Not surprisingly, after school started, my grades were not impressive. I was still okay in the subjects that had always been easy for me, English and history and social science. But math was impossible. Every day I slipped farther behind. Each gap in my understanding made the next lessons that much more difficult, until I went to math class with a sick stomach and the pulse rate of a Chihuahua. A big mid-semester test was the make-or-break point at which I would get such a bad grade that I would be doomed to fail the rest of the semester.

The day before the test, I was a wreck. My anxiety spread to Carrington, who cried when I held her and screamed when I put her down. It happened to be a day when Mama's friends from work had invited her out to dinner, which meant she wouldn't be home until eight or nine. Although I had planned to ask Miss Marva if she would look after Carrington an extra couple of hours, she had greeted me at the door with an ice bag clasped to her head. She had a migraine, she said, and as soon as I took the baby she was going to take some medicine and go to bed.

There was no way to save myself. Even if I'd had time to study, it wouldn't have made a difference. Filled with hopelessness and unendurable frustration. I held Carrington against my chest while she screeched in my ear. I wanted to make her stop. I was tempted to cover her mouth with my hand, anything to make the noise go away. "Stop it," I said furiously, my own eyes stinging and welling. "Stop crying now. " The rage in my voice caused Carrington to scream until she choked. I was certain anyone outside the trailer could hear and would assume someone was being murdered.

There was a knock on the door. Stumbling toward it blindly, I prayed it was Mama, that her dinner had been canceled and she was back early. I opened the door with the writhing baby in my arms, and saw Hardy Cates's tall form through a blur of tears. Oh. God. I couldn't decide if he was the person I most wanted to see. or the absolute last person I wanted to see.

"Liberty..." He gave me a baffled glance as he came in. "What's going on? Is the baby okay'? Have you been hurt?"

I shook my head and tried to talk, but suddenly I was crying as hard as Carrington. I gasped with relief as the baby was lifted from my arms. Hardy propped her over his shoulder, and she began to calm down instantly.

"I thought I'd stop by to see how you were doing," he said.

"Oh, I'm just great," I said, dragging my sleeve across my streaming eyes.

With his free arm, Hardy reached out and drew me against him. "Tell me," he murmured into my hair. "You tell me what's wrong, honey." Between sobs I babbled about math and babies and lack of sleep, while Hardy's hand coasted slowly over my back. He didn't seem at all disconcerted at having two wailing females in his arms, just held us both until the trailer had quieted.

"There's a handkerchief in my back pocket," he said, his lips brushing my wet cheek. I fumbled for it, flushing as my fingers brushed against the hard surface of his backside. Raising the kerchief to my nose, I blew it with a gusty snort. Right after that, Carrington burped loudly. I shook my head in defeat, too tired to feel shame at the fact that my sister and I were disgusting and troublesome and completely out of control.

Hardy chuckled. Easing my head back, he looked into my reddened eyes. "You look like hell," he said frankly. "Are you sick or just tired?"

"Tired," I croaked.

He smoothed my hair back. "Go lie down," he said.

It sounded so good, and so impossible, that I had to set my jaw against another flurry of sobs. "I can't...the baby...the math test..."

"Go lie down." he repeated gently. "I'll wake you in an hour."

"But—"

"Don't argue." He nudged me in the direction of the bedroom. "Go on."

The feeling of relinquishing responsibility to someone else, letting him take control, was a relief beyond words. I found myself trudging to my bedroom as if wading through quicksand, and collapsed to the bed. My bruised mind insisted I shouldn't have dumped my burden on Hardy. At the very least I should have explained about how to fill the formula bottles and where the diapers and wipes were. But as soon as my head sank into the pillow, I fell asleep.

It seemed that scarcely five minutes had passed before I felt Hardy's hand on my shoulder.

Groaning. I shifted to look at him with a bleary stare. Every nerve in my body screamed in protest at the necessity of waking up. "It's been an hour," he whispered. He looked so fresh and self-possessed, radiating vitality as he bent over me. He seemed to have such inexhaustible strength, and I wished I could have just a little of it. "I'm going to help you study," he said. "I'm great at math."

I replied with the surliness of a punished child. "Don't bother. I'm beyond help."

"No you're not," he said. "By the time I'm finished with you. you'll know everything

you need to know."

Realizing the trailer was quiet—too quiet—I raised my head. "Where's the baby?" "She's with Hannah and my mother. They're looking after her for a couple of hours." "They...they...but they can't!" The thought of my fractious baby sister in the care of

Miss Judie "spare the rod. spoil the child" Gates was enough to give me a heart attack. I lurched to a sitting position.

"Sure they can," Hardy said. "I dropped Carrington off with the diaper bag and two bottles of formula. She'll be fine." He grinned at my expression. "Don't worry. Liberty. One afternoon with my mother is not going to kill her."