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Maybe he was, and maybe he was right. I shook the thought from my mind. After all, hadn't Craig faced the same problems and stood by me? Somehow, we had to find the strength to prevent other people from dictating our lives to us. He and I had the same challenges in a sense. We were truly alike. Ironically, it's more often than not that people who are unlike each other end up together but don't find that out until it's too late, I thought. His parents certainly fit that definition.

"Where did your father and mother meet?" I asked.

"She was going to a nearby all-girls prep school and he was a custodian, a handyman there. From the little she will tell me about that, about him, I understood that he was what she calls persuasive. That's the nicest word she'll use. Sometimes," he said, lowering his voice as if there were people nearby who could overhear us, "I believe she thinks he was the devil himself, seducing her. Anyway, after they did get married, they bought our property, and for a while it was a very successful egg farm. She said he began to drink heavily and that was when

things got bad, so bad, she says, that he no longer cared about her or me."

He put his fork down and looked very pensive. "What?"

"Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but there were times, not lately, but times when I had the feeling he was nearby, watching me. I used to dream about him coming by while I was walking to town or school. He would stop to offer me a lift and I would know it was my father immediately. It got so I studied every driver in every car that passed by me. Sometimes, I'd sit by my window and look out in anticipation of seeing him standing off to the side somewhere watching our house, anticipating me stepping out. I'd even go out and walk around aimlessly just in the hope that was true.

"My mother knew it. I could tell, and it made her furious. It got so I was afraid to even think about him in her presence, afraid she might see it in my face. She has a way of looking right through people and seeing their most inner thoughts and feelings."

"Oh, Duncan, I don't think she has such a power."

"No, it's true. Whenever we go to the church or she meets some of the people, she mutters about this one or that one, telling me things I have no idea how she could know."

"Maybe she's just assuming things, guessing."

"Believe me. She can do it," he insisted. "She's very strong in her own way. Other women would probably have folded up and gone running to their parents or family, begging to be taken in or something. She just seems to get stronger, harder with every hardship. She's always telling me that God tests us continually. I'm sure I'm being tested now."

"Because you're with me?"

"Yes, but I won't run from you again," he promised. "At least, I hope I won't."

"You better not. At least until you help me clean up here," I added, and he laughed.

"When she sees you, really gets to know you, she'll realize you're a good person, Alice."

"I hope so. I hope I am," I said.

"What about your parents? Your father?"

"He has another family and lives in California. I saw them recently, and he was the closest to me he's ever been. When he left, I had the feeling he would spend more time with me or care more about me, but that hasn't happened yet. His wife is very protective of their children, twin boys, and they've kept my existence, my relationship with him, a secret from the twins and from their friends."

"And you've really never seen your mother?"

"No. Someday, maybe," I said. "I often do what you said you do, imagine her around."

"Aren't we a pair of pathetic losers," he muttered.

"The jury's still out on that," I said, recalling one of my grandfather's favorite expressions. Duncan smiled.

I rose and began to clear the table, and he quickly joined in. Side by side, we washed and dried the dishes, bowls, silverware and then cleaned the counters and the table, putting everything in its proper place. By the time we were done, even Sherlock Holmes would have trouble proving anyone had eaten dinner here.

"My aunt's going to think I skipped dinner. I'm going to have to prove it to her," I said.

"You going to tell her I was here?"

"Why not?"

"Your uncle might not like it."

"They haven't told me not to have anyone here. They certainly know I'm seeing you. My aunt trusts me and wants me to be happy," I added, but I wondered if she might think I had been sneaky about it, pretended to have lost interest in him and hidden our secret meetings from her. I made up my mind to be sure to explain it all to her.

"They might forbid you to see me again. I can't blame them."

"Stop it, Duncan. My aunt knows who you are. She's never said anything like that to me."