. It was a wonderful time of my life. But then...

then the accident happened.

When Raeanne died, I only knew one way to cope. I'm sorry, Kaeleigh. You needed me.

But I needed Dewar's to get me through the funeral. Once I started drinking again, I couldn't stop.

I noticed Daddy's fingers, drumming the arm of his chair.

"But why did you go away?"

Grandma Charlotte glanced at Daddy, whose drumming quickened.

We can talk about that later.

555.

Turned Out That part of the story helped me make some major decisions.

That part of the story went like this: **

I.

wanted to stay in your life, knew you might need me. Your mother was broken, your father cold as the death of his daughter --.

the death he most certainly caused. The death none of us could really accept.