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ll-O when she walked, or waddled along, I should say. Her hair was milk white with a hairpin the color of dark chocolate holding her bun tightly against the back of her head. Her eyes were almost mint green, bright and friendly, grandmother eyes, as Butterfly would say. She had arms that reminded me of large rye breads and fingers that looked like fresh dough, one of which trapped a marriage ring in the folds between her knuckle and hand forever.

The house, small but very pleasant and warm, was filled with the aroma of meat loaf and apple pie. She had one other guest, a salesman named Mr. Franklin.

"I'm sure glad Todd told you to come over here. As usual I made too much for supper," she said.

She showed us the room with two double beds. We had a bathroom to share with her other guest so she asked that we be considerate. Raven was happy because it meant she could get a hot shower and wash her hair, "before it falls out from the weight of the dirt. Maybe our breakdown was a lucky thing," she added.

"Which is why I tell you to concentrate on the positive," Crystal said cheerily.

"Mercy," Raven cried and hurried into the bathroom first.

Toward the end of our dinner, Raven leaned over and whispered, "Maybe I should come along with you to the garage to be a chaperone. It's pretty obvious that Todd likes you."

"No," I said, maybe too quickly. Her eyebrows lifted. "Todd and I don't have time to be friends. Our car has to be fixed tonight so we can leave early in the morning," I continued.

She didn't look convinced and just shook her head slowly...."Well, don't say I didn't warn you."

Crystal sensed the tension between us and came to the rescue. "I think we've all learned from your experience with Taylor, Raven. I'm sure Brooke will be careful." And with that she shot me a meaningful glare.

Butterfly reached over and grabbed my arm. "I think 'Todd's awfully handsome, Brooke. Would you let him kiss you if he asked?"

"Geez, will you all stop! I am not going on a date! I'm just going to help him fix our car," I cried, desperate to have them drop the subject. I couldn't hide the flames that lit up my cheeks and Crystal couldn't help but poke fun at me.

"Hmm ." she said. "Methinks the lady doth protest too much!"

As they sat there giggling at me I wondered,

What if Raven was right? What if Todd really did like me? Would I let him kiss me as Butterfly had asked?

With all these thoughts and questions swarming in my head I barely heard Todd's car as he pulled into the driveway of the bed and breakfast. My legs were trembling as I went out to meet him and, when I turned back toward the house, I saw Crystal's, Raven's and Butterfly's faces pressed against the window.

They all looked so worried, as if they could see into my future. As if what they saw scared them.

11 Make New Friends

"So what's it like to be an orphan?" Todd asked as we drove to his dad's station.

"Well, I never knew who my father was and I have no idea if I have any brothers or sisters."

He nodded.

"How about your mother? Did you know her?"

"Not really. This ribbon," I said, showing him the ribbon tied around my wrist, "is the only thing I know came from her. She had tied it in my hair when she gave me up and someone had the sense to save it for me. It used to be bright red, but the color's badly faded," I added.

We pulled into the garage and got out. He unlocked the door and raised it. It rattled on its runners and stopped. Then he flipped a switch and the neon lights blinked a few times before illuminating the inside of the garage where Gordon's wagon was parked. The hood was up. Todd went to his

workbench and studied the water pump for a few moments.

"How was your father?" I asked. He didn't look up to respond.

"He was sleeping when I got there and was still sleeping when I left," he said. He plugged in a light and brought it over to the engine. I held it for him and he studied our broken water pump again before choosing his tools almost the way a surgeon would choose a scalpel.

"I guess you've been working on cars all your life."

"From the moment I could hold a wrench," he replied. "I don't think I was more than fourteen before Dad started to leave me in charge of this place. He'd go off and do something for someone, which was usually followed by a visit to the tavern. It was always supposed to be a quick cold beer, but it always turned out to be hours. The work would pile up. People would be furious about their cars not being done, and I had to make up stories.

"You know what?" he said pausing and turning to look at me.