Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Chapter 3

   I woke up to the smell of frying bacon, an alien smell that my
sleep-fogged mind took a few seconds to parse.  I sat up.  From my vantage
in bed at one end of the trailer I could see all the way to the other end,
and there in the middle, at the stove, was Tina, fiddling with a skillet on
the stove.  I guess she caught my movement.

   "Good morning, sleepyhead," she chirped.  "I hope grits and bacon and
eggs is good for breakfast."

   "Oops," I said.  "I woke up in the wrong trailer."

   "Whaaaat?" she giggled.

   "Do you know that there's NEVER been a meal cooked in the trailer that I
didn't cook myself?"

   "Then get used to it.  I think I like to cook every now and then."

   "Me too," I said.  "But cooking for one?  Kind of a drag."

   "So is cooking for people who couldn't give a shit," she said.  "But I
thought I'd try with you.  Make up for the breakfast you didn't finish
Saturday.  I saw this stuff in the fridge.  I figured that since you
brought it, it was stuff you like."

   "Well it smells good enough.  Lemme get dressed."

   "I won't peek," she said.

   I slid out of my pajamas and into a clean pair of pants and a pullover
shirt, grabbed a pair of socks and headed toward her.  I noticed the bacon
was cooking to perfection and the grits were happily bubbling on a rear
burner.

   "How do you like your eggs?" she asked.

   "Can you do "over easy"?"

   "Piece of cake," she laughed.  "Grandma showed me.  I practiced."

   Soon we were seated opposite one another in the little dining booth,
eating.

   "So how'd I do?"

   "Very good.  I figured burnt bacon and crunchy eggs."

   "Why?"

   "Because pretty teen girls aren't supposed to know how to cook," I said.

   "I'm NOT pretty," she said.

   "Hah.  I think you are."

   "Thanks," she said.  "You don't have to say that, you know."

   "You're right," I said.  "But it's true, and it should make you happy to
hear somebody say it."

   "Okay.  Thank you."

   "I'm sorry, Tina.  I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.  I just
meant that you ...  Oh, never mind..." Inwardly I kicked myself.  This was
a sticky situation, and I was still trying to figure out how there could be
a good outcome.

   "No, I'm sorry, Alan.  You were just trying to be nice.  I'm not used to
having people be nice, not the last few months."

   "Tina," I said, getting up from my now empty plate and gathering hers,
"if we're going to exist in this trailer, we need to get along."

   "I know," she said.  "But Alan," she continued, "you gotta understand
how it was, living with Mom and a stream of trash she brought home.  I
mean, guys that came home with Mom, they'd hit on me in a second if she
left the room.  They thought if she was easy, then I was easy.  And I'm NOT
easy."

   "I understand, Tina," I said.  "You want coffee?"

   "Yeah.  Lemme watch you make it.  People are particular about their
coffee, so I didn't try." She watched as I threw a little drip pot together
and put water on to boil.

   "You are NOT my maid, Tina."

   "Yeah, yeah..." she said.  "But two people.  Little trailer.  If we
don't share the work..."

   "I know.  Can't leave anything out of place, or it gets cluttered fast."

   "And we're in a tight space, so we need to NOT be sensitive.  You've
known me, what this is the third day?  I am NOT an asshole unless somebody
deserves it.  YOU don't deserve it.  Therefore, please don't consider me to
be an asshole."

   "I'm SORRY!" she said, "I just REACTED, okay?"

   "That's not the point, Tina.  We can make this whole thing work, but WE
need to be nice to one another.  And that means that I don't suspect you of
ulterior motives, and you treat me the same."

   The kettle whistled, thankfully giving me a stopping point.  I poured
the water into the drip pot, took out two mugs, the sugar canister and a
little carton of half and half.  I poured two mugs.  "Fix yours," I said.
"I don't know how you want it."

   "Two spoons of sugar, and cream like you put in yours."

   "How do you know I put cream in my coffee?"

   "Hah.  First, you got it out today, AFTER you brought it with the other
stuff.  So I figured you used it.  Second, you put some in your cup every
time I saw you drink coffee the last two days.  So I trust you to put cream
in my coffee." She did that little smirk thing I'd noticed several times
before.

   With a clinking of spoon against cup, I handed her a mug.  She sipped.
"Perfect!"

   I sat down opposite her again.  "Well, good.  I did something right."

   "Oh, Alan, I don't mean to be like that.  Just..."

   "Just a lot of changes in three days."

   "In nine months," she sighed.  "And things, uh, they looked so bad ...
with Mom."

   "You're past that, Tina.  If we can figure this all out." I sipped my
savory brown liquid, gazing at her face.

   She shook her head, flaring her hair and letting it fall in place.  Her
hand went up and brushed it off her collar.  "Uh, Alan, how ...  I mean, am
I askin' too much to get my hair trimmed?"

   "No.  Is it too long?" It touched her collar.  Auburn, shiny, a little
curl at the ends, it framed her face nicely.

   "Uh, I like it shorter.  Needs an inch or so cut off.  But ...  I ... 
money."

   "Not a problem.  I don't know how you want to do it, but find a place,
and we'll get it done." I drained my mug and got up to start washing
dishes.

   She shoved me out of the way.  "Lemme do that."

   "Okay, boss," I said.  I gathered clothes and started filling the little
washer.  "I'll do the laundry."

   With dishes washed and stacked to dry, and a load of laundry in
mid-cycle, we headed out of the park with the address of the jobsite on the
GPS.  It wasn't too long a drive through the countryside.  I found what I
expected, a site consisting of several acres, cleared from the surrounding
woodlands, a new railroad spur and pipeline going in, and huge amounts of
bare dirt and rock with curiously shaped trenches and holes and interesting
formations of concrete and steel rising out of them.  And a complex of
temporary office trailers.  In one of them was my new office, but today
wasn't the day to look at it.

   "So that's where you work," Tina commented.

   "Yeah.  They all start out as a big mess like that.  In six months we
ought to be ready to make stuff.  Or at least I'll have the electricity
on."

   We drove towards the county seat.  I was looking for the school board
office.  Nine AM.  I guessed that government employees should be at work by
nine.  I punched up the phone number from the search the night before.  I
got a menu.  I navigated until I got a human.  "Hi, I said, "I'm Alan
Addison.  I need to talk to somebody about enrolling a student in your high
school."

   The female voice said, "Yessir.  Let me connect you with Mister
Jenkins."

   Click.  A male voice.  "Dan Jenkins.  Can I help you?"

   "Yessir, Mister Jenkins.  I'm Alan Addison.  I have a student who needs
to enroll.  We just moved here."

   "Easy enough," he said.  "I'll just need the information from her last
school.  You wouldn't happen to have transcripts with you?"

   "Nossir," I said.

   "Didn't figure you did, but I thought I'd ask.  We can get those.  What
grade?"

   "Uh, that's the problem.  Hey.  We're on the road.  Can we come by and
talk to you in person?"

   "Sure," he said.  He gave me the address.  "Just tell the lady at the
front desk that you're here to see me."

   "Looks like we'll see you in twenty minutes or so."

   "Okay, Mister Addison," he said.  "I'll be waiting."

   "So we're going to see him?" Tina asked.  "I'm not dressed."

   "Uh, Miss Tina," I stated, "you're dressed quite nicely." She was. 
Jeans, athletic shoes, a conservative blouse that accented that head of
hair.

   "I get nervous."

   "You have nothing to get nervous about.  We're just trying to get you
back in school.  These are the people that will help us do that." I pulled
into the parking lot and maneuvered the big pickup into a slot and we got
out.

   Walking into the office, we met the receptionist, a nicely dressed black
lady who directed us down the hall after she notified Mr.  Jenkins of our
arrival.  I knocked on the office door and heard a "Come in!" I ushered
Tina in ahead of me.

   "You're Mister Jenkins?" I asked, extending my hand.

   He shook it.  "And you're Alan Addison.  And this is..." he asked,
looking at Tina.

   "This is Tina, uh, Miss Christina Johnson.  She's needing to be in
school."

   "Hello, Miss Tina," he said.  "You folks can sit down."

   We sat.

   "So what's the deal?  You're her, uh ...  relation?"

   "None," I said.  "She's, well, I don't know how to categorize..."

   His eyebrow raised almost imperceptibly.

   "No," I said.  "Not like that.  Like "foster home"."

   "Sir," Tina interrupted, "I have no living relatives who aren't in jail.
Mister Alan has provided me a place to stay and has offered to get me back
in school."

   "Okay," he said.  "We'll leave that as it is.  Mister Addison, what is
your legal relationship?  Guardian?  Something that says you're 'in loco
parentis', legally able to sign for her?  I'm assuming she's still a
minor."

   "Seventeen, sir," said Tina.

   "Uh, yes.  Minor," said Mr.  Jenkins.  "Sir," he said, looking at me,
"I'm afraid that you need something to say that you have legal standing to
make decisions concerning her life."

   "I understand," I said.

   "I DON'T!!!" hissed Tina.  "Two days ago this man saved my life.  From
that, my mom and her boyfriend went to jail.  I don't HAVE anybody else to
make decisions.  He's the one."

   "I'm sorry, Miss Tina," he said.  "But that's what the law says."

   My head was full of spinning gears.  They lined up and clicked.  "Uh,
Mister Jenkins, can I make a cellphone call?  I don't want to be rude."

   "No," he said.  "If we can get this straightened out."

   "Tina," I said.  "Let me have Deputy Hurley's number."

   As she opened her purse I said to Mr.  Jenkins, "This guy might be able
to help us out."

   "Yeah?" he said.  "Then use my phone.  Here!" He turned it around. 
"Punch this button if you want to use speaker.  Dial nine to get an outside
line."

   "Thanks," I said, punching buttons.  I put us on the speaker.

   "I'm really trying to help," he said.

   The phone rang.  I wasn't sure of success on Hurley's office phone, but
we were surprised to hear "Sheriff's office.  Deputy Hurley.  Can I help
you?"

   Here goes nothing, I thought.  "Uh, Deputy Hurley.  Alan Addison.  From
Saturday morning at the diner?"

   "Hello, Mister Addison," He said.  "What can I do for you?" His voice
sounded a tad apprehensive.

   "Uh.  I'm here in Tennessee with Miss Tina and uh, Mister Jenkins of the
school board.  We're trying to get Tina back in high school."

   "Oh, really?" His tone took a definite upward turn.  "That's great!  She
doin' okay?"

   "Yeah, so far."

   "Hi, Deputy Hurley," Tina piped in.

   "Hi, Miss Tina," he said.  "How can I help you?"

   I said, "Mr.  Jenkins here says I ...  we need some sort of legal
document saying that I have some standing to sign for her to get in school.
Can you help us?  I mean, you know the situation and all."

   "I dunno exactly how that's gonna work," he said.  "Tell you what, lemme
call my uncle.  He's the district judge.  He'll know."

   Mr.  Jenkins injected, "How long might that take?"

   Hurley came back, "I'll get off the phone with you and call 'im.  Call
you back in ten minutes.  Gimme a number."

   Jenkins read him off one.

   "I'll call you back in ten minutes, fifteen, tops."

   "Okay, thanks, man!  We appreciate the help."

   "Don't thank me yet," Hurley said.  "I haven't done anything."

   "We trust you," Tina said.

   "'Kay.  Bye, ya'll." Click.

   I looked at Mr.  Jenkins.  "Okay, we're working on it."

   "Saturday?  At the diner?" He looked interested.

   "You want the story?"

   "Sure," he said.

   "You don't mind, do you, Tina?" I asked.

   "Certainly not.  We lived through it."

   So I told the story, aided ably by Tina.  "And," I said, "That's how a
forty year old engineer ended up with a teenaged girl in Tennessee."

   "Okay," he said.  "Let's assume that we get something going that lets
you sign for Miss Tina." He turned to Tina.  "What grade are you in?"

   "I dropped out in the eleventh grade," Tina said.  "I was a 3.8 student.
Then I moved in with Mom when Grandma died.  And I dropped out."

   "Hmmm," he said.  "That changes things a bit."

   "How so?" I asked.

   "We have to do a placement test.  To see where she starts back.  Pretty
standard thing."

   Uh, okay?  When?  Where?"

   "We can do it here.  Uh, tomorrow if you get us something to fix things.
Or later this week."

   I eyeballed the diploma on his wall.  A picture of a happy Jenkins with
a pretty, if somewhat chunky wife and two kids, maybe eight and ten.  And
to go with the conservative haircut, a framed honorable discharge
certificate from the Marines.

   "Marine?" I said.

   "Oh, yeah," he said.  "You?"

   "Army.  Combat engineers."

   "Chopper pilot."

   "Really?!?" I said.  "Gulf War?"

   "Yeah.  You?"

   "Uh-huh.  Blew one of the minefields to cut the army loose into Iraq."

   "Small world, ain't it?  I flew into Kuwait."

   "Hah!" We laughed together.  Tina was alternating her gaze between the
two of us.

   Jenkins saw her expression.  "Sorry, Miss Tina, we're not ignoring you."

   "Oh, don't worry about me, Mister Jenkins.  I'm learning stuff every
day. About him."

   The phone rang.  Jenkins answered, then punched the speaker button. 
"Okay, Deputy, uhhh, Hurley, is it?  We're all here.  So what's the good
news."

   Hurley's voice was tinny on the speaker.  "Hi, folks!  Hizzoner Judge
Hurley, my dear uncle, says that I need for you two to fax me copies of
your drivers' licenses so he can get the paperwork done up properly.  I can
overnight it to you.  You both sign.  Overnight it back.  The judge signs.
And it's back to you.  We can get it done by Friday that way."

   Mr.  Jenkins asked, "So this is a hundred percent?  No questions?"

   "Nope," the tinny voice said.  "Hundred percent."

   "Great," said Mr.  Jenkins.

   "The fax number on your card works?" I asked.

   "No," Hurley said.  "Use this one.  It's the judge's law office.  And
you owe me seventy-five bucks.  Court costs." He gave me a fax number. 
Tina was already pulling out her drivers' license.

   "Tell your uncle that his name goes on the list of good people," Tina
said.

   "Uh, Deputy Hurley, Let me give you an address for the deliveries." I
gave him the RV park.  Made a mental note to make arrangements for them to
watch for me and call when things came in.

   "I'll do that, Miss Tina," Hurley said.  "I'll call 'im back and tell
'im to expect the fax."

   "Hey, Deputy Hurley," I said.

   "Yeah."

   "Can your uncle fax me back a copy of the document.  A draft?  So Mister
Jenkins will have something in his hand pretty quick?"

   "Yeah.  I can do that."

   "Great!  We're gonna fax that stuff right now."

   "'Kay, folks!  Let me know how things go.  Bye!" Click.

   Mr.  Jenkins sat back, bridging his fingers at his chin.  "Well!" he
exclaimed, "That looks pretty good.  Lemme make quick call.  He picked up
the phone.  "Hi, Janie.  Dan Jenkins.  Yeah.  Look, I got a young lady who
needs to do a grade screening for high school.  Uh, yeah.  She dropped out
last year in, uh, Louisiana.  Wants to start here.  We need to determine
grade placement.  Can she ...  Uh, tomorrow?  Yeah.  Wait a sec..." He
looked at us.  "Tomorrow okay?"

   Tina nodded vigorously.  "Yes, fine!" I said.

   He went back to the phone.  "Yeah.  Tomorrow.  Eight-thirty?  Till,
what, lunch-time?  Okay ...  she'll be there.  Uh ...  Christina Johnson.
"'Kay.  Thanks!  Bye!"

   "Okay," he said, turning to us.  "Now, let's get these licenses copied
and faxed." He took them and left, coming back in a few minutes.  He handed
us back our licenses.

   I gave him a business card.  "Cell number and email works.  If you need
anything.  I sure do appreciate your help on all this." I stood up, Tina
rising by my side.

   He handed me his card.  "Same thing goes."

   "Thank you, Mister Jenkins," Tina said.  "I'll be here, what
eight-thirty?  I'll be early.  Okay?"

   He smiled.  "Good.  We're looking forward to having you."

   Tina was a little old to be skipping beside me, but there was a definite
bounce in her step as we left.

   "Are you nervous?  I mean, TESTS!"

   She shook her pretty head.  "Nuh-uh.  I'll do my best.  Things will work
out.  Again."

   "Again?" I questioned.

   "Yeah," she smiled.  "Things seem to have taken a good turn for ME since
Saturday, don'tcha think?"

   "I suppose.  That is, if you can get over your living arrangements."

   "I'm sorry about this morning, Alan.  I'm just, you know..."

   "Don't worry, Tina.  Lots of changes."

   "Uh, AND a period.  And I get a bit edgy.  I'll try to be better."

   "Just be you.  We'll work things out."

   "'Kay, babe," she said.  Giggled.

   And I noted the word "babe".

   We took off in the truck, went to find a good clothing store, and bought
a couple of bathing suits.  I left her to her own devices in choosing, and
her choice was a very conservative one-piece.  I'd imagined a bikini, a not
unpleasant set of images, to be sure, but most disturbing to my efforts at
maintaining an almost fatherly distance.

   That effort put us within hitting distance of lunch.  "Where do we eat?"
questioned Tina.

   "I got an idea," I said.  I whipped out the business card from my shirt
pocket and dialed the number.

   "School board.  Dan Jenkins.  Can I help you?"

   "Dan Jenkins, this is Alan Addison.  We're looking for a decent lunch
meal and thought we'd ask you to come along and show us one.  Meal's on
me."

   Laughter.  "How far out are you?"

   "About five minutes."

   "I'll be standing beside the road with my hungry look..."

   Tina grinned.  "Do you, like, go out of your way to make friends?"

   "Life is a lot better when people are happy to see you.  And the day
goes better when you don't go into it pissed off all the time."

   "Hmmm.  Interesting." She smiled.  "You're really something, you know."

   "Nope, just a plain ol' engineer trying to have a good life in the
middle of all the mess."

   She smiled as we pulled into the parking lot at the school board.  She
waved at Dan Jenkins and he started toward us.  As he approached, she
unbuckled her seatbelt, stowed the console that separated the passenger
side from the driver side of the truck's bench seat, and slid beside me. 
She was buckling herself in the middle as Dan got in to occupy the
passenger side.  Buckled in, we started back out of the lot.

   "So what are you looking for?" He asked.

   "Tina?  Are you hungry for something in particular?"

   "Oh, no," she said.  "Let Mister Jenkins show us."

   "Okay, Dan," I said.  "take us to the showplace dining experience."

   He laughed.  "Uh, well ...  I know a place.  Family style food.  Good
for lunch.  And not expensive.  Turn right at the next light."

   We were early enough to beat the lunch crowd and had a very nice meal
presented to us.

   "So where are you working," his first question came.

   "That new factory going in over east off the main highway?  I'm doing
the electrical."

   "Engineer, again?" He surmised.

   "Yep, still.  I was headed this way and stopped for breakfast.  Tina
told you the story."

   Tina smiled.

   "So where are you living?" he asked.

   I named the RV park.  "For at least the next six months.  Not quite long
enough to be a resident.  Too short to be called transient."

   "Yeah," Dan said.  "I suppose somebody could make a big deal out of your
address being an RV park, but you explained the situation and I'm happy
with it." He turned his attention to Tina as she worked her way through her
meal with surprisingly good manners.  "Miss Tina, not many dropouts go back
to school like you're doing."

   She put her fork down.  "I suppose," she said.  "But I hated to drop
out, Mister Jenkins.  It's just that with my home situation, I was out of
school more than in."

   "Are you thinking of college?" he asked.

   "Yessir," she answered.  "I was, before ...  and now I'm thinking about
it again.  If I have a chance."

   "Good.  I know the guidance counselors at the high school.  Let's see
how the tests go."

   "We'll find out, won't we..." and she smiled enigmatically.

   We continued a pleasant lunchtime conversation and then drove back to
Dan's office and dropped him off.  I expected Tina to slide back over to
the empty passenger seat, but it was almost as if she hesitated before
moving, buckling in, and lowering the console as a barrier between us.  A
sort of pickup truck chastity wall.

   I let the GPS take us to a nearby recreational park on a lake and we
walked around, savoring the afternoon, even though it was a little warm.  I
wiped some sweat from my brow.  Tina saw that.

   "Alan," she said.  "We have brand new swimsuits and I know where there's
a pool.  Good idea?"

   "Great idea!  Let's go."

   We drove back to the RV park.  "I need to stop in at the office and tell
them we're expecting deliveries," I said.

   "Yeah, we are, aren't we?"

   We both got down and walked into the office.  The manager was an older
lady, maybe early sixties, at the counter.  "Hi, again," I said.

   Lillian Graves was her name.  She smiled.  "Oh, yes.  You came in
yesterday.  Uh ...  Alan, isn't it?"

   "Yes, ma'am."

   She looked at Tina.  "And Tina.  What can I do for you folks?"

   "I gave this address for mail.  And tomorrow I'm expecting a Fed-Ex
overnight.  You have my cell number.  Can you call me when it comes in?"

   "Sure," she said.  "Didn't you say you're going to be working around
here?"

   "Yes ma'am," I said.  "That new plastics plant off the main highway."

   "Oh, yes," she said.  "My son in law is going to be there as a
construction foreman."

   "Great!" I said.  "His name?"

   "Rollie Stebbins.  You can't miss him.  He's taller'n you.  'Bout three
hundred pounds.  Beard."

   "I'll look for 'im!  Tina's probably gonna do high school from here. 
Start next week, we're thinking."

   "Oh, that's good.  I can get the bus to stop here to get her in the
mornings."

   Tina looked at me.  "Uh, okay.  That's good.  I was wondering how I was
getting to school."

   "And baby," Lillian said, "you're always welcome to come sit here with
me in the afternoons while he's still at work.  If you don't mind sitting
with us old folks."

   "Oh, no ma'am," she smiled.  "I loved talking with my grandmother."

   I said, "Well, we're gonna go swim for a while."

   "Well, ya'll have fun, then.  I'll watch for your stuff tomorrow," she
said.

   We climbed back into the truck and drove the short distance to the
trailer.  In ten minutes I was wearing a conservative pair of swim trunks
and Tina was in a one-piece suit that clung to sleek curves and bulged out
over set of B-cup breasts.  I tried not to stare.

   "Grab us some towels," she said.

   "Yes ma'am," I said, exaggerating my servitude.

   "Oh, stop that.  You're being a butt..."

   "Walk or ride?" I asked.

   She gaged the distance from the trailer to the pool.  "Uh, with what
we've been eating, I'm thinking that the walk is a good thing."

   "Smart girl," I said.

   We started walking, side by side.  Could've been a dad and his daughter.
Could've.  And as far as I was concerned, that was just about what we were.

   The pool was bigger than I expected.  Certainly not Olympic-sized, but
plenty long enough for laps to be meaningful.  I stripped off my t-shirt
and slipped into the pool, letting the water envelop me, then ducked my
head and started laps in an easy crawl.  And got passed up by a seventeen
year old girl.

   "This isn't the way it's supposed to go," I thought to myself, and I
kicked my effort up from "recreational" level towards "Showoff".  And I
struggled to close the gap.  Kept trying, too, expecting her speed to be a
fluke.  Wasn't a fluke.  Back and forth.  Finally she pulled up on the edge
of the pool and I hit just seconds behind her, and I was breathing pretty
good.

   "Okay," I said, between breaths.  "Now tell me why Miss Tina is whipping
my butt in the pool."

   Giggle.  Then a little snicker.  "High school swim team.  I had
trophies."

   I heaved a cleansing breath.  "Now I remember.  It shows.  Very good."

   She smiled at me, her hair dark with water and plastered against her
head.  "You didn't do bad yourself," she said.  "I could feel you almost
catch me.  You have a better kick off the wall."

   "You beat me.  In a regulation pool, you'd have lapped me in five laps."

   She smiled.  "Nice to know that I have something on you." She ducked
under the water to cool off.  I did the same, then watched her leggy form
exit the pool and settle onto a lounge beside the walk, toweling herself
off.  Her height was from those long legs, not her torso, I observed.

   I got out and sat on the lounge beside her, drying myself off, then
laying back.  I closed my eyes to the late afternoon sun, but not before I
saw her eye me.  She stretched back on her own chair.

   "Mmmmm, this is really great, Alan.  It's so much different than what I
was looking at Friday night.  I think I'm in heaven."

   A gentle zephyr stirred the nearby trees and cooled my damp body. 
"Ahhhh, yes, lady, I think it's great.  Different, but great."

   "Alan," she said, "how do you usually do these jobs?  What do you do? 
Work, I know, but after work?"

   "That's where I part ways with a lot of guys, Tina.  Lots of
construction people party hard.  The bars and clubs around here are going
to make a fortune while this thing is being built.  And there's be a lot of
women chased and a few caught, and all.  But that's not my thing."

   "So what DO you do?"

   "I find the library, or the internet, and if there's some good concerts,
I go to those, and if I find friends that share my desire not to go out
drinking and cavorting then I might spend the evenings with friends."

   "No women?" she asked.

   "Not for the sake of the standard things that men chase women for.  Like
I told you the other day, I don't do casual sex and I am not going to get
serious with somebody who's not on the same wavelength that I am.  There's
too much pain in trying to fit the wrong pieces of a puzzle together."

   "But..."

   "But that's too serious a part of my life to compromise.  Been there. 
It hurts.  So I quit."

   "Uh ...  I guess that's a better approach than Mom's ...  she kept
tryin' and tryin' and then it was just for, I guess, the physical thing ...
and it seemed like a bad way to go through life." She sighed.

   "Some people go their whole lives like that and they don't suffer
consequences, but every one of those one-nighters, or short things, there's
two people involved, and what doesn't bother one can leave a mark on the
other."

   "Yeah," she said.

   "Or you end up with two people who just want to use each other, and ...
I don't know.  I thought I was connected in my marriage, but apparently she
wasn't.  And when it hurt me like that, I decided I never wanted to do that
to another person."

   "Me neither.  I saw Mom and it looked like a train wreck.  People bent
and broken all over the place."

   "Life sucks, sometimes..."

   "But then," she smiled as I looked at her, "there are days like this. 
Look!" She pointed upward to a hawk circling high overhead.  "That's
freedom."

   "Yes it is," I said.  "And he can do that when his belly's full and the
babies are fed.  If he's a good, successful hawk, he gets to circle in the
afternoon skies."

   We chatted for a few more minutes then I watched her form as she did a
little knifing dive off in the deep end of the pool and I did a backflip in
to join her.  This time I knew better than to let her surprise me, but she
still was nothing I could catch.  Finally we got out again and walked back.
Passing a couple of the other trailers, we smiled and greeted the folks as
we walked.

   Inside the trailer, Tina grabbed her night-clothes and hit the shower
first.  "Won't take long.  I just need to rinse," she said.  And true to
her word, she was out and drying her hair.

   I did a similar move, but had a few more minutes scraping the hair off
my face.  A splash of aftershave left my face tingly.  I exited the tiny
bathroom to a sleekly coiffed Tina, eyes blue and twinkling.

   "Gosh, you smell good again," she smiled.

   I sat in my recliner and she lounged on the sofa and we watched TV until
about eight when she picked up her laptop.  "Just want to see if I got any
responses to my email," she said.  Ten minutes later, she turned the
computer off.  "That's that," she said.  "I sent email last night to see
who wanted to keep in touch.  No responses.  I guess those friends gave
up."

   "I'm sorry, Tina."

   "Oh, it's okay, Alan.  You know, this is almost a new life.  I mean, I
had that life with Grandma, then she died, and I had that life with Mom,
and it was horrible, and now that's over, and I have this new life, and
you've been good to me, and I'm gonna go back to school and meet new
friends and start over.  Not many people get to do that."

   "I know." I was parsing the "meet new friends" statement.  I knew that
she was seventeen and the world was there for her and a new high school was
rich ground for relationships and friends and boyfriends and, I hated to
think, prospective mates.  I pushed that out of my mind.  Hard.  "Uh, do
you play cards?" I asked.

   "What kind of cards?  Like rummy?"

   "Yeah.  Can you play rummy?"

   "Grandma and I used to play several times a week.  I like it.  You got
cards?"

   And we sat at the table and played rummy.  And it wasn't easy.  She was
no slouch and we each won a game and I got a lucky draw to beat her on the
tie-breaking third game.  And it was bedtime.

   She made her bed and I retreated to mine and we went to sleep.