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Before the evening ended, he cried out, almost in desperation, "Is everything we do here part of our education? Maybe well even get instruction on how to take a shower!"

"Maybe you'll get instruction on how to hold your liquor. Steven." Cinnamon countered, and everyone laughed.

Later that evening. I sat and wrote my first letter to Uncle Simon. I thought he would appreciate my description of the flora and the grounds, but I made it

clear how much it all reminded me of him and how I missed him, as well as Mommy and Daddy.

Mommy called that night as well.

"I wanted to call before this," she explained. "but your father thought I shouldn't. Is everything all right?"

"Yes," I said and described all that I had done, our meals, and the other students. We spoke for nearly a half hour. "This phone call is costing so much," I realized.

"I don't care," Mommy said. "You don't hesitate to call me and reverse the charges. Honey. Promise you will whenever you feel you need to or need to tell me something. okay?"

"Okay, Mommy," I said.

Finally, she put Daddy on.

"How's life in the big farmhouse?" he joked.

I almost told him about the strangely barred rear doors and windows, but didn't. I wanted to be sure I didn't sound any sort of negative note and plant the seed of worry in him or Mommy. Besides, what was there to worry about? I was sure there was some logical explanation.

Instead. I asked him questions about the farm. He was comfortable talking about the corn crops, the market, and his new machinery.

"Finally replaced that old grain combine of Grandad's," he told me. "I did a trade on a new one. His bones are probably rattling."

I laughed at the thought.

"You just have a good time. Honey, and make us proud. I love You," he said.

It brought tears to my eyes. I told him I loved him, too, and then we ended the conversation. Maybe he was right keeping Mommy from calling me. I thought. Hearing their voices stirred up the anthill of homesickness inside me. I had been doing all I could to keep from thinking about home. and Chandler. too. He hadn't called me yet, nor had he written.

When I turned on my computer, however. I was pleasantly surprised by a "you have mail" greeting, and there was an Email from him, describing his arrival at Boston University, his roommate, his classes, his piano teacher and the band instructor, and then, finally, in the last paragraph, how much he missed me and looked forward to his first opportunity to visit me in New York.

I wrote back, doing some of what he had done, describing the school and the other students, but my letter talked more about how much I missed him and our times together, especially at the lake on my farm.

My heart felt like a Ping-Pong table upon which all my emotions had been bantered back and forth. I had cried, laughed, sulked, and smiled within an hour's time. Exhausted. I prepared for bed, When I came out of the bathroom after I had changed into my nightgown. however. I was shocked to see Cinnamon just inside the doorway. She was wearing a robe and slippers and looked troubled.

"What is it?" I asked after a short gasp of surprise. You frightened me."

"Sorry, but I came to get you and had to do it as quietly as I could."

"Why?"

"We've got to go to Rose's room. Now," she emphasized. "Put on your robe quickly."

I hurried to my closet, took it off the hook, and slipped into it. "What's wrong?"

"There was another shadow at her window," she replied.

"Oh."

"Only this time, it left something behind on the fire escape."

"What?"

"C'mon. Ice is already there," she said, and opened my door.