They go to Raye's to unwind. There is something about the quiet tranquility of the small cafe that helps them make the transition between the concert's excitement and the peace of sleep. Raye is there. She normally closes at eleven, but, because she likes Ella and Ambrey, she is willing to stay open a bit past that tonight. She makes them cappuccinos, although the caffeine defeats the purpose, and joins them at their table. They are her only customers.

"Wild night?" Raye asks. She is maybe ten years older than they are. She remembers her younger years fondly and often draws comparisons between the girls and herself.

"You could say that," Ambrey says. "Actually, nothing interesting happened."

Ella disagrees with this statement, but doesn't say anything. Nothing can take her smile away. She refuses to get into an argument with Ambrey. She takes a long drink and looks away absently. She is not really there.

"Oh? That's unusual." Raye frequently hears of Ambrey's adventures. She almost always has an exciting story to tell. The relative calmness is unsettling to Raye.

"I only went for Ella," Ambrey says. She is trying to get Ella's attention, trying to get a rise out of her. "We went to the Jonathan Lewis concert. He pretty much sucks."

Even this does not provoke Ella. She does listen to it. She is thinking of the way he spoke to her, the way he handled his other young, adoring fan. She is remembering details of his performance. She knows that soon there will be a post-concert void inside of her. She knows to expect it. But that withdrawal-like state will not set in for hours, maybe even a couple of days. Now, she is still enjoying the night.

Ambrey is jealous.

Ella is joyous.

Raye laughs. She knows what's going on. She's seen it before. "You can't bring some people down," she says to Ambrey.

Ambrey rolls her eyes. "Anyway, what's new with you?" she says to Raye.

"Not a whole lot. I'm more or less just a boring old per--"

The bell on the door jingles and a head ducks in. "Are you open?" the man asks.

Raye thinks about saying no, but she's here so she may as well make some money off of these late visitors. "Yeah, sure, come in." She goes back behind the counter and waits to take the man's order. She is surprised when not one, but about ten people come in. That's is almost more than the cafe can comfortably hold. She wonders if this was a good idea after all.

The line goes all the way to the door.

"Maybe we should go ahead and go," Ella whispers to Ambrey.

Ambrey is watching this group of people though. She isn't going anywhere.

"So, what brings you all here?" Raye asks the man who had stuck his head in the door. He is first in line. She is pouring him a large black coffee, no frills.

"Last time we were in town, we stopped in here and it was great. I'm sorry it's so late, but its a professional hazard with us."

"When was the last time you were in town?" Raye asks.

"I don't know," he says. He looks to some of his friends for help.

"Probably eight or nine months ago," someone from the middle of the line offers.

The first man steps aside and another steps up to the counter. He orders imported espresso. "What do you guys do?" Raye asks him.

His voice is low and his hair flops into his face. "We're musicians with a traveling show," he says. "Sometimes we don't know where we're going to go." He smiles at his rhyme and pays for his drink.

"Okay," Raye draws the word out. Another person steps forward. "What can I get you?"

"Can I get a warm milk?" the man asks. There is laughter on the outskirts of his voice.

Ella's head spins around to look at him. She wonders at this strange request.

"Sure, whatever you want," Raye says. "You want whole, 2%, skim, what?"

"Whole," he says. "One of those tall cups, please." This order is not as unusual as he imagines it to be. After Raye passes him a steaming cup of milk, he turns around.

Ella gasps audibly. The man, who has raised the cup to his lips, stops midstep and nearly spills the hot beverage on himself. He recognizes her, he thinks, because of the deep green of her sweater. "Give Up," he says. He is approaching Ella and Ambrey's table.

"What?" Ambrey spits out.

The man ignores her. He speaks to Ella as he pulls out the chair Raye had been sitting in and eases into it. "You were at the meet and greet. You thanked me for playing 'Give Up' and then as soon as I looked away, you were gone."

Ella isn't sure of what to say. She thinks of saying she's sorry, but it doesn't feel exactly appropriate. She is speechless as she has always feared she would be in this situation.

"Am I right?" he asks. "Maybe not and maybe I'm just a weirdo."

"No, no," Ella says, "it was me. Ambrey was ready to go."

They both look at Ambrey, but she is talking to someone else, oblivious to her name having been mentioned.

"I was hoping you'd stick around," he says. He is blowing on his milk in a way that reminds Ella of Jacob. The stream of air is precise and strong and lasts as long as possible. He has to inhale deeply when he is done. The corners of her mouth turn up.

"What?" he asks.

Ella hadn't meant to smile and is hesitant to tell him what she's thinking. "You just reminded me of someone," she says.

"What'd I do?" He looks down at his chest as if trying to see what she sees.

"No, just the way you were doing that," she motions at his drink. "It was like my brother."

"Is he a cool guy? I don't care as long as he's a cool guy."

Ella smiles more freely this time. "He is very cool. Just sad a lot."

Ella regrets this as soon as she says it, but Jonathan doesn't seem to sense her discomfort. "Well, yeah," he says, "tortured souls are usually cool, in a kind of dark way. It's not exactly what I was going for, but it works."

"You, sitting there with warm milk, are saying dark works for you," Ella is surprised at how easy she is talking to him. "Let me just get you some cookies."

He laughs. Ella notices how soft his voice is, as if he's trying to protect it. "It helps me sleep," he says. "I need something after a show and this is safer than a bottle of Nyquil." Ella watches him drink the milk, watches a tiny moustache form at the corners of his mouth. "You know, now that you mention it, some cookies would be great." He looks back at the display. In the mornings it is full of doughnuts, bagels, cookies and cakes. Now it is empty except for half of an onion bagel and two stale powdered doughnuts.

Ella looks too. "Split the onion bagel with you," she says, smirking.

"I think I'll pass." He glances at the door. "There got to be a convenience store around here, right?"

"Three actually," Ella says. "Just down the street."

"Walk with me," he says.

There is a voice in the back of Ella's head that tells her it is a bad idea. It says that nice girls don't cavort around the city in the middle of the night with rock stars. It says that she doesn't really know him and he could be dangerous. It tries to talk her out of going, but Ella will have none of that. "Sure," she says.

They stand and move toward the door. "Nate!" someone calls. Jonathan spins around. "We're leaving, man, in like two seconds."

"I'll be right back," he says.

"I'm not waiting," the man says.

Jonathan considers this for a second. "Then, I'll catch up with you at the hotel."

"That's Phillip," Jonathan tells Ella as they fall into step on the sidewalk outside. The air is chilled and Ella shoves her hands into her pockets. "He kind of keeps us in line. Like a father when we tour. We call him Tour Daddy behind his back."

Ella looks up at the sky. Jonathan follows her upward gaze. "It's a really beautiful night," she says. There are no clouds obscuring the stars.

"The moon's almost full," he says.

"When I was little, we wished on the full moon," she says. "I wish I had some gloves."

"That doesn't count. That moon isn't full," he says. Then he looks at her and sees her hands in her pockets. "Sorry," he says. "Here, hold this." He gives her his cup. It is still steaming and the warmth is blissful to Ella. "I wish I had some fresh chocolate chips cookies," he says.

"That little store over there usually has fresh baked goods," she points to the farthest store. It is a smaller, family-owned store.

"Good. I'm starving."

"Maybe you should eat some real food." She hears herself. "Sorry, I had a big sister moment."

"How old is your brother?" he asks.

"Jacob, the tortured soul, is eight. Tyler is six."

"Big age difference."

"My mother remarried when I was ten."

"And your dad?" He asks this without thinking.

"I haven't seen him since I was two." Her words are short and sad.

Jonathan wishes he hadn't said it, but presses on, trying to find happier ground. "But your step-dad is around?"

"He passed away two years ago." Ella wishes they hadn't gotten onto this subject. "Cancer," she gives, as an afterthought. She hates that uneasy silence when people are thinking about how tragic her life has been. She wants to tell them to stop thinking that. That her life is no more tragic than the next person's.

They reach the door of the convenience store and go inside. There is no one else in the place, except the cashier. Jonathan follows Ella to the aisle with cookies and the like. She picks up the tightly wrapped homemade chocolate chip cookies. "Here, you want these," she says.

"Thank you." He takes them and his milk.

"He was great," Ella says. Jonathan is digging in his pocket for cash. She goes on, "He didn't treat me weird or different because I wasn't his. As far as he was concerned, I was his."

"I'm sorry," he says. The cashier counts the money and hands him his change. "I'm sorry he died. I'm sorry about your dad. I'm sorry I'm such a moron."

"None of that is your fault." Ella realizes a second too late what she is saying. She laughs. "I mean, about my family. The moron thing is still up in the air."

He punches her arm, but very softly, as if she might break. "Cookie?" he asks. They are outside now, on a bench that faces a busy street. She takes a small piece although she normally wouldn't have.

"What about your family?" she asks. "What's your tragedy?"

"None," he says, with a full mouth. "Two sisters and a brother. A mom and a dad who never divorced." He stops, thinking. "My fish died when I was twelve."

"Ah, true tragedy," she says. It comes out more bitterly than she wants. She presses on. "So, you're the oldest, youngest, what?"

"Youngest." He offers her some of his milk. "Maybe that's why I think I need to be the center of attention."

"You should meet Tyler." They are sitting cross-legged, facing each other, the cookies and milk between them. "His last thing was smacking his forehead. Like, as hard as he could. Then he'd go 'Ouch, that really hurt,' and do it again."

"I did that!" he says. "I did that. When I was little. It's on tape somewhere at my grandmother's house. My mom still tells that story."

"To the people you wish she wouldn't the most."

"Right, like the American press." He grins. This statement reminds Ella of who she's sitting with. This is not just a guy she met when she was out for coffee.

"So," she says, before changing the subject drastically, "do you do this is in every city you stop in? Pick up a girl in a cafe?" She doesn't, however, really feel like she's been picked up.

"This is a first, actually. I've never picked anyone up in a cafe. Bars, maybe, but..." He thinks this is funny, but Ella doesn't react favorably. "Did I pick you up?" he asks. "I think it's pretty innocent. I just wanted some cookies."

"To tell the truth, I wouldn't know." She is looking down, but she isn't embarrassed to say this. "Ambrey, now, she would know. But I'm just a homebody."

"Well, it's not like we really go out after the shows anyway. We mostly go back to the bus or the hotel, or whatever, and hang out. I just remembered this great cafe we found last time we were here and had to take advantage of the chance to go there again."

"And you order warm milk?"

"About halfway here I decided we should have come in the morning, but the guys were set on the idea." Ella was glad for that. Jonathan was too.

"So, Ambrey..."

"Best friend, although sometimes I wonder why."

He has finished the cookies and the milk is cold. "How did you meet?"

"Our last names," she says. His face is blank. She elaborates. "Wells, Welsh, we were always next to each other in school. From lining up for art in Kindergarden to sitting next to each other in A.P. Chemistry."

"Whoa, A.P. Chemistry." He is thoroughly impressed. His mouth is hanging open. "You must be some genius."

"No, just focused. I have never wanted to be anything but a nurse. I took the most efficient path to that goal."

"And Ambrey?"

"Flunked out of the class in the first quarter. She doesn't have the mind for science. Her boyfriend was in the class."

"Ah," he says, knowingly. "So, what's her deal? She's got a bit of an attitude." He doesn't want to offend, so he says it as gently as possible.

Ella's reply shocks him. "She's always like that. She's not happy unless someone else is miserable. It doesn't matter who as long as someone is." She stands up and he follows suit. "Like that girl that gave you the gift bag tonight, the one with the shirt." He nods and they begin to walk back. "Ambrey totally insults her for no apparent reason other than she's bored with waiting."

"And this is your best friend."

"Supposedly." Ella sounds much more angry than she intends to. She laughs weakly. "I love her, I do, but she makes me so mad sometimes. She very well could have ruined the whole night for that girl." Ella gazes at him slyly and says, "Of course the hug you gave her helped, I'm sure."

"I'm sure," he says, with the same amount of laughter in his voice.

"Seriously, though, studies have shown that massage and cuddling help premature babies. So, don't underestimate the power of human touch."

"Let's see," he says. He takes her hand in his and stops walking for a few seconds. "Yep," he declares, "I feel better. You?"

Her heart is pounding. "Sure," she says. He lets go of her hand and they begin walking again.

"So, you're a nurse. You work with babies?" He is putting the pieces together.

"Yes," she says. She is still in wonder over the power of his touch.

"What's that like?" he asks. She looks at him while she is thinking of how to respond.

"Amazing," she says, finally.

He thinks about that. Then he sees the darkness inside of Raye's Cafe.

His mouth emits an expletive that once said, he regrets. "Sorry," he mumbles. They both put their faces to the glass and peer inside the darkened cafe. It is empty. "I can't believe they'd leave without me. Jerks."

Ella turns around and leans back against the window. "I can believe it. Ambrey already threatened to leave me once tonight."

"Does she do this often?"

"She doesn't drive very much. Usually, I'm threatening to leave her."

"But have you ever done it?"

She raises her eyebrows at him. "Never."

He sighs and turns around. They are now facing the same direction. "You don't have a phone, do you?"

She extends her empty hands, palms up. "In Ambrey's car."

He laughs. Ella doesn't find the humor in the situation. He says, "How far away is the Marriott?"

Then, the humor hits her. She begins to giggle uncontrollably. "The Marriott? You're staying at the Marriott?" The hotel is at least fifteen minutes away by car. It would take hours to walk the distance. "That way," she points in the right direction. "If we start walking now, we might make it before the sun comes up." Her face is flushed with the laughter and Jonathan is watching her curiously, a tentative smile playing at his lips.

"Well, what choice do we have?" he asks. Most people could think of several alternatives to making the trip by foot, but he is tired and, if he's really honest with himself, wants to spend more time in this girl's company.

Ella, whose mind is capable of handling Advanced Placement Chemistry, among other things, doesn't offer any alternatives either. She is well aware of the rarity of this situation and she's in no hurry for it to end. Besides, she loves an adventure. "Let's go, then," she says.

"Aye, aye, captain," he says. This is much more fun than he ever expected to have on this particular night. "Lead the way!" He throws an arm in the air and marches for a few steps. Then, he stops, and says, "Sorry. You know, for being stranded in a strange city in the middle of the night, this is a lot of fun."

Ella agrees. "Yeah, definitely. I never in a million years would have expected this to happen." They are walking in the general direction of the Marriott. "I actually expected to miss the concert. I'd be in bed asleep by now."

"Don't mention bed," he says. There is a slight whine in his voice that, had it come from Tyler, would have made Ella cringe. "I am so exhausted, I could lay down right here and go to sleep. Seriously, right here in the street."

"Let's not," Ella says.

"So, what did you have going on that was more important than coming to see my semi-retarded attempts at music?"

"Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory."

That may be the last thing he would have guessed. "The movie?" he asks.

"No, no, no," she says in rapid procession. "Porter Street Elementary Annual PTA play."

"Okay..."

"Jacob--"

"The tortured soul!"

"Yes, he was one of Charlie's friends. And Tyler was an oompa loompa."

Jonathan is impressed by this. He was never in a school play. "Was he orange?"

"Oh, yes. Orange skin and green hair. Everything."

"You didn't skip this to come to the show, did you?" He thinks that would be absurd.

"No," she says. "I left right after it ended."

"Then, why the uncertainty?" She sighs heavily. He senses that he has strayed again onto that unsteady ground he had trampled all over before. "Never mind."

"Nah," she says. "My mom's just weird. Since my step-dad died, she's hard to depend on." This may be the biggest understatement Ella has ever made.

"I think you must be a great sister." He thinks of his own older sisters. "Mine would never come see me in a play, much less change their own plans to accomodate it."

"I'm all they have," she says softly. It is more to herself than to him. She has never actually thought this before.

There is silence, and it is very heavy. Jonathan can't stand it. "I wish I was more like that," he says. "Self-sacrificing."

"What do you mean? You must sacrifice a lot," Ella says, "to do what you do."

"But it's all for my own selfish interests," he says. "It isn't like I'm doing it for anyone other than myself."

"I know millions of people who would beg to differ."

"You know millions of people?" He laughs, breaking the serious mood with a joke. He does this quite often.

"Well, you know what I mean," she says.

"I do," he says. "It's all about perspective."

"Well, I think of what my mother sacrificed for me in the years after my dad left, before she remarried. She had nothing, but I was always well taken care of. I guess that's what keeps me from just cutting it all loose."

"And you love them," he says. The statement is so profound to Ella that it hangs in the air. She will remember this for a very long time. Not just that he gave her insight into her relationship with her family, but also that he was able, after knowing her for a very short period of time, to understand her so well.

"Yes," she says carefully, "I do."

"So, you take care of people you love. That's natural." He is still saying this when he realizes that he is not speaking from personal experience. He has never had to take care of anyone.

Ella seems to sense this. "Who do you take care of?" she asks.

He doesn't say anything. He is not sure how to answer.

She blushes, but it is far too dark for him to see this. "You said that with such authority. And you're absolutely right." They walk on in silence for what feels like a long time. Both of them look down at the sidewalk, hands deep in their pockets. What they're doing looks like a choreographed dance of some kind. Their steps even match.

"Do you really think it'll take us all night to get there?" he asks. He speaks softly.

Ella looks up. Their eyes meet. "Yeah, probably," she says.

"This is stupid," he says. "We should just stop at a pay phone and call a cab."

Ella nods her head in agreement. "Okay," she says. There is a phone across the street in front of a restaurant.

It is not long before the car comes for them. Ella gives the driver her address and leans back in the seat. She is looking out the window, watching her hometown pass by. Jonathan is doing the same, on the other side. He turns to look at her. "You're a better person than I am," he says.

It catches Ella off guard. She turns slowly, saying, "What?"

"You're a better person than I am."

"No, that's not--"

"You are." He turns away briefly and then looks back at her. "I'm glad we met," he says.

"Me too."

They are pulling into Ella's driveway. "We're here," she says. "I could, um, I can give you a ride back."

"No, no," he says slowly, sadly. "I've already got the cab and all."

"Thank you for the ride," she says. "For everything." It is what she has wanted to say all night.

"No," he says. "Thank you."

And that is it. He is gone before she knows it.

#

From the front porch, Ella can see that the only light on inside comes from the television. "No," she whispers to herself. Jacob is on the couch, his blankets thrown aside, an old TV show playing. He is asleep. She puts one hand on his shoulder and his eyes shoot open.

"Ella!" he says. "I was so worried. I thought you'd never come home."

She helps him up. "Come on, buddy, let's go to bed."

He walks in front of her. She carries his blanket and pillows. "Where did you go?" he asks. He is rubbing his eyes.

"To a concert," she says. She wishes she had something better to tell him. "I had a little bit of an emergency. I'm sorry I'm late."

"It's okay," he says. He crawls, on hands and knees, on his bed. "I'm used to waiting up." He says it so matter-of-factly that Ella can't stop herself from hugging him.

"I enjoyed your play," she says as she arranges his blankets over him, tucking him in. "It was the best. You were great."

"Thanks," he says with a yawn. "I wanted to be Charlie, but it's okay."

His eyes are closed and his speech is becoming slurred. He says something else that Ella can't decipher. She kisses his forehead and pats his back a few times. "Love you, Jake," she says.

On the way to her room, Ella thinks about Jonathan's words. 'And you love them,' he had said. That's why she doesn't give up on them. That's why she doesn't leave them to her mother's care. There is no telling what their lives would be like if she did that. That's why she protects them. "I love them," she says into her dark, empty room.

#

The next morning, life goes on exactly as it should. Ella wakes up with her alarm, after only a few short hours of sleep. She gets ready for work and goes into the kitchen where Jacob and Tyler are eating breakfast. She puts on coffee and thinks about making toast.

"Ella, you were late," Tyler says. This morning he is eating oatmeal that Ella knows he didn't make for himself. Jacob must have made it. "You didn't say 'good night' to me."

"I'm sorry, Ty," she says. "I'll say it twice tonight."

He laughs. "That's silly." He is thinking while he takes a bite of oatmeal. "You should say it three times," he says. He thinks this is very clever, so Ella laughs.

"You okay, Jacob?" she asks. Her brother is not a big talker, but he has not said anything to her all morning.

He nods. "I'm not hungry," he says. He gets up from the table and goes to his room. Ella is full of guilt. She follows him.

"What is it?" she asks. "What's wrong?"

There are tears in his eyes, but he won't openly cry. Not now. "I just..." he trails off.

Ella pulls him into a hug. "What?" she whispers.

"I don't want you to be like Mom."

Ella gasps. "I'm not, Jake. I promise I'm not."

"Never do that again," he says.

"I won't." She is determined.

#

Ella is late for work. This is a rare occurance for her. She is normally very punctual, but it has been a long morning. She feels rushed and, even to everyone else, she seems tired. "Marcie's looking for you," someone says. Ella is not sure who. This is all she needs this morning.

"You needed to see me?" Ella asks. She is in the doorway of Marcie's office.

"Ella, come in." For all of her responsibilities, Marcie always looks very calm. Ella steps in and sits on the edge of a chair, facing her boss. "You certainly are popular this morning," Marcie says. "Five phone calls before you even arrive. Need I remind you to keep personal calls to a minimum?"

Ella is embarrassed. "I'm very sorry," she says. She takes the sticky note Marcie holds out to her.

"Yes," Marcie says. "Let's get all that taken care of."

Ella slips out as quickly as she can. The list is enumerated. She glances at it before she sits down by the phone in the lounge.

1. Cheryl
2. Phillip
3. Phillip
4. Cheryl
5. Tour Daddy

There are numbers taken beside these names in very precise writing. Ella recognizes the number for her mother's office by Cheryl's name. The other number is foreign to her. She thinks she should know that name, Phillip, but she can't remember. Then, she gets it. Phillip and Tour Daddy are the same person. She is intrigued, but calls her mother first.

Cheryl answers. "Johnson, Clay, and Roberts. How can I help you?"

"It's Annabella. You called me twice?"

"Yes, Annabella! I was calling to let you know that I have you scheduled for an appointment with your mother at three."

"That's not good for me. Remind her that someone has to watch her sons." The presumtuousness stuns Ella.

"That's taken care of," Cheryl says. "She expects to see you at three." There is a pause that is designed to be too short for Ella to protest. "You take care now." She hangs up.

Ella is furious. She punches in the other number. A man's voice answers with a breathless, "Hello?"

"Hi, this is Ella Welsh. You tried to get in touch with me three times this morning?"

"Oh, yeah," he says. "I did. The baby nurse, right?"

Ella is thoroughly confused. "Yes... You're Phillip?"

"Yeah," he says. "Nate wanted me to find you."

It takes her a second, but Ella knows he means Jonathan Lewis. "It's weird that you call him Nate," she says.

"Why? What do you call him?"

She thinks. "Nothing really," she says. "What did you need?"

"I'm not sure, actually. He just wanted me to find you, like I said."

"Well, you found me. Now what?"

"Listen, we are so busy right now. Can I get back with you at the same number?"

"No!" she says a little too forcefully. "Let me give you my cell phone number."

"You can have a cell phone in the hospital?"

"No, but I can't have personal calls either unless it's an emergency. I've exceeded my limit today."

"Sorry if I got you in trouble," he says. "Let me get that number."

#

Ella spends the rest of the morning thinking about this. By lunchtime, she is itching to talk to Jonathan, but she will settle for Phillip. She can hardly keep herself from running down to her car where she can check her voice mail and call back. There are no messages waiting for her. She debates whether or not to call the number Phillip left and decided to chance it.

"Hello?" a different voice answers.

"Hi, I was calling for Phillip. He left me this number?" she says.

"Phillip!" the voice calls. The phone is handed over. "Hello, this is Phillip."

"Hey, it's Ella again. Sorry to bother you, but I'm at lunch. Is it a good time?"

"Yeah, hold on." He covers the mouthpiece and there is the muffled sound of people of talking. Ella is growing more and more anxious.

"Ella?" It is Jonathan's voice. Ella is pleased. "That's a beautiful name," he says. "Why did that never come up?"

"I don't know," she says.

"I hope you don't think this is too weird," he says. "I feel kind of creepy tracking you down like this."

"No, it's okay." She is smiling. "Only because it's you though. Anyone else and it'd be creepy."

He is smiling too. "I couldn't leave without finding out who you are. I just wanted to talk to you again."

"Well, you are very resourceful. But I thought you said you called Phillip 'Tour Daddy' behind his back."

"We do, why?"

"He identified himself that way when he called here earlier."

Jonathan laughs out loud. "Whoops." His laughter trails off. "Well, I thought we were careful about it. Anyway. I want to see you," he says. "Wow, that was smooth, right? No transition, just come right out and say it. Can I see you today?"

Ella takes a deep breath.

"That's a no," Jonathan says.

"I just have an appointment right after work. You'll probably leave before I'm free."

"When will you be free?"

"I'm not sure. How about if I call you?"

"Sure. We're not leaving until late tonight. Let's have dinner or something."

Ella thinks of her brothers. She cannot disappoint Jacob again. "Yeah, we can talk about it later."

"Fair enough," he says.

#

Ella hates her mother's office. It symbolizes everything that is wrong with their family. She walks through the halls quickly and with her head down. She only wants to get this over with. She hasn't seen or spoken to her mother since the play, but it feels like it has been much longer. She thinks about this when she is sitting in the plush chair directly in front of her mother's desk. She is waiting. She always has to wait.

"Annabella," the woman says finally. "This is about last night."

"What about it?"

She sighs as if it is hard for her to say what she must say. "It was really unacceptable for you to stay out all night."

"Unacceptable?" Ella wants to scream. She wants to say, "It's unacceptable for you to do it too, but you do it every night." She wants to storm out.

Her mother continues. "Maybe you should start thinking about getting your own place."

Ella almost laughs. There is so much anger inside of her and yet she can barely keep from laughing out loud at her mother. In a very even, controlled voice, she says, "Really? But then who would take care of yours?" She lets that hang in the air briefly before going on. "Face it. Without me your whole life would fall apart."

Her mother sighs. "We'll discuss this later," she says. "I have a meeting in five minutes."

Ella stands up. "Well, yes, naturally."

"What is that supposed to mean?" her mother demands.

"Nothing," Ella mutters. "You said it, we'll discuss this later."

She is barely out the door before her cell phone is in her hand. She dials the house. Tyler answers. "Ella, where are you? This is weird."

"I had to talk to Mom. Who's with you?"

"Jennifer," he says.

The name is unfamiliar to Ella. "Let me talk to her, please."

The girl sounds young. She must be a teenager. "Hello?" she says.

Ella wastes no time with formalities. "How long did she hire you for?"

"W- What?" The intensity of Ella's words stun her.

"My mother. How long did she hire you for? How long are you supposed to stay?"

"A few hours, I guess. She didn't really say." The girl is afraid, nervous.

"Let me talk to my brother," Ella says. "Put Jacob on."

Jennifer does as she's told. Jacob takes the phone. "Ella? Where are you? What's going on?"

She wishes she could tell him. If he were older, she would tell him what has happened. "I had something I had to do for Mom," she says. "Listen, I'll be home in a few hours. Make sure Tyler does his homework and help Jennifer, or whatever her name is, find something to make for you to eat. Can you help me out, Jake?"

"Of course," he says, and Ella wishes she could hug him. "Be safe, Ella."

"I promise," she says. "I love you."

#

Ella is in her car. She is on her way to the Marriott. It crosses her mind that she should call first, but she can't make herself do it. Inside the hotel, from the lobby, she calls. Jonathan answers. "Come to the lobby," she says.

"What? Who? Ella, is that you?"

"Yes, come to the lobby."

"What? Here?" He is lost. He had been playing checkers with a crew member and thinking about ordering a pizza.

"Yes," she says.

Something in her voice makes him worry. He excuses himself from the game and goes as quickly as he can downstairs. He sees her standing there alone. She looks shaken. She looks upset. He goes to her. His mouth opens, but before he can say anything, she leans into him and his arms instinctively encircle her. They stand that way for several long minutes. People are staring, but neither of them notice. It is as if they have an unspoken understanding of each other. He understands that she needs to be held. She understands that he is willing to hold her.

When they do pull apart, his arm slips around her shoulder. "What's wrong?" he asks.

She is silent, but not because she wants to be. She wishes she could tell him everything. But there are too many words, too many things running through her mind. She just shakes her head.

"Come on," he says. "Let's go upstairs."

Ella just nods and lets him lead her toward the elevator. They are the only ones who get on. The ride is silent. Ella is still leaning against Jonathan. She cannot support herself right now. "I'm sorry," she says. It is a whisper. "I should have called you. I'm so sorry." She is about to lose it.

"No," he says, matching her volume. "Don't be sorry. Never be sorry for this."

She stops trying to control her emotions and lets go of the tears. "Thank you," she says.

"What's your mom like?" Ella asks. She is stretched out on her stomach on one of the double beds. Jonathan is standing by the window. The curtains are pulled back. He is looking down. This is the first thing Ella has said since they got here.

"Like?" he asks. "What do you mean?"

"What's she like? If you had to describe her." Her head is resting on the bed. She is mentally and emotionally drained. If she were to be still for long enough, she'd fall asleep.

Jonathan thinks about his mother. He decides on several adjectives. "She's bookish," he says. "Smart and quiet." He is silent again as more words come to him. "She isn't timid though. Just careful with words. They're very important to her."

"Like you," Ella says. The connection is clear to her, but Jonathan has never thought of it quite like that before.

"I suppose," he says. "She was a librarian. They made her Head Librarian, but after a few years, she resigned. Said there was too much politics. She just wanted to be around books. She wanted to help people appreciate them."

"What does she do now?" Ella asks.

"Bakes," he says. "And spoils my nieces and nephews. And reads a lot of books. She sends me packages with brownies and pictures and the best new books she's read."

"When was the last time you had a fight with her?"

Jonathan watches Ella for a moment. He is beginning to understand what has happened. But it is only a beginning. "I don't remember," he says. "We don't really fight." She doesn't speak again right away. He goes to a corner where some of his things are piled up. "Actually," he says, "I have some stuff here."

"What stuff?"

He produces a cardboard box that has come through the mail. She sits up and takes it into her lap. He sits next to her and shows her his things. "This is pumpkin bread," he says, taking out a small Tupperware container. He opens it and offers her a little cube of the bread. She raises her eyebrows. He explains, "So it lasts longer. I only eat one piece a day."

"It's delicious," she says. She tries to remember the last time her mother baked anything.

He moves on to an envelope with pictures inside of it. "Here," he says. "This is my whole family." He is serious. In one photo, there is a very large group of people, including young children and two older people, who are sitting in the middle. The woman is holding a sign that says, 'We miss you!' He points each person out to her, giving their names and relationships to him.

"Big family," she says. He lets her look through the rest of the pictures. All are of these same people, in different combinations, doing different things. "Is this your parent's house?" she asks.

"Yeah," he says. "I grew up there."

She studies each picture more carefully, trying to get a feeling of where he came from. When she finishes, she looks into the box and sees four paperback books. They look new except for slight cracks in their spines and a bit of wear around the edges. Someone read these books before passing them on. Jonathan sees her examining them. "She only sends me the best ones," he says. "She makes sure I have something good to read at all times."

Attentive, Ella thinks. His mother is so attentive. She would bet that he has never felt less than loved by his mother. She would be right. Ella says, "Your mom is so cool. I wish I could meet her. Maybe she could give me some good books and the recipe for that bread."

"I don't know," he says with a knowing smile. "She's pretty secretive with her recipes."

It hits Ella, how much he is sharing with her. By all rights, he should guard this information. He shouldn't trust someone he hardly knows with the details of his mother's personality. But he does trust her. She needs to show him that she trusts him too. She needs to share her family with him. "You want to meet my brothers?" she asks.

"What? Now?" He is thinking about what Phillip would say. They are supposed to leave before long. He has a show to perform the following day in a city several hundreds of miles away. "Of course I do."

Ella nearly leaps off of the bed. "Let's go," she says. "You wanna grab something to eat on the way? I'm thinking pizza."

"You read my mind."

#

They walk into Ella's house each carrying a pizza. Ella's is cheese. Jonathan's is supreme. He is taking in the details of her house much the same way she did of his. "You never told me," he says. "What's your mom like?"

Ella says, "Not like yours." This is all she says.

Jonathan might have pressed farther, but Tyler and Jacob come barrelling into the kitchen. "Pizza!" Tyler shouts. This is much more important to him than the stranger who is holding one of these pizzas. Jacob is more reserved.

"Ella, who's this?" he asks. He is standing close to her and whispering. He could be described as shy, but that isn't exactly accurate. He is cautious. He is curious. He doesn't trust strangers.

"Guys, this is my friend Jonathan," she says. She glances up and sees a girl standing back, in the doorway. "Jennifer?" she asks. "You can go now. Thank you." That is all she sees of the baby-sitter.

"Cool," Tyler says. "Can we have pizza now?"

Jonathan laughs. "Do you like nothing or everything on your pizza?"

"Everything!" Tyler shouts.

"Me too," Jonathan says. "Let's split this one."

Tyler laughs. "Can I really eat a whole half?" he asks in a hushed tone. It is as though he and Jonathan are conspiring against Ella's authority.

"Sure," Jonathan whispers. "You can try." He knows the boy will give up when he gets full. He has three nephews about this age.

Jacob is still standing close to Ella. "Did you get plain cheese?" he asks. He will pick the cheese off. He likes nothing on his pizza. It should be only bread and sauce.

The four of them sit down at the table. Tyler asks, "How come we had a baby-sitter, Ella? It is 'cause of Jonathan." He has a little trouble with the name.

"No, Ty, I had to do something for Mom." Her eyes meet Jonathan's. She realizes that he still doesn't know what happened. She makes a mental note to stop being so reserved with him. She will tell him later. Now, she asks, "How was your afternoon without me?"

"Boring," Jacob says.

"Yeah," Tyler adds, "Jennifer was boring." He sticks his tongue. Jonathan laughs, so he does it again. And again.

"Mine was just miserable without you," Ella says. It is only a small stretch of the truth. "Let's never do that again," she says.

"Tell her what Miss Gray said," Tyler says to Jacob. Miss Gray is their principal.

"She said our play was so good that whoever was in it gets to have a party. She said we were in the newspaper today. She said it was the best play the school has had." Jacob beams and that alone is enough to make Ella's heart glad.

"Yeah," Tyler says. "The best ever."

"You guys are lucky," Jonathan says. "I want to be in a play."

"You're too big," Tyler tells him. "Only up to fifth grade can be in it."

"How come we've never met you before?" Jacob asks. This is the first time he speaks to Jonathan. He still doesn't know whether or not to trust him.

"We haven't been friends very long," Jonathan says, "your sister and I."

Jacob seems to be satisfied with that. He has to know more though. "Ella's a nurse. Are you a doctor?"

Jonathan smiles. "I wish I was that smart," he says. "I'm just a musician."

"Then where did you meet? At the hospital?"

Ella tenses up. Her brothers do not know about the concert she went to. Jonathan is good though. "No," he says, "we had coffee together. Well, I had milk and she had coffee. And we started talking."

Jacob likes this answer. He too prefers milk to coffee. He asks no further questions. Jonathan is approved.

They do not talk for several minutes. When Jonathan's phone rings, it seems much louder than it normally would. "Excuse me," he says. He steps outside to answer.

"Where are you?" Phillip demands. "We are leaving in less than one hour and you are nowhere to be found."

"Whoa, calm down. I'm with Ella."

Phillip feels out of control. It is not something he tolerates very well. "Get here now."

Back inside, Jonathan tells them, "I have to get going." Ella looks up at him with sad eyes. "I'm going out of town. Maybe I could get your address and write you." He says it as much to her brothers as to Ella herself.

"Seven thirty-eight, White Fox Drive," Tyler recites loudly. He is proud of himself for remembering.

"Let me write it down for you," Ella says.

Before the hour is up, he is gone. That emptiness that Ella expected to fill her once the concert was over finally catches up to her. It is exponentially greater than any post-concert emptiness she has ever experienced. She goes into her room and lays on the bed. She stares up at the ceiling and wonders if she'll ever see him again. She wants to believe that she will. She wants the hope to fill up her inner void. But her doubts are too heavy and too abundant. She cannot drive them away. She fears they will suffocate her. All she can hear is his voice in her head. Even with her eyes open, she can see his face. It is as if he has left part of himself behind with her. She thinks about this.

This is funny because he thinks about this too. Only he is certain he has left something behind.

#

Ella cannot sleep. She is laying on her bed. The light is on, but she knows that isn't really a factor in her sleeplessness. She thinks about reading, but nothing on her bookcase appeals to her. She thinks about turning on the radio, but the silence is somehow comforting. Her mind is not racing. It moves slowly from this to that, but the theme of her thoughts remains the same.

Jonathan Lewis.

She repeats the name to herself until it is meaningless. She hears his voice in her head. She thinks about what he doing, who he is with, where he is. She thinks about his mother's bread, his siblings' children, his box of books. She wants to call him, but won't. She wants to see him, but can't. She would be miserable and crazy with the overabundance of thoughts, but there is something pleasant about them. She almost has herself convinced he is thinking of her too.

#

In the morning, Ella starts to make her usual pot of coffee, but stops. She doesn't need it. She has hardly slept, but is not tired. Her brothers eat breakfast in near silence. Ella makes herself two slices of toast and pours a tall glass of milk. She eats only one half of one piece of toast. She cannot drink the milk. Jacob notices this, but does not say anything.

It is Friday morning.

Usually when Ella gets to work, she makes coffee in the lounge for whoever wants it. She is early this morning, to make up for her tardiness yesterday. She blames her forgetting to make the coffee on this change in her routine. She is about to go into the nursery when someone calls her name.

She turns around quickly, imagining it will be like a scene from a movie and he will be there to see her with outstretched arms.

It is one of the doctors. He is very tall and has white hair. Dr. Postonati. Dr. Pasta Knotty. Dr. Post-it Note. Ella laughs on the inside.

"Ella," he says. His voice is deep and rough. "They are looking for you at the main desk."

When one steps off of the elevator onto the neonatal floor, the first thing one sees is the main desk. Ella considers for a moment ignoring what he has said. But she takes a deep breath and walks toward the main desk. Her eyes stay on the tiles on the floor. She walks more slowly than normal.

When she reaches the desk, a woman is standing there. She is wearing a brown uniform. She is holding a bouquet of flowers. Yellow tulips. "Ella Welsh?" she asks.

"Yes..." Ella says it slowly, uncertainly.

"Delivery," the woman says. She thrusts the bouquet into Ella's arms. "Have a nice day." She is gone before Ella can process all of this.

Ella takes the flowers to the lounge and sets them on the table. She sits down and looks at them for a long time. Someone comes in. "What? No coffee?"

"I'm sorry," Ella says. She doesn't take her eyes off of the flowers.

"Nice," the person says. "Boyfriend?"

Ella mumbles something incoherent. She does not even know what she is trying to say. Then, thinking about this, she realizes that she doesn't know who the flowers are from. They could be from a family member, a friend, a patient. But she doesn't think so. She looks for a card.

"For Ella," the card says, in small hand-written block letters. "Thinking of you this morning. Jonathan." Nothing has ever made Ella feel the way she feels now. She is smiling as much as she would if he were physically standing next to her.

"I've never seen you like this," the person says. "Like sunshine."

Ella likes that.

#

Ambrey calls as Ella is getting into her car. They haven't spoken since Wednesday night at Raye's. Ella should be mad, but it doesn't occur to her to be. She has the tulips in her arms when the phone rings. She hopes it is Jonathan, but is not disappointed to hear Ambrey's voice on the line.

"Hello?" Ella answers.

"Hey, girl," Ambrey says. "What's up?"

Ella has so many new things to say. She feels like she should tell Ambrey everything that has happened. But doesn't want to share them. Not with Ambrey, who never sees the same person twice, who never has anything nice to say about the people she dates. Ambrey wouldn't understand, not fully, not the way Ella wants to be understood.

"Nothing much," Ella says.

"Listen, I'm sorry about the other night. About leaving you there." She says it as if she thinks she has to more than as if she really means it. "I went out with one of those musician guys and he didn't want to wait around."

Ella doesn't care, but she doesn't want to say that, not that bluntly. "It's okay," she says. "Don't worry about it."

"So, I guess you got home okay."

"Yeah, how was your night?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Ambrey says. Ella thinks this is typical of her friend. Ella is not sure what to say now. Ambrey solves that problem. "So, that's all I wanted. To say I'm sorry for leaving you."

#

"Ella, are you sick?" It is the first thing Jacob says to her when he sees her.

"No, why?" She wonders exactly what the opposite of sick is and thinks she must be this.

"You didn't eat breakfast. You didn't talk this morning. You brought home flowers. That's what happens when people are sick."

"They bring home flowers?" she is trying to follow his reasoning. The other things she can understand, but the flowers thing throws her off.

"When someone's sick, people send flowers." He makes a good argument. "So, are you? Sick?"

"No," she says. She almost says that she was sick, but now she feels better. But heartsickness is not something she wants to discuss with her little brother. He could understand the concept, sure, but she doesn't want to bring him down. He is in an exceptional mood.

"Then, where'd you get the flowers?" he asks.

"My friend," she says. "Remember, you met him yesterday."

"Jonathan," Jacob says. His memory is excellent.

"He was tall," Tyler chimes in. "Like a giant."

"Is he coming over again?" Jacob is worried. He doesn't fully comprehend this matter, but somewhere deep in his mind, he is afraid something or someone will take Ella away from him.

"No, he doesn't live around here," she says. "He probably won't ever come over again." Even as she says it, she hopes it isn't true.

"Where does he live?" Jacob asks. He also has a mind for details.

"New York, I think."

"You don't know?" Jacob asks. He is trying to discredit their friendship, but he doesn't realize it.

At the same time, Tyler asks, "What's that?"

Ella chooses to answer Tyler. "It's a big, big city."

"Can we go there?" Tyler asks. He is always eager to go and do things.

"We could," Ella says.

"It's too dangerous," Jacob says. "We should stay here. Bad things happen in New York City."

Ella wonders where he heard this. It surprises her to hear him say these things, although it shouldn't. "We aren't going to New York," she says. She wants to get them off of the subject. Inspiration. "We are going to the park. If you want to." As if they would ever pass that opportunity by.

The park is not far from their house. It is not the nicest park they could go to, but it is not bad. There are swings and slides, monkey bars and merry-go-rounds. There are also benches where Ella can sit and watch her brothers play. She wants to be able to think. She wants to be alone with her thoughts. But she still brings her phone. She has hope.

As if he knows this, as if they are somehow connected in thought, Jonathan calls Ella.

Her "Hello?" is rushed and excited, dripping with anticipation. She doesn't even stop to wonder, what if it's not him?

"Ella?" he asks, revealing himself.

"Yes," she says. "Thank you for the flowers." It comes out quickly, before she can stop it. She wishes she had worked it into the conversation, but the openness and honesty please Jonathan.

"You're welcome," he says. He is beaming. "So, what are you doing?"

"Sitting at the park," she says.

"Lucky."

"What are you doing?"

"Until I called you, I was doing absolutely nothing."

"I find that hard to believe," she says.

"Believe it. I mean, I was obviously breathing and stuff like that, but my mind was just wandering kind of aimlessly. And it wandered right into, 'You should call Ella.' So, that's what I'm doing right now."

"No kidding," she says laughing. "Tell me more about this conversation you were having with yourself. Is this something you do often?"

"Oh, yeah, totally. It was like, 'You should call Ella.' Then, 'Yeah, you should definitely do that.' Of course, then it was like, 'I have to find her number.' And 'I think I left them in my other pants.' So, after I went to get the number, I was debating with myself about what you'd be doing and whether or not I'd be interrupting anything."

"So, this phone call was planned out pretty carefully." This amuses and delights Ella.

"You have no idea. It was planned out ad nauseum. It was planned out to the point where I felt robotic at first." He pauses. "Is that weird?"

Ella actually considers this. "No," she says, "not really. I think everyone has an idea of what they're going to say and stuff when they call someone."

"But does everyone talk themselves into it and then through it?"

"Maybe not."

"So, I am a big freak. I always thought that. No one wants to tell you when you're a freak, but you, you are an honest person. You will tell me that I am a big freak."

"You are not a big freak."

"Really? You promise?"

"I promise."

"Okay, like I said, you're honest, I can trust you."

Ella wonders how he is so sure. She is slow to trust people, slow to come to these kinds of conclusions. "Trust?" she asks. "How do you know?"

"You want to know how I know I can trust you? Like, what really convinces me that you are trustworthy?"

"Yes," she says. It is almost as if they are playing a game. She is dying to hear what he will say next. "Tell me," she says.

"You know how we were talking the night we met? When people want you to feel sorry for them, they exaggerate and make things out to be worse than they are. And when you get on some subject that is supposed to make you pity them, they don't want to get off of that subject. Like they stay on it as long as they can and then whenever they get the chance, they go back to it in the conversation."

Ella is following so far.

He continues, "You didn't do that. I wasn't careful and I got us onto this subject that was hard for you, but you didn't make a big deal out of it. You just told me the truth with an economy of words and we moved on. If you were a liar and someone who liked to manipulate people, you would have gone on and on about your dad and your stepdad. And then when you were so upset and you came to the hotel. You didn't even tell me what was going on. And it was enough that I knew you were hurt. It's none of my business what's going on in your family or whatever, unless you want it to be my business." He pauses, thinking it through, trying to word things carefully. "People who lie either want you to think things are better than they are or worse than they are. You just told me how they really are."

"You've really thought this through," Ella says. "I'm sorry you've had to have the experiences that would bring you to these conclusions."

"Totally not your fault."

"You know, I was going to tell you what was going on the other day. I mean, I think you deserve an explanation. But now it seems a little inappropriate."

"See how terrible I am? I shouldn't be allowed to talk. Every chance I get, I put my foot right in my mouth. Sometimes both feet."

"Don't worry about it. We'll talk about it some other time."

"New topic, right?" he says. "What are you doing tonight?"

"Same thing I do every night," she says. "When it gets dark, I'll take my brothers home, make them take baths, and put them in bed. Then, I'll crash. I think I'll just sleep through this weekend. I'm that tired."

"I wish I could do that," he says. The idea is appealing.

"Why can't you?" she asks, without much thought. "What are you doing tonight?"

"In a couple of hours, I'm playing a show--

"Oh, right!" she interjects. "Who's terrible now?"

"Well, that's what makes being terrible bearable. We have each other."

"That sounded like a song lyric," Ella says. "You should write that down."

"You're right. I should." He repeats the lines to himself in an undertone. "It was, 'That's what makes being terrible bearable.' What?"

"Then you said, 'We have each other.' Right?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he says. He scribbles the words on the back of a bag that once held cheeseburgers and french fries. "Thanks," he says when he's finished. "I owe you one for helping me catch that."

"Just thank me in the linear notes when that song gets put on an album."

"I'll name the song after you," he says. "Like The Rolling Stones or Kiss."

"Angie?" she asks. "And Beth, right?"

"Someone likes classic rock." He is impressed. "Only mine will be 'Ella' and it won't be a sad song." Maybe it will though. He thinks about being away from her and he knows that the situation won't get less sad.

"What are you doing after the show?" she asks. "Going out for hot milk?" It goes back to when she asked him if he always picked up girls after his shows.

"Going to curl up in front of the DVD player, probably," he says. "I'm going to try to get some sleep. We don't get a day off this time."

Ella can't help but ask. "How much longer is the tour?"

Jonathan sighs and works it out in his head. "Three, four weeks," he says. He wishes he could say that the days he mentioned were the last. "We have a few shows in Europe at the end of next month and that'll be it for a little while."

"Then what?" Ella is curious about the process. She hopes he doesn't think she's digging into his life too much.

"Whatever," he says. That's good enough for her. But he goes a step farther. "I'll probably go home and record my next hit single, 'Ella.' Maybe you've heard of it."

"Yeah, I just love those songs that haven't been written yet. They are my favorite."

"You're actually more right than you think. It sounds funny, but there's something about that potential and the anticipation, even, of writing the song that can make it a favorite, if only for a short while."

Ella says, "I wish I was creative."

Jonathan says, "I wish I was caring."

"But you are," Ella says.

"Like you are creative. I'm sorry, but a noncreative person would not have said, 'That sounds like a lyric, write it down.' So, no arguments."

"Fine, but a noncaring person would not have sent flowers." She can think of so many other caring things he's done in the short time she's known him, but this comes to mind first.

"Did you really like them?" he asks.

"No," she says, "I loved them. They made my day. And if making someone's day isn't caring, I don't know what is."

Both of their arguments hang in the air for a moment.

"You're a cool girl," he says finally. "Is it okay if I call you again?"

Her reply is brief and soft, but she means it passionately. "Yeah."