On her lunch break every day, Ella Welsh sits in the darkened nursery and knits. There is a rocking chair in the corner, and there, by the light of a small yellow lamp, she works on tiny blankets for the premature babies in the hospital.

"There's something so satisfying about making something with my bare hands that can help them. Most days I feel like it's all I can do," she tells Ambrey Wells.

"And that's why you can't meet me for lunch, like ever?" Ambrey says. "Whatever, Ella, just buy them a blanket every once in a while and come have coffee with me. They won't know the difference."

"But I will," Ella says, mostly to herself. She can't help but think, as she often has, that her best friend doesn't quite get her.

On this particular day, Ella is knitting a purple blanket for the newest premee to transfer to Washington Memorial, which is world renowned for its care for underdeveloped and birth defected babies. Around her, more than fifteen babies rest in relative peace, and she can't help but feel better about all her problems. At least I can breathe on my own, she thinks. Sometimes realizing that is all it takes to make her relax.

But on this day, she can't relax. No sooner has she gotten into the rhythm of the stitching than Ambrey's face appears in the window of the door to the nursery. Ella's breath catches in her throat and her mind screams. Don't! Ambrey clicks her nails against the glass and peers in. Ella is out of the rocking chair and across the room before Ambrey can open the door and wake any number of children.

"What are you doing here?" she demands in a whisper.

Ambrey's voice is high pitched and she squeals when she is excited. "I'm going to forgive you for being rude, but only because I have great news!" she squeeks out. Every nurse and anxious parent in earshot turns to them and every face registers disapproval. Some even reflect hatred.

"Shhh!" Ella grabs her friend's arm and drags her away from the nursery door and into an empty waiting room. "You can't come to a place like this, a place in which silence is sacred, and start yelling," she hisses.

"Ellie, it's me," Ambrey says, "not Jacob or Tyler. I wasn't yelling."

Ella sighs. "What's the great news?" She might as well be dealing with her little brothers for all the frustration she was feeling. At least if it were two children, she would have some compassion.

Ambrey's whole face lits up, their minor argument forgotten, and she squeals, "I got us backstage passes to the--are you ready for it?"

"Ambrey, just tell me!"

"To the Jonathan Lewis concert next month!"

Ella's jaw drops. "Are you serious?" she asked in her quiet I-can't-believe-it voice.

Ambrey reaches into her purse and produces two identical passes. "Tell me I'm the coolest."

"You are most certainly the coolest. I didn't even think we were going. I thought you said you had to work that night."

"Ellie, it isn't every day that your favorite musician comes to town. I traded schedules with another girl."

"That's funny, though, because once I thought we weren't going, I promised Jake and Tyler that I'd go to that school play they're in."

"Make your mom go. She's the one that's supposed to go anyway. You're their sister, not their mother."

Ella rolls her eyes. "You know full well that isn't going to happen."

"Well, I'll talk to them. They'll understand you missing some little play to go see your future husband perform."

Ella doesn't even attempt a smile. "No," she says, "I'll talk to them." Her excitement is deflated and all she wants to do is go find an empty bed to curl up in.

"Hey," Ambrey says, putting her hands on her friend's shoulders, "it'll all work out."

"Yeah," Ella says, "I guess it will. Somehow, things always do."

#

"Eww, Annabella has throw up on her shirt!" Tyler yells as he pulls back from her embrace.

"When it's babies', it's called spit up," Jacob says reaching up to hug his sister. "Who cares anyway?"

"It's gross," Tyler says. At six, everything for him is classified into what is gross and what isn't.

Eight-year-old Jacob isn't as simplistic in classifying disgusting things from non-disgusting things. There are degrees and levels. "It isn't gross if it's baby spit up," he says. "Kind of like puppies are less gross than big dogs."

"Can we get a puppy?" Tyler asks.

"You'll have to talk to Mom," Ella tells him, knowing that the sentence is a definite conversation stopper. "Did you guys finish your homework?"

"I did!" Jacob says. "On the bus." For a third grader, he is very time efficient.

"I need help," Tyler tells her.

"Let me go change out of my throw up clothes and I'll come help you," she says, ruffling her youngest brother's hair.

"Eww!" he calls after her. "Throw up clothes!"

"What are we having for dinner?" Jacob asks, following her to her room.

"Spaghetti, I guess." Ella can't cook much, but she can cook all of her brothers' favorites.

"Do you think Mom will be home in time to eat with us?" he asks.

"I doubt it, Jake. She has to go out with a client tonight."

"Do you think she'll call?" He's trying not to show his disappointment, but the sadness comes through.

"She always does," Ella says. It's a stretch of the truth, but she's willing to make it, and not only for Jacob's benefit. "Go on, now, I have to change clothes." At the last second, she wishes she had hugged him instead of sending him away, but it is too late. He is gone.

When Ella changes, she rejoins her brothers, who are now huddled over Tyler's homework at the kitchen table. "What's your homework about?" she asks.

"I'll help him, Ella Bella," Jacob says with a smile. He knows Tyler will laugh at the spin on her name.

Tyler does laugh. "Ella Bella! That's funny," he says.

Jacob looks at Ella and she looks at him. "You can start dinner," he says.

Tyler is still repeating "Ella Bella" to himself in a sing-song voice.

"Thank you," Ella mouths to Jacob and he nods.

Ella starts the spaghetti without too much thought. She is trying to think of a way to bring up the play or some way to work around it. Inspiration. "Jacob, where's that paper your teacher sent home? The one about the play."

"On the fridge," he says.

She looks, but it isn't there. "No, it isn't," she says to him.

"Mom took it this morning," Tyler says.

"Did she say she was going?"

Jacob rolls his eyes. "She said she was going last time, but she didn't."

"Mom said she would do anything to go," Tyler says in his mother's defense. He's the only one who defends her anymore.

"Do you remember when it is? What time it starts?"

"They usually start at seven, I think," Jacob says.

Seven o'clock, Ella is thinking, would mean I could be out of there by eight. She grabs the phone and dials Ambrey's cell phone number.

"Hello?" Ambrey's voice is faint. There are a lot of other sounds around her.

"Amb? Where are you?"

"Out, where are you?"

"You know that thing we were talking about earlier? What time does it start?"

"You mean Jonathan Lewis? He's supposed to go on at eight. Why?"

"When you say, 'supposed to,' does that mean he probably will or he probably won't?"

"Ella, would you slow down? Please." She paused, for dramatic effect. It was her thing. "I guess it means he's aiming for eight, but it probably won't really start until a little after. Tell me why."

"I can't. Just tell me, if we left at eight, could we make it there in time?"

"Sure, if there was no traffic and we sped the whole way."

"So, there's a possibility?"

"Sure."

"Okay, that's all I wanted to know. Be safe, Ambrey. Bye."

She hangs up and stirs the sauce.

#

At nine o'clock, Ella puts her brothers to bed. They are clean and sleepy, and don't protest too much. Tyler asks for a story, but before Ella can pick out a book, his eyes are closed and his steady breathing indicates that he is sleeping. Jacob isn't so easy.

"Mom didn't call."

"I know, she must be busy."

"Why does she promise if she can't do it?"

"I don't know, but it shows that she really wishes she could call."

"Yeah, right," he says and he rolls over to face the wall.

"Jacob, she loves you. She has a demanding job, but that doesn't mean that she doesn't love you."

He is silent, except for sniffles. Ella rubs his back for a moment, offering what could never be enough comfort.

In her own room, Ella feels ready to collapse. She turns on her Jonathan Lewis CD and tries to imagine herself at a concert. She tries not to get too excited about going, especially when the probability of something interfering with her plans is so great, but she can't help it. She falls into her bed and just listens.

Sometimes I want to give up, but you won't let me.

How right you are, Jonathan, she thinks. How right you are. She has grown past having posters in her room, past collecting magazine articles, past recording every television performance. And without any of that, all that remains is, what is the most important thing anyway, the lyrical connection. How, she wonders, can someone who does not know me, does not know of my existence, capture in words exactly how I feel?

Like she has on so many other nights, Ella falls asleep on top of her blankets, her favorite music filling her bedroom. She doesn't stir when her youngest brother wakes up, scared and alone, in the night. She doesn't stir when her mother slips into the house well after midnight. She doesn't stir until the morning, when her eyes and ears open to hear Jonathan Lewis' voice still singing.

#

In the morning, there is a note on the coffee maker. Ella makes her pot of decaf and sits down at the table with her brothers to read it.

Annabella,
Have a breakfast meeting. Sorry we can't all be together this morning. Make sure your brothers take their vitamins. I promise to call tonight, if I am running late. Tell the boys I love them.
Love Mom

Several things about this note disturb Ella. But she does as she's told. "Guys, Mom says she loves you."

Tyler smiles and stuffs his mouth with peanut buttered strawberry pop-tart, his newest creation. "Can I call her and tell her I love her?" he asks through the goop that Ella tries to convince herself is nothing more unusual than a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Jacob is frowning at Tyler and stirring his instant grits aimlessly. "Saying 'I love you' does not make up for not being here."

Ella hopes Tyler doesn't see the truth in that statement, as she and Jacob do, and tries to distract him. "Her phone's probably off if she's in a meeting, but we'll call her this afternoon after school."

"Promise?"

"Yes, but only under one condition," she says.

"What?" Tyler knows what she'll say, but loves the exchange anyway.

"You have to give me ten hugs."

"Ten?"

"And two kisses."

"How about five hugs and one kiss?" Tyler loves the bargaining more than he cares about hugging and kissing his sister less.

"Six hugs and one-and-a-half kisses."

"Deal!" Tyler shouts, jumping out of his chair.

"How do you give one-and-a-half kisses?" Jacob asks.

Ella seizes the opportunity to cheer him up. "Like this," she says, giving him not one-and-a-half, but rather eleven or twelve kisses on the top of his head.

"Yuck!" he says, wiping his head vigorously with his hands.

Tyler is giggling uncontrollably. "Ella can't count!" he says.

"Oh, yeah?" Ella says. "You're next."

This is the highlight of Ella's morning.

#

The new little girl's name is Brooke and it breaks Ella's heart just looking at her. Although born over a month early, she's smaller than some of the others, ones who had spent even less time in the protective care of their mothers' wombs. Ella wishes she could hold her, but is satisfied with sitting beside her incubator, knitting a blanket that will soon belong to the child. Ella once read that soothing music helps babies, especially ones like Brooke, so sometimes she sings, very softly, the words of Ella Fitzgerald.

There's a somebody I'm longin' to see. I hope that he, turns out to be someone who'll watch over me.

Ella was named after the jazz singer. Her given name is Annabella, but her mother has told her that she called her firstborn that so that Ella could be her nickname. When she was very small, her mother would put on all sorts of jazz music and they would dance around the house until they collapsed together in laughter. These are Ella's earliest and fondest memories of her mother. They give her solace when she is down and she can't imagine not sharing them, in a small way, with the babies.

She's still thinking about this when one of the RNs ducks her head in and motions for Ella to come out into the hall. "Brooke Barnham's mother wants one of us to go downstairs and sit with her father for a half an hour or so. Marcie said send you."

Marcie oversees the neonatal floor and does everything within her power to make the parents happy. It doesn't matter if their requests are reasonable. It only matters that they have some sort of solace in their lives.

Ella is confused. "Brooke's grandfather?"

"Yes. He's on the fourth floor recovering from a heart attack."

"What am I supposed to do?" Ella asks, deeply confused.

"I don't know. Talk to him about Brooke. Make sure he's comfortable. Keep him company."

Ella takes a deep breath. "Okay," she says. "I'll try."

The older man has very dark, very smooth skin. Ella wonders about his ethnicity, but doesn't ask. "Hello?" she says. She knocks gently on the open door and notices his name. Thomas Kelley.

He is watching an infomercial on television and is relieved to have an excuse to turn it off. "Hello!" he says, brightly.

"Mr. Kelley, my name is Ella, and I thought I'd come see how you're doing."

"Well, I ain't seen you before," he says. "You tell them not to keep the pretty young nurses away from me no more."

Ella smiles and notices the space between his front teeth. "Can I get you anything?" she asks. She pulls a chair up close to his bedside.

"No, honey, I'm fine. Just glad for the company is all." He stops and watches her for a moment. Ella would normally feel uncomfortable, but this man is so warm and open, she feels as though they've already met. He continues, "I reckon my daughter sent you from upstairs. I told her I wanted to see someone who watches my grandbaby."

"Yes, sir. In fact, I was with Brooke just a few minutes ago."

"How is she?" he asks. His face is drawn and serious now. "Don't tell me she's fine, either. I just want to know the straight up truth."

Ella swallows hard and is unsure of how to handle this man. She is so used to giving the brightest side of things that she has to try hard not to sugarcoat Brooke's condition. "Well, she's doing better today than she was yesterday."

He frowns. He wants more than just a broad generalization. "And what else?" he demands. "How long until she's normal?"

"I really couldn't say." Ella is shaken, but honesty has a way of refreshing her. "It's pretty much a day to day thing. Her lungs are still very weak and she's not gaining as much weight as they'd like. But she's still making progress. It's slow is all."

The old man leans back and closes his eyes. "I appreciate that," he says. "You can go, if you want. Come back tomorrow."

Ella feels impelled to stay with him for at least the half hour she was asked to stay, but there is nothing else to say to him. He clearly wants to be alone.

#

"Did you have a good day?" Ella asks her brothers. She kneels to hug them and Tyler showers her face with kisses and squeezes her again and again. He is holding up his end of their bargain.

"Can we call Mom now?" he asks. They are not even in the front door yet.

"I don't know. How much homework do you have?" Ella unlocks the door and pushes it open.

"None!" Tyler yells. "It's Friday!"

"Go put your things away and get the phone."

Tyler takes off into the house toward his room. Ella loops an arm around Jacob. "How are you?" she asks. It's pretty obvious how he is. He shrugs his shoulders and gives a little grunt. "Bad day?" she asks.

He nods and pulls free from her. He doesn't say anything. "Jake, do you want to talk about it?"

"No," he says softly. He starts to walk away.

"Come on, call Mom with us." Ella wishes he could find happiness in the call like Tyler does. But Jacob goes to his room alone.

Tyler's excited energy is boundless. "Where's the phone? Where's the phone?" he repeats to himself. Ella wishes she could get that worked up over something as small as a phone call. Especially when it will be brief and will end abruptly. Tyler hasn't yet come to expect that pattern though.

"Dial, Ella," he says, thrusting the phone at her. She punches in the number and waits to talk to the receptionist.

"Johnson, Clay and Roberts. This is Cheryl. How may I direct your call?"

"Cheryl, it's Annabella. I need to speak to my mother, please."

"One moment." There is music when Ella is put on hold.

"You want to listen to the music?" she asks Tyler.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he says, reaching for the phone.

Ella can only hear Tyler's side of the conversation and she predicted, it is short and ends abruptly.

"Hey, Mom! -- Yes, I took it. Are you coming home tonight? -- Why? -- Yes, I understand. -- Can we get ice cream? -- But I was going to... -- Yes, ma'am. -- Love you too."

He hangs up and hands the phone to Ella. "She said we could get ice cream, if you'll take us." He looks let down. "She wouldn't let me tell her about my frog."

"Your frog?" Ella forces herself to smile. "Why don't you tell me and Jacob about it on the way to get ice cream?"

Tyler is reanimated by the promise of ice cream. Ella wishes she could bounce back that quickly. All in all, she often wishes she was more like him.

#

"Where did you find it?" Jacob asks. His ice cream is butter pecan, in a cup because he doesn't like cones.

Tyler has Triple Chunky Chocolate Fudge. He says, between licks, "On the ground."

Ella says, "Well, yes, but where, Ty?" She, always health conscious, is eating sugar-free orange frozen yogurt.

"By the monkey bars," he says.

"What made you pick it up?" Jacob asks. "Wasn't it gross?" he is mocking Tyler, but not overtly. He doesn't mean to hurt his feelings.

Tyler doesn't notice. "No, it was cool! I wanted to keep it."

"So," Ella says, "you took it inside? What did your teacher say?"

"She didn't know." Tyler is grinning as he remembers this. "I put it in my desk."

"When did she find it?" Ella asks.

Tyler giggles, one chocolate sticky hand over his mouth. "She didn't!"

"Then, where is it?" Jacob asks.

"In my desk," he says.

Ella gasps and then goes into a fit of giggles worse than Tyler's. "That is gross. How did you get it to stay there?"

"It's in my crayon box."

Ella pictures this and suddenly feels guilty for laughing. The creature will probably die with a bunch of broken crayons. "Tyler, that's going to be messy," she says handing him a napkin. "Like your hands."

"Only it'll smell worse," Jacob says. He shakes his head. "Man, that is gross."

Tyler studies the reactions of his siblings. "Am I in trouble, Ella? Am I?"

"Don't worry about it, sweetie. I'll call your teacher Monday morning." That was all she could think to do.

#

"I mean, yes, it is gross, and ultimately constitutes cruelty to animals, but you have to admit, it's pretty funny," Ella is recounting the frog story for Ambrey over the phone.

Ambrey doesn't seem to be listening. "Anyway, like I was saying..."

Ella sighs and steps out into the hallway outside her room. Tyler's light is on and she can hear the boys playing a video game in his room. Just to be sure they're okay though, she walks to the doorway and peers in. Jacob is watching the television screen intently, his face contorted with concentration.

Ambrey goes on, "The guy I met last weekend, the one I told you about, I forget his name, but he was there tonight. And he was all trying to dance next to me. It was pathetic."

"Billy," Ella says. "His name was Billy."

"Right, right." Ambrey makes a noise that Ella thinks is rather like clucking. "Anyway," Ambrey continues, "did you figure it out about the concert?"

"I'm working on it," Ella says. She steps away from her brother's door and heads back to her own room. "How did you get tickets and backstage passes anyway?"

"I know somebody," Ambrey says. She is always this vague when discussing the people she meets in clubs and at parties.

"You know somebody."

"Yeah."

"You always know somebody, don't you?"

"But of course, darling, but of course."

#

Ella wakes with a start. The time displayed on her clock comes into focus slowly. 3:27. At first she isn't sure what snatched her from her sleep, but then she hears the faint noise. She almost closes her eyes, assuming it's her mother coming in late again, but something changes her mind. Sometimes her door squeaks, so she carefully eases it open. There are lights on somewhere in the house, and Ella moves toward them.

"Jake, what are you doing out of bed?" she asks. He is watching television with the volume low and is eating potato chips from the bag. His blanket is in a pile on the floor. He is on the couch.

"Waiting for Mom," he says. "I haven't seen her for three days."

"Sweetie, you should go back to bed," Ella says, but she doesn't even convince herself.

Jacob doesn't say anything, just watches the screen and eats his chips. Ella can smell them now, sour cream and onion. He isn't going back to bed, not now. She is too sleepy to fight with him, so Ella slides in next to him on the couch and reaches for his bag of junk food.

"Ella, you don't like these," Jacob says.

"Oh, yeah," Ella says. Her eyelids are heavy and her thinking is slow. "What are we watching?"

"The Cosby Show, but you can change it if you want."

"No, that's okay. Whatever you want. I just want to know what made you decide to wait up for Mom."

"I have to tell her something. I should have talked to her when you called, but I didn't and I need to tell her something."

"And it couldn't wait until morning?"

"What if she's not here?"

"It's Pancake Saturday in the morning. She almost never misses Pancake Saturday."

"She did last time, remember?" He looks at her. "And the time before that she ate one bite and then her stupid partner called and she went in her office for the rest of Pancake Saturday."

He is right. The one promise, the one commit she made to spend time with her children is often broken or poorly fulfilled. There is very little certainty with their mother.

Ella stares at Bill Cosby for a few seconds and then asks, "What did you need to tell her?"

Jacob almost sounds hopeful. "That I love her." Ella has felt that too. No matter how angry she has gotten, no matter how neglected she has felt, every once in awhile she has the urge to say those words. The only difference is that she ignores it.

#

Ella wakes up on the couch. Jacob is stretched out on the floor in front of her using his blanket as a pillow. His mouth is open and he is snoring faintly. The television is still on, some cartoon she has never seen. The potato chip bag is turned on its side and two or three chips are on the floor. She squints to see the time on the VCR. 8:12. She never heard her mother come in.

There is movement in the house. Ella follows it to her mother's room and sees Tyler jumping on the bed. "Tyler, be careful," she starts to say, but her mother's voice comes from inside the closet. "Get off Mommy's bed, Ty. You might hurt yourself."

Tyler jumps off and lands on his feet with a thud on the hardwood floor. "Can we have blueberry, Mom?" he asks. "And walnuts. And lots of syrup."

Their mother sees Ella. "Where is Jacob?" she asks. "Is he up?"

Ella doesn't want to be angry at her mother, but she can't help herself. I should be nice for Tyler's sake, she thinks, but her words still come out clipped. "He's on the living room floor. I can't believe you didn't see him."

"Run and wake him up, will you?" The woman waves her hand as she says this.

"I think maybe you should." Ella presses her lips together, to control herself. "Since he waited up for you and all, I mean."

"Did he?" She sounds both charmed and a bit annoyed and Ella resents it. All of it.

"Well, I suppose I should wake him myself then." It is too late though. Jacob joins them in the bedroom, rubbing his eyes.

"Mom?" he asks, blinking hard. "Mom!" He throws his arms up and she lifts him into her embrace, although he is too big for this.

"I saw that you waited up for me," she says, "but I just couldn't wake you up. You were sleeping too peacefully."

That is all Ella can stand. She goes back to her room and dresses quickly. Ambrey is not answering her phone yet, but Ella will try again from the car. She wishes she didn't have to pass the kitchen on her way out the door.

"Where are you going, Annabella?" her mother asks. She and the boys are pulling ingredients from the shelves and the refridgerator.

"I promised to meet Ambrey this morning. I thought you could handle the pancakes." The lie feels strange in Ella's mouth, but she can't say the truth, not with her brothers right there.

"I may need your help a little later. I would prefer it if you stayed." This is from a woman who is used to getting what she wants.

It is very satisfying to Ella when she says, "I'm sorry, but I like to keep my promises."

In the car, even Jonathan Lewis' voice can't make Ella feel better. She dials Ambrey's number again and this time gets an answer. Her very groggy best friend says, "Hello?"

"Coffee at Raye's in ten minutes?" Ella asks.

There is a pause.

"Fifteen."

#

Raye's is a small place. There are only three or four tables and they are never all full, but the place has been there for as long as Ella can remember and there seems to be no danger of it going out of business. She can recall the first time she came into the cafe and how awkward she felt ordering coffee for the first time. Sometimes there are college students in the cafe, discussing books and classes and ideas and theories, and sometimes artsy people come in with their music or their paints, but on this Saturday morning, Ella and Ambrey are alone.

They order two cups of black coffee and doctor them themselves while they discuss Ella's mother.

"Isn't that more or less how it always is?" Ambrey puts six packets of sugar in her cup of coffee and three creams. "I mean, she's never exactly there."

"I wish you could have seen him. He was up in the middle of the night just to tell her he loves her and she can't even be bothered to wake him up off the living room floor." Ella takes a long drink, enjoying the burning all through her chest. "I'm just so tired of it," she says. "I want to give up on her."

"But you can't give up on them. You're too good."

"Good people don't think the kinds of things I'm thinking about her right now."

Ambrey smiles. "New subject," she says. "You start."

Ella blows on her coffee and thinks. "Billy, the dancer?"

"Gave him my number. Baby Brooke?"

"Doing better. The new receptionist job?"

"Not paying enough. That male nurse from the seventh floor?"

"Married. Your parents' anniversary?"

"The Bahamas. Lewis' new album?"

"Worth the money. Tangible evidence of concerts tickets and/or backstage passes?"

"Not yet, but soon. Feel better?"

"A little. What now?"

"I'm glad. Want to go shopping?"

"Sure. For what?"

"The perfect ensemble for when you meet your future husband, of course."

Ella rolls her eyes and grins. They are very different, but Ambrey can always make Ella laugh.

#

"You should wear as little clothes as you possibly can," Ambrey says.

"Right," Ella says, drawing out the word. "Everyone should meet someone they deeply respect looking like a skank."

"Well, what then? I know, you could wear a nun's habit and keep your face covered."

"Is there no middle ground?"

"Sure there is," Ambrey says, "but it's no fun."

"What's fun about being mistaken for a hooker?" Ella wants to know. She has never understood women dressing scantily for attention.

"Never mind, Ella," Ambrey says. "How about that sweater?" She points to a deep green top. "It'd look good with khaki pants. And bring out the color of your eyes."

"Seriously?"

"Ella, you'll be beautiful. Try it on."

Ella does, and is in love.

"How could he not notice you in this?" Ambrey asks, admiring her friend's reflection in the mirror.

To Ella, that's not as important as how good she feels about looking nice.

#

It has been two weeks.

The frog situation is handled with very little fuss by a janitor at the school. Ella sends Tyler to school with a can of air freshener as a peace offering for his teacher and he enjoys a small amount of fame among his classmates because it is his desk the frog is in.

Ambrey's source comes through on not only the concert tickets and backstage passes, but also a free dinner. Ella wonders if this person is an admirer of her friend, but she doesn't ask too many questions. This person is her new hero. She is afraid it is all a dream.

The play that Jacob and Tyler are in, the one that complicates Ella's plans, moves as scheduled toward opening night. It is some kind of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory rip off. Ella feels that this is a poor choice for an elementary school play for no other reason than the ridiculous amount of candy her brothers must ingest. They don't mind that though and their excitement grows every day. Tyler has started asking her at least once a day how much longer he must want for the day of the play. Jacob has started asking their mother at least once a day if she promises to come. Ella thinks she could never forgive her mother if she doesn't show up.

It is Saturday afternoon. The play is next Wednesday. The concert is next Wednesday. Ella's heart pounds in her chest every time she thinks about it. Uncertainty frightens her and nothing in her life right now is more uncertain than Wednesday.

Ambrey, as always, is unconcerned. She says, "The real question here is: Willy Wonka or Jonathan Lewis?" She is laying on Ella's bed, her long dark hair hanging over the edge messily.

"Are you serious?" Ella asks. This is a stupid question. "The real real question is: My brothers or Jonathan Lewis?"

"Ah, your hero or those whose hero you are?"

Ella finds truth in the statement, but it still makes her slightly uncomfortable. "Really, there's not a question about whether or not I'll go to the play. I'm going."

"What has been keeping you up at night is wondering if you'll still get to go to the show." Ambrey passes the analysis to her friend as if it were a simple statement of fact.

Ella breathes the word, "Yeah."

"Don't sweat it, Ella. It'll be okay. It will work out." Ambrey is not always this optimistic. She says this for Ella's peace of mind.

"I hate having things in my life depend on my mother. She is just so..."

"Undependable."

"Exactly."

#

Tuesday is the day before Wednesday. This is a commonly known truth, yet it feels like news to Ella. Never before has she paid so close attention to a Wednesday. She is distracted except when she is concentrating intensely. Her mind is wondering when Marcie calls to her. It takes more than three times to get the girl's attention.

"Ella? Ella. Ella!" The older woman is patient, but hurried. "Ella?"

"Oh," Ella says, spinning around to face her supervisor. "I'm so sorry, I didn't hear you."

The woman's face is neither hard nor soft. "I need you to go downstairs to Mr. Kelley's room. He asked for you."

Ella is surprised. "He's still here? I thought for sure he had been sent home."

"Yes, well, his doctors thought otherwise. Please go see him before you leave this afternoon."

"Right away," she says. The change of pace is blissful to Ella.

Mr. Kelley is waiting for her. He looks much the same as he did before and Ella thinks it is rude to ask what has happened. He doesn't offer an explanation.

"You wanted to see me?" Ella asks brightly.

"Yes. A lonely old man likes to see a pretty young face every once in a while. It's refreshing."

Ella smiles and blushes. "Can I get you anything? Something to make you more comfortable?"

"Smuggle me in a couple of Snickers bars and a T-bone steak," he says, with a deep, warm chuckle.

"Something that won't make your doctors hate me?"

"I reckon they'd want me to say an apple and a skinless piece of baked chicken. Right?"

"That sounds like something I could get away with," Ella says. She is now sitting in the chair beside the bed. "Really though? Is there anything you need?"

"Just some company," he says. "Watch TV with me." The command sounds more like a plea for attention. Ella thinks about his family's energy being spent by the crisis with Brooke.

"That I can do," she says. He likes hour-long police dramas. NYPD Blue, several different Law & Order's, Dragnet and Rockford Files are all playing in reruns at the same time. He is watching Dragnet and it is more than halfway over.

They are silent watching the show, but being together is enough to alleviate the old man's loneliness. At the same time, Ella finds relief from her worrying. When the show ends, Ella stands.

"I've got to get back to my babies, but it was fun hanging out with you."

"Hanging out." His forehead scrunches up as he thinks about this. "My grandchildren say that."

"I guess it's our generation," Ella offers.

"Thank you for coming. Please do it again."

"I will, and you get better."

"Oh, hush," he says, "I'll dance at your wedding."

#

It is late. Ella put her brothers to bed hours ago and she herself has been sleeping for some time. There is someone shaking her. "What is it?" she asks without opening her eyes. The voice surprises her.

"Annabella? Are you awake?"

"Mom, what are you doing?" Ella sits up and squints into the darkness.

"Ella, I don't think I'll be able to make it to the play tomorrow night."

The clock glares 2:49. It is really tonight, she thinks. The full implication of her mother's statement does not hit Ella. "So?" she says.

"So, tell your brothers for me. Take care of it, please?"

"No."

The simplicity of this refusal surprises Ella's mother. She gasps. "What do you mean? I said please."

"I said no." Ella lays back down and closes her eyes. As far as she's concerned, the conversation is over.

"Well, just who do you think is going to explain it when I can't make it?"

"You are," Ella says. Her voice is partially muffled by a pillow or a blanket. She can't see the defeated stance her mother has taken.

Her mother wants to say something, wants to argue or insist, but she doesn't. She has never had to with Ella and the newness throws her off. She leaves.

#

"It's today!" Tyler says when Ella comes into the kitchen. He is standing up by the table, spooning some brightly colored cereal into his mouth. "It's today!" he says again.

"She knows," Jacob says.

"I do know," Ella says. "Sit down with that, please."

"What time does it start?" Tyler asks.

"Seven," Ella says.

"How long until then?"

"Twelve hours." The longest twelve hours ever, Ella thinks.

"How long is that?"

"Tell you what. You'll go to school, like normal. Then you'll come home and do homework and we'll have something to eat. Then, we'll go back to the school and it'll be time for the play."

Tyler thinks about this and the kitchen is silent except for the coffee maker and cereal crunching in little mouths.

Jacob speaks. "Ella Bella, Mom's still going, right?"

She had hoped he wouldn't ask. She is now hoping he won't see that she is more tense since he said that. "I don't know, Jake. She would tell you if something changed her plans, I'm sure."

Jacob is not sure, but is satisfied with his sister's logic. If she believes, he can believe. Unfortunately, she doesn't really believe anything her mother promises.

The day is a blur. Time seems to move both excruciatingly slow and exceedingly fast. Before she knows it, Ella is off of work. She is going home. She is helping her brothers with spelling and math. She is making ham and cheese sandwiches and lemonade. She is washing them up. She is loading them into her car. She is driving to the school.

The auditorium is half full of parents, teachers, and students. Ella scans the crowd, but doesn't expect to see her mother. That would be entirely too easy. She finds a seat near the front, close to the wall, and waits. If her mother does not show up, she cannot go to the concert. She knows better than to rely on her mother for this sort of thing, but she has no choice. And it is killing her.

Ambrey comes in at five til seven. "No Mommy?" she says, with a half smile.

Ella doesn't respond. Her stomach is in knots. Her head is throbbing. Ambrey pats her back in an attempt at comforting her, but the attempt is futile.

The show starts. Ella checks her watch every few minutes. This is unfair, she thinks. She should be able to watch and enjoy the performance she has put so much stock into. When the time on her watch reads 7:42, Ella gives up. She resigns herself to not going with Ambrey to the show. "I hope you have fun," she whispers.

"You mean you hope we have fun," Ambrey says. She will not give in to the gloom. Not yet.

"What do you think? She'll walk in right now? Come on."

Ambrey turns and looks back at the faces behind them in the auditorium. Her breath catches in her throat and Ella looks at her quizzically. "What's wrong?"

"El, look." She points to the back, by the door.

Ella's breath catches in her throat too. The word she utters in nearly inaudible. "Mom."

"You were great!" their mother tells her boys, catching them in her arms.

"You were here the whole time?" Ella doesn't know how to believe it.

"I couldn't find you," she says.

Ambrey pulls on Ella's arm. "I'm sorry, guys," she says, "but I've got to steal your big sis away."

They could hardly care.

#

This is not the first concert Ella has been to. She has been to three others. However, this is her first Jonathan Lewis show and her stomach is beginning to knot. Mostly, though, she just feels good. They stand outside the venue at the end of a dwindling line. Most people are already inside listening to the opening act or someone's favorite CD over the PA system. There is the booming of bass coming from inside, but Ella can't make out any voices.

There is a security guard passing metal detector wands over each person as they enter the building. Ella doesn't have anything on her except her driver's license and a note pad in her back pocket. She is holding a pen in her hands, clicking the push-top nervously. A younger girl, maybe sixteen, eyes her with contempt. Ella notices the girl's generous application of makeup and her outfit, which less than generously covers the girl's body. She thinks that if the girl averaged the two, she might be okay.

Ella looks down at her own outfit. In the green sweater and khaki pants, she is stunning. But she doesn't know this. She feels, rather, overdressed. Her hair is frizzing a little in the humidity, and she wishes for nothing more than to be inside, in the air conditioning. When they do make it in, the rush of cold air is exhilarating.

"You do have the tickets, right?" Ella asks Ambrey nervously. There are people taking tickets right inside the first door.

"Yeah, chill out. They're right here." Ambrey pulls them out of her purse and hands one to Ella. Ella looks at it, but not closely. She is too wound up to inspect anything.

She is thinking about visibility. Ella is of above average height. She stands a full head above petite Ambrey. There are many times when such height is advantageous. The crowded public venue presents one of such situations. Even if they are far removed from the stage, she will have a decent view.

"Where are the seats?" Ella asks. "Do you know?"

"Front row, baby," Ambrey says.

"Yeah, right." Ella doesn't believe this. Ambrey sources are good, but this good? No chance.

"Whatever. You sit where you want to, but I'm parking in the front row." Ambrey laughs before she continues. "I'll let you know later whether Lewis ate a lollipop before the show or not because I'm going to be so close I'll be able to see what color his tongue is."

"You're serious?"

"As a heart attack."

Ella has always hated that expression, but ignores it. In fact, it does not even register to her. She is speechless. She is stunned. She is in awe. She follows Ambrey to their seats. They are in the front row, just to the right of the center. Ella sits down and puts her hands in her lap. She wishes she had something to do. If her fingers were wrapped up in some knitting or something, she might not be as jittery.

"What times is it?" she asks Ambrey.

Ambrey just smiles. "It's about that time."

"What time?" Ella asks. She is in no frame of mind for such playing.

"That time," Ambrey says. Her eyes go to a darkened corner of the stage. She points it out to Ella.

At first, Ella can't see anything. But slowly her eyes adjust and she sees a tall, lanky figure jumping up and down. The figure is just off the stage on the left side. Arms are flying around and the jumping becomes tighter and more rapid. It seems to be born of nervous tension and excitement. There is a definite intensity to it. The figure is Jonathan Lewis.

Ella can't breathe.

#

It is over so quickly. Ella's face hurts from smiling. But she can't stop. This is the happiest she's been in a long time. She and Ambrey are in an empty hallway with several other people. They are waiting to meet Jonathan Lewis, but it is taking so long. Each second drags on for an eternity. Ella's stomach is fluttering. She is more nervous than she ever remembers being before.

A girl is standing behind them. She looks to be around fourteen or fifteen. Ella looks at her and thinks she is so, so young. Her t-shirt is a homemade tribute to Jonathan Lewis, made with puff paints and plastic jewels. Ella can't read it without staring, so she doesn't try to. Her glances back attract the girl's attention though.

"Did you listen to him on the radio this morning?" she asks timidly. "It was a great interview."

"No," Ella says gently. This girl is her as a teenager. "I couldn't. I was at work. We can't play the radio."

"Where do you work?" the girl asks.

"The hospital. Washington Memorial. Neonatal nurse."

"Cool," the girl says. "I stayed home from school to listen to it and get ready for tonight."

Ella smiles; she is unsure of what to say. Ambrey, who has been watching and listening to this exchange, speaks up. "Some of us have lives," she says disdainfully. She gestures at the homemade t-shirt and the gift bag in the girl's hand.

"Ambrey!" Ella is angry. She scowls at her friend. Her face softens for the young girl. "She's sorry," Ella says.

Ambrey can't stop herself. "Ha!"

"Well, if not sorry, incredibly rude. I'm embarrassed." Ella smiles, trying to cheer the girl up.

The girl nods her head. She won't be as open now. Not after Ambrey's acidic words. It doesn't matter though. The small group is escorted to a room with a dingy couch and a small refrigerator. They are told to wait and Mr. Lewis will be with them shortly. Ella wonders what he is doing. She doesn't even have a vague idea of what one in his position would be doing, but the thought keeps her from dwelling on the absurd reality of her situation.

They weren't lying when they said it would be a short wait. He comes in sooner than Ella would have expected. Ambrey has a strange smile on her face and Ella is afraid that she'll further embarrass the girl they met. It is worse though. Ambrey embarrasses herself. And her best friend.

Only Ambrey doesn't care. She isn't embarrassed when she says, "Great show, James. You were really hot." She thinks of this as a thinly veiled come-on. It is only designed to get attention. It gets worse. "Could you sign my bra strap?"

Ella feels her face flush. I could have come with any other person, she thinks, why'd I choose Ambrey? Then she remembers that she owes the whole evening to Ambrey in the first place. She wonders if it is worth this.

Jonathan Lewis hears this fairly often. His fanbase includes a number of young women, some of whom are shamelessly forward. He shakes his head and pretends not to have heard her. He speaks to Ella, who has turned her face away. "Thank you for coming," he says. His speaking voice is much less forceful than his singing voice. Ella is surprised by it and turns to look at him. She is also surprised at her composure, surprised that she doesn't dissolve just being this close to him. "Did you have a good time?" he asks.

Ella's response is not immediate, but it is heartfelt. "Yes, it was..." She wants the right word. "It was incredible. Thank you for doing 'Give Up'."

"Oh, you're welcome," he says. He extends a hand to her and she takes it. "That's one of my favorites to play."

As Ella releases his hand, and he hers, she notices its warmth and size. She has not held a hand like that in a very long time. "I'll be right back," he says in a hushed, hurried voice before moving to where the girl from earlier is waiting patiently. Ella watches him with her.

Ambrey says, "That loser ignored me. You ready to go?"

Ella barely hears her though. She is noticing the smile and embrace and gracious acceptance of gifts going on a few feet away from her.

"Ella!" Ambrey says. "I'm leaving. Come on."

Ella wants to stay. But she wants a ride home more.