"Fernelia Rose," we glanced in unison at the open door, "didn't I tell you not to disturb our guest?"

Fenelia slid off the bed and ran to him, she reached up with both arms. He picked her up and she gave him a hug, "I'm sorry, Daddy, I wanted ta see her," she peered around at me. She leaned close to her dad and tried to whisper, "she's pretty, I like her."

Wolfen eyes peered at me and he whispered just as loudly, "So do I, Nellie, so do I."

The smile that had been on my lips, at Fenelia's declaration, faded as his sank in. I saw the puzzled look leap into his eyes, as he noticed, my smile slip away. Again that mantle of superiority wound itself about his shoulders, "Dinner is ready and soon it will be cold. I suggest you not dawdle," with that said, he strode out of the room.

I sat up, put my hands over my face, and inwardly groaned. Why must I always do something to tick him off. I sighed as I went to shut the door, and changed into a long-sleeved tee; and jeans. I, then, went in search of the dining room. It wasn't difficult to find, I just let my empty stomach lead the way. As I delved into the rich food, I wondered if he always dined in style. The table wasn't fit for a king, but the food was worthy of the wealthy. I wasn't complaining, but I wasn't quite used to such a fine feast. I tried the caviar and found it not to my liking. I really didn't cotton to the idea of eating fish eggs. The foie gras was...unusual...How would one expect goose liver to be? The best part of the meal was the cobb salad and smoked salmon.

Throughout the meal I felt grey eyes upon me and I'd glanced across the table to see a frown directed my way. Near the end of the meal, I, thought I, realized what had caused him to frown. Here he was trying to have a well-mannered meal and I was eating like an unkempt yokel. I lowered my eyes to my plate, removed my left arm from the table, and lifted my pinkie as I drank my tea. Again, I felt eyes upon me and there was that frown. I felt like shouting, "What do you want from me," but I held my tongue, praying to God that the meal would be over soon enough, so I could go hide.

"Is something wrong with the food?"

"No, I...it's just that I am not used to eating food, such as this?"

He wiped his hands on a linen napkin, "Oh, is that so? I was under the impression that is the way you and your sister dine. After all New York, has some of the finest restaurants in the states."

I interrupted, "I am sorry, but I do not live in New York, so I would not know anything about where my sister dines. She is the one with money, I am the one who lives the life of a poor farmer. Thank you for the meal, it was very nice of you to go through all the trouble, of trying to satisfy my palate. You need only had asked and I would have told you, anything would have been fine, really. The only expensive restaurant I splurge on, is called Chop House in Gatlinburg. The steaks there are out of this world, you should check them out, if you're ever in Tennessee." I couldn't help asking, "How well do you know my sister? Were you and she lovers?"

"I do not see that's any of your concern," the grim line of his mouth twisted in a wicked little grin, "What would you say if I told you that we made passionate love on the very table you're dining on?"

I scraped back my chair and raced to my sanctuary. I locked the door, leaned on it, just as a fist pounded on the door. "Go away," I warily shouted, "please, just go away," I slid down the length of the door to sit upon the floor. I leaned against the door hating the feel of the tears, that slid down my cheeks. I hated to cry in front of anyone. Tears were a sign of weakness, besides that they got you mocked at. On top of that, a man had made me cry. I found Mom crying one day, after she and Dad fought. I never felt it was my fault, I was never given the impression it'd been, but as I sat there with my tiny 5 year-old arms around her shuddering shoulders, I vowed that I'd never marry a man that made me cry...I don't know why I dredged up that bit of memory,I guess, maybe a small part of me had hoped...I let that train of thought trail off. Why should I care where the two of them had made love? After all, I had just met him, it wasn't, as if, I was in love with him.

The tears petered out, hiccups took their place, another reason, I hated crying and my nose began running. I wiped my nose on my sleeve, because no one was there to see me do it. As I stood a tingling sensation hit me square in the chest and I glanced, at once, to the window. Fear gripped me in its steely claws, for I knew someone was...out there in the darkness, watching me. My esp, some would call it, didn't work when I wanted it to. And I often imagined predators when I was scared, but if I feel a tingle and automatically my gaze goes to the spot of origin, then there is cause for alarm. I turned, fumbling with the lock and I burst through the open door to run to find my host. I careened into him, as he came in from the kitchen. His arms snaked around me, to keep me from losing my balance. I leveled fear-glazed eyes, upon his own concerned eyes. At that moment, I could care less that he had made me cry. I simply clung to him, and shivered violently.

I don't know how long we stood there like that, him stroking my hair; and me blubbering like an idiot into his shirt. Fenelia is what brought me back to my senses. She had come out of her room. Her tiny voice quavered, as if she herself were on the verge of tears. "Daddy, why is she crying? Did you have a fight?"

As her dad took a step forward, I knelt on my knees and opened my arms. She ran into them and I hugged her to me. I stood and carried her into her room. I lay her on the bed, covered her up, then I lay down beside her. "No, Nellie, we did not fight."

She turned into me and mumbled, tearfully, "Then why were you crying?"

I turned an attentive ear toward the door, heard nothing, nor did I feel his eyes upon me. I smoothed a hand over the back of her hair, "I was afraid."

Fenelia leaned back and peered up at me, "Why?"

"I was afraid, because I thought an animal had been looking at me, through my window."

She laughed, "That's silly. Why would an animal look at you through the window?"

"Well, I don't know, maybe, because this is my first time of being in Concho and I don't know how strange the animals are around here."

She yawned, though she tried to fight it off, she opened her mouth to speak, but I put a finger to her lips and told her it was time to go to sleep, "I will stay right here, til you go to sleep," her response was to curl into me and within five minutes she was sound asleep. I moved ever so gently, so as not to awaken her. As, I stepped out of her room a hand grabbed my wrist and another covered my mouth. After he was sure I would not make a sound, he removed his hand from my mouth and led me to the porch, where we sat in rustic, hand-hewn rocking chairs, facing each other.

We warily observed each other, then after about five minutes, he broke the silence. "Were you really terrified of an animal?"

"No," I splayed my hands in my lap and flexed my fingers, " someone had been out there watching me, but I didn't want to scare Fenelia," I glanced up, "I know what it's like...," I glanced at my hands and fidgeted with them.

"Yes, please, go on, you were saying."

"I know what it's like to be scared at a young age. It does something to the psyche," again I raised my eyes, "if that psyche is...very fragile."

"Was your's fragile?"

I barely nodded, gazing at a point above his left shoulder, "I told you earlier there were many stories that led to me having arthritis, so the same goes for my phobias."

"As in phobias, you mean more than one, of course, but how many are we talking here?"

"Oh," I sighed, nonchalantly shrugging my right shoulder, "I don't think I really tried counting them all. I've been trying to work past some of them, but I don't think one totally gets over fearing things that really terrified them," I stuck up my fists, "let's see now. #1. Afraid of monsters under the bed," I sidled a hard glance at him that erased any mirth upon his face, "it wasn't a laughing matter, when I was Nellie's age. A family friend babysat me, when I was a baby, from then on, when she came to the house I was afraid she was going to get me, so I'd hide under my bed, as far back against the wall as I could get. Of course I don't remember, but I was told about it in later years. #2. I don't fear the dark, I fear what could be there, that I can't see. I don't know what brought that one on, so I haven't been able to face it. I don't like street lights around my house, because if I hear a prowler, then I want to be able to see him, before he sees me. #3. Is stairs, I don't mind walking on them, if I have a rail to hold on to. I never really tried to conquer that fear. I fell down a flight of basement steps when I was six and nearly broke my neck. I have an irrational fear of them, but only when I happen to slip on them. I was walking up a set when I was a teenager, the runner came loose and I fell forward. I grabbed hold of the runner, all the while screaming my head off. Mom simply told me to stand up. I opened my eyes and realized I wasn't in any real danger. But, I know I would react in the same way, if it ever happened again. Which brings about fear # 4. Heights. Excuse, me," I said as I rose, "I will be back to finish," with that I entered the house, to go to the bathroom, which was located in the master bedroom.

I exited the house, sat back down and started up where I left off, "Fear #5. Scary movies give me nightmares, because I watched one when I was eight. I watched about an hour of this movie and it took me two hours to get to sleep. # 6. Is a really absurd one, Vampires. I used to go to sleep with my covers bunched up around my neck. # 7. Seeing blood. Which is not really a fear. I get sick to my stomach and get dizzy, at the sight of it. # 8. Mirrors, especially ones that are in bathrooms, in houses, because of a movie. I also, noted that you have no mirror in yours. Why is that?"

He splayed his hands, "Maybe it's due to that movie you watched."

I snorted, and his gaze soared to mine, "I doubt that you are ever scared by a movie. What happened, you break it?"

He tensed and when he saw I was only joking, the tension eased out of his body. He did not elaborate, nor did I press him, though I had been intrigued.

I went on with my recount of my many phobias, "Fear #9. Living around railroad tracks. We had a dog once that got ran over by a train, when I was six or seven. We didn't know where the dog had come from. One day he just showed up and got between and my dad. Daddy was going to spank me for something and the dog growled at him. He decided to keep the dog after that." I smiled wistfully, "I really miss that dog. Fear # 10. Last, and maybe not least," I felt my cheeks redden. I saw his brow arch, "sleeping in the nude...because I sleep walk. I'm afraid I might walk outside in my sleep and someone might see me. I sleep walk, when I am troubled about something."

He let out a low whistle and I clasped my hands in my lap. I looked him in the eye and managed a weak smile, "You see, now, how very messed up I really am. It's a wonder I'm sitting here on your porch, having this conversation with you."

"How so?"

"Did you not hear 'Fear Of Heights'?"

"Oh, righty, the airplane..."

"Oh, righty's right. When I go back to Tennesee, I'll thumb a ride all the way back, if I have to. I am not getting in one of those torture chambers again."

He snapped his fingers and made me jump, "I hadn't thought to ask you how long you would be staying."

"I really don't know, Margaret said she had booked her room for three weeks, I don't know what I would do to fill my time for three whole weeks. Why?"

"I will have to run to the farmer's market to get a few things and I just needed to know how much I should get."

"When will you be going," I asked.

He eyed me suspiciously, "Why?"

"I was wondering if I could go too. Do you have to work tomorrow?"

"No," he scratched the back of his neck, "tomorrow's Saturday and that's when I switch out with David Peterson. Why?"

"Are you sure you don't want to turn that why into a who, so you can sound like a hoot owl?"

His only response was a deep-throated chuckle, that had me shivering. I guess he thought I was getting chilly, because he went into the house and brought out the afghan, from his living room sofa, to drape around my shoulders. I thanked him and knew the afghan would not stem the sweet shiver, if he were to chuckle again, "As to your answer, I was thinking that you could show me a little of the town tomorrow. I have never been to a farmer's market, though there is one thirty minutes from my home. You, Nellie, and I could make a day of it. You and I may not get along, too, well, but I adore your daughter," tears threatened to spring forth again and I turned toward the door. I knew he saw the raw pain in my eyes and I had to get to the bedroom, before the torrent started.

He barred my escape, then he reached for my hands. The mere touch of his fingers, on the backs of mined, released the first tear, "Please," my voice broke, "I need to be alone."

"You need not be alone," he took a step closer to me, "you can tell me. You can trust me."

"I can't tell you, not now, not..."

"Ever," when I nodded, he went on, "You can trust me," he repeated.

"How can I trust you? I don't know you, we don't even know each other's names."

He blinked in surprise, then he frowned, "I guess we don't," he took a step back and presented me his hand in friendship, I smiled a weak, tight, little smile and shook it, "Hi, my name is Cy Hawk."

I mulled his name over for a while and he patiently waited for me to introduce myself, I suddenly became shy and muttered, "Hi, I'm...," I hesitated, for I suddenly became embarrassed by my name, I whispered, "Harmony Jordan Slagle."

The eyebrow shot up, "Who in the heck named you Jordan?"

I was ready to defend my name, when I saw he was smiling, then I smiled, "My dad, he had wanted a boy and the old woman who had held the ring over Momma's stomach announced I was to be a boy, and, Boy, were they surprised. He had promised Grandpa the firstborn, not the firstborn son would be named Jordan, so he couldn't go back on his word. Grandpa got to hold me a few months before he passed away and he said I looked like an angel. He wanted my name to be Jordan anyway, because of the River Jordan in the Bible."

"I like your name, Harmony Jordan Slagle, it's...unique...quite like you."

I blushed with pleasure this time and tiptoed to kiss him on the cheek, "Thank you," I stifled a yawn and slipped into the house, whilst he stood there stunned. I was glad he had not gotten around to asking again about the pain that had been in my eyes earlier. I had to be on more intimate a foundation with a man, before I told him I would probably not be able to bear children. It would probably send any man running for the hills, before he got to know me. A lot of men craved an heir to their empires, no matter how meager that empire was; and truth is most of them wanted their first-born to be a male. I have toyed with the idea of adoption or a surrogate, but without the support of a man, I knew I would not be able to do either.

As I was turning down the cover, a knock befell the door. I opened it just a fraction, so I could peer out, "Yes?"

"I just wanted to let you know that the person outside your window earlier was me. I didn't want you to have a nightmare about it. You better get a good night's rest, we have a full day planned tomorrow." he turned away, then he stopped to say over his shoulder, "I am sorry what I said at dinner tonight. No...Margaret and I had not been lovers...though she wanted us to be."

I grabbed his arm and spun him around to face me, "What do you mean, it was you at the window," I hissed in a whisper, "Do make a habit of spying on your female guests."

"I wasn't..."

"You weren't what, spying? Then pray-tell, what exactly were you trying to do? Were you checking to see if my window was locked, in case a burglar happened along? Were you acting the part of a peeping tom? What were you doing? And as far as you and my sister go, I could care less," I would've loved nothing more than to have slammed the door in his arrogant face, but fear of waking Fenelia kept me from doing just that. I shut the door silently and flung myself onto the bed. I was shaking with barely contained rage, so much so, that I sank my face, as far, into the plush pillow, as I could. I screamed into it, as quietly, as I could. I, then, got up and quickly flew to the window. I dropped the curtains from their tiebacks feeling a little safer with the darkness outside covered; and knowing no prying eyes could see in.

I walked to the bedroom door and opened it wide, for after the scare I had received, I knew I would need Cy to hear me, if I should have a nightmare. I liked that he tried to ease my fears, but he should know, by now, that once an object was in motion, it usually stayed in motion, unless something big enough got in its way to stop it. His confession was a stepping stone, but a nightmare was a steamroller, I knew which one would win out. A motion from the other side of the living room caught my eye and I strode to the sofa, that stood there. I espied Cy laying upon it and I turned to go. I was halted in my tracks, as he grabbed my hand. I tried to tug my hand away, but his tug was harder; and I almost sat on him. He squirmed over and turned me, so I he could see my face.

"What is it? Is something wrong, Harmony?"

My heart skipped several beats at the concern I heard, I shook my head no, but could not meet his gaze, "You gave me your bed, didn't you?"

"Is that all you came over here for?"

I flinched at the hard steel that now edged into his voice.

I was tired of his dander getting up every time I opened my mouth up. Well, maybe not every time, but close enough to it. I stood, walked to the bedroom and climed into bed. I did not care if he was laying there wondering why I had left the door open. I did hope he didn't think it was an open invitation. If he had he would have come away with a lump, on his head, the size of a goose egg; and if you've ever raised geese, then you know how big it would have been. I fell into a dream that haunted me nightly and no matter how hard I tried to wake up, I could not rouse myself.

I was back on the farm, in Tennessee and it was getting near dusk. The house was on fire and it was up to me to go get help. I had to go through the shadowy cornfield to get to the nearest road. Any other time the cornfield wouldn't have been so dreadful, but the flickering firelight, only worsened my apprehension. A lone figure barred my way, and for one heart-pounding moment, I thought the scarecrow had come to life. As it neared me, a wave of relief washed over me, I saw it was Jameson Jones, our neighbor. I rushed to him thinking he'd seen the fire and wished to come to our aid. I told him about my parents being trapped inside the house and that we had to get them out. His drunken words, tore my world apart and I wanted to die. He said he was the one who set the fire and his one regret was that me and Margaret weren't going to be burned up in the house, too. I asked him why and he told me our land had been going to be his, when he'd got back from the Vietnam war. But by time he