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"Yeah. yeah. I know the fairy tale, I'm asking you for the truth."

"That's the truth."

"Fine." She looked about the farm. "I can't believe my father is actually going to go through with this. He wants to live here. He might as well check into a retirement home or something."

"This is a beautiful place to live."

She curled her lips and stepped away from the railing. "You have a cigarette?"

"No. I don't smoke."

"Right." She stared at me, then she smiled slowly. "I remember Elliot telling me about a time he brought some girls over to the house to smoke some weed and you ran away. Have you always been afraid of girls? Is that your problem?"

"I'm not afraid of girls." "Oh, you have a girlfriend?''

"No."

"You go out on dates?"

"What do you do, make love to herbal plants?" She laughed when I didn't reply. "This is so crazy," she said, looking around, then turning back to me. "Do you know where I was just recently?"

I shook my head.

"I was living in New Orleans. Ever hear of it?" "Of course."

"My boyfriend was a trumpet player in a place in the French Quarter. We had a lot of fun, partied almost every night until four in the morning, and slept most of the day."

"That doesn't sound like fun to me."

"I bet it doesn't to you. Your idea of excitement around here is probably a flock of geese flying north."

"If it was so much fun, why did you come home?" I asked, unable to hold back my anger.

Now it was her turn to be silent.

"I got bored," she finally replied.

"Did you get bored or did your boyfriend get bored with you?"

"Oh, you're so smart," she said, dropping the corners of her mouth the way I remembered she did. "Elliot told me how intelligent you wer

e. He used to think you were. something special. I don't know why he wanted to hang around with someone who hasn't been off the farm, but he did. You know, it was because of you that he drowned," she accused.

Her words seized my breath. "What?"

"If hee hadn't been friends with you. he wouldn't have been around that creek, spending so much time in the woods. He would have been with real friends in town or something. I don't know how my father could want to be here for the rest of his life and want to be a father to you," she said sharply.

Tears were in her eyes, tears of sorrow, tears of disappointment, tears of self-pity-- all mixed in with tears of rage and jealousy.

"That's not true," I said. "Elliot didn't die because of me."

"Right. Oh, what's the difference now anyway? He's dead and gone."

She sniffed and turned away.

"Betsy," Baby Celeste said. When she looked at her. Baby Celeste held up her doll. "What does she want me to do with that?'

"Hold it. She likes to share."