Clydie threw on a pair of jeans and a tee shirt and pulled her hair back into a bun using one of her mom's plastic claws and then exited the bathroom, finding Julian sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for her.

"Your mama came to tell you that breakfast is ready," he announced, a heavy grimace on his face.

Ugh. French toast. The mere thought made her blood run cold.

Julian rose to his feet, picking up the fisherman's sweater lying on the bed beside him. "Do you want to go out and grab a bite? You shouldn't have to deal with all this and go hungry at the same time."

"I don't think I can eat anything right now," she denied the offer as he draped the sweater around her shoulders.

"Well, I'm definitely taking you out for lunch. You can't go without eating," was Julian's firm edict.

Clydie slid her arms into the sweater, breathing in the scent that seemed permanently embedded in the weave. She could find no reason to argue against having lunch with Julian Donovan. "That would be nice, thank you."

"Welp, let's sally forth, then," Julian said, smiling down at her as he offered her his arm.

She found herself rather liking the way that small smile completely changed Julian's stoic, brooding features, transforming them into something...brooding and yet quite appealing. She took hold of his arm and as he began leading her from the room, she noted that he'd moved all the boxes back into the middle of the room for her. She had absolutely no idea of the purpose behind blocking her door, but before she went to bed, those boxes were going to be unpacked and taken out of her room.

Down in the kitchen, they found everyone seated around the table, the three men all picking at their food and Ella happily unaware as she ate her own. "Hey, you two! Grab a plate and load up before it gets cold!"

Clydie could taste the bitterness...and an added fishy quality...of the meal on the back of her tongue as she breathed and judging by the slightly charred pile of incredibly dry looking bread heaped onto a plate, she knew she was making the right choice by skipping breakfast.

"I'm not very hungry this morning. I think I'll go on and get started on the parlor," she said, heading to the fridge for a bottle of water and willfully ignoring the slightly betrayed expression on Matt's face as she passed by the table.

She felt sorry for the guy, but when it came to Ella Weston's cooking, it was every man and woman for themselves.

Taking a couple of bottles from the fridge, she quickly rejoined Julian and handed him one, for whatever reason flushing as he again lifted the corner of his mouth in a smile. And she instantly felt like a boob for blushing like a shy school girl. She hadn't been out in the world much over the past two year, true, but before that she'd had her fair share of interactions with members of the opposite sex. And not once had she blushed!

"So, I see you softened my daughter up a bit, Julian," Ella said, sounding pleased as punch.

"Yes, ma'am. I reckon I've thawed her out a measure," Julian replied, his crooked grin giving way to such a genuine, full smile that it actually threw her for a second.

A heavy sigh suddenly filled the room, drawing Clydie's attention over to her dad and their eyes locked. For an incredibly long moment, he regarded her with his expression held taught, his eyes hard and cold and angry. But, then he seemed to just...crumple. All the anger drained out of his face and he was left looking resigned and almost...lonesome?

"So, maybe I can talk shop with you sometime, Julian," he said, sliding his gaze over to Julian. "I hear you're a tech geek, too?"

There was a brief instant when it seemed that Julian wasn't going to reply to Frank and Clydie whipped her gaze up to him, opening her mouth to tell him to get out of the house and not bother with coming back, but she saw him unclench and give his head a fervent nod.

"Absolutely. Mrs. Weston told me about your work. I have some new software I'm trying to de-bug. I'd love some input."

Frank's eyes began to visibly spark with a bit of life. "I'd be happy to try and help. I have a few programs of my own that can de-bug just about anything."

"Great. Just let me know when you're free and we'll crack open a couple of beers and see what we can get into," Julian said amicably.

Clydie tried not smile. A couple of IT guys, one of whom abstained from drinking, probably couldn't get into very much.

"I'm off for a couple of weeks, so I'm free whenever you are! Just let me know when!" Frank said, his enthusiasm such that he forgot what he was doing and took a huge forkful of French toast.

As soon as it hit his tongue, his face twisted up and he instantly spat it back out...and then just as swiftly realized what he'd done. A wave of absolute stark terror rolled across his features and in a moment of panic, and in an obviously desperate attempt to cover his tracks, he drew in a loud breath and began coughing as though he'd sucked something the size of an SUV down his throat

It seemed a bit excessive, but Ella, oblivious to her husband's subterfuge, clearly believed that he was near strangling to death, and quickly got to her feet, moving to stand behind him, forcing him to lift his arms up while she whacked him on the back with enough force to loosen his perfectly functioning lungs.

And Clydie took that as her opportunity to escape, feeling a stab of guilt for leaving Matt to sit there and pretend to eat, but she chose to save herself. And she could assuage her guilt later by buying him something edible for lunch.

Making a speedy exit from the kitchen, with Julian right on her heels, she led the way into the front parlor. They'd gotten quite a bit of work done in there the day before, but there was still a lot to do. The former owners had apparently used the room as a catch-all and it was packed with enough rubbish to fill up half the house. She and Julian had carted out at least six boxes of old newspapers and magazines, several broken lamps, a few kitchen chairs, and a couple of broken end tables, and even though the pile beside the house was growing, the mess in the parlor didn't really seem to be shrinking.

As they stepped into the room, which she could have sworn had somehow accumulated more stuff overnight, Julian turned to her. "Why don't you start looking for the rest of your medicines? I'll get started in here."

With a nod, she spun about and made her way across the foyer and over to the staircase, hurrying up to the second floor. The most obvious place to start was in her parent's bathroom, just make sure her mom hadn't already unpacked the stuff, so she took off in the direction of their room, wanting to get in and out while Frank and Ella were both distracted.

Zipping along, she did feel a bit like a thief in the night. She didn't particularly like that feeling, that notion that she was sneaking around behind her parents' back, but she knew it was best to keep them out of it. She knew, without a doubt, that telling them about the sleeping pills would send them into a tizzy. They'd, of course, blame it on her mental state, which meant they'd believe that she was trying to hurt herself. And that would mean a lock down in a sterile psychiatric hospital, where she'd be force fed drugs that she didn't want or need. And if there was any way she could avoid that fate, she would, even if it meant deception in the form of skulking through the house like a cat-burglar, making sure she left no trace of herself behind.

As it happened, her medicines, which she knew had been packed into an enormous black overnight bag, were not in her parents' bathroom, nor their bedroom, which in her mind, took them out of the running, as far as leaving the sleeping pills in her room. If her parents didn't have them, surely they couldn't be using them for any sort of nefarious purpose.

So, for the next few hours, she went between helping out in the front parlor and stealing about the various rooms, trying to rifle through all the boxes without raising suspicion. And that was no easy task because there were a lot of boxes!

Their home back in Summerville had been a four bedroom, three bath, with an office and a den and each of those rooms had been filled with almost twenty five years' worth of stuff. That stuff was now packed into their new house, making searching for any one particular item impossible. Even though Ella had labeled the boxes with the corresponding rooms, the movers hadn't exactly been studious when it came to matching things up. That meant kitchen stuff was in the foyer and living room stuff was in the dining room...which meant that she could feasibly spend the rest of her natural life searching for the blasted overnight bag.

When lunchtime rolled around and the bag still hadn't been unearthed, she decided to call it quits and get her rumbling belly filled. Leaving the small library at the back of the house, she wended her way through the maze of rooms and toward the kitchen, figuring everyone would be in there, since it was the noon hour.

Entering, she found the entire crew gathered there. Julian and Matt were sitting at the table and Frank, Ella, and Mr. Tanner were involved in another discussion about the counter tops, which was apparently a fine sticking point for Ella and her budget.

Seeing her, Julian rose to his feet and strode across the space, meeting her halfway. "Should we head out for a bite?"

She gave nod. "I'm inviting Matt, if you don't mind." And even if you do...

"Sure. He shouldn't have to stay here and suffer," said Julian.

"Mom, I'm going out with Julian for a few minutes. Is it okay if Matt comes?" she called out.

"Sure, hon. Its his lunch break, he can do what he wants," Ella replied, waving a dismissive hand as she stood huddled up with the two men.

"Don't worry about our lunch. We'll feed ourselves," she stated as Matt got to his feet and came over.

"Where are we going?" he asked, his brows drawn together.

"Just to grab some food," she said in a low tone. "We can bring your dad back something so he won't be hungry."

Matt shook his head. "That's alright. Dad brought a cooler with a bunch of food. He's been sneaking out to the truck to eat."

"Smart man," she smiled.

"My ride's outside," Julian proclaimed, holding a hand out to her. "Let's get to gettin'."

Clydie took hold of that hand without giving it too much thought, finding the feel of those large, warm fingers entwining with hers rather reassuring, despite the fact that sharp little shards were skittering through her belly.

Julian led the way out of the house and into the cool afternoon, escorting her to his car, which was some type of sleek, black vintage looking thing that she couldn't have named if she had to.

"Oh my god! You drive that!" Matt exclaimed, clearly excited. "A '70 Plymouth Hemi Cuda! No freakin' way!"

"Way, Matty," Julian replied as he opened the front passenger door for Clydie. "It was my pop's old car. I did her up myself."

"What's under the hood?" wondered Matt as he pulled open the back door.

"A Hemi V8. 420 Horsepower..."

At that point, Clydie stopped listening to the two of them. It might have made her a little too...girl...but, she did not give one single care about engines and transmissions and torque, whatever the hell that was.

Once they were all seated and heading toward town, talk eventually turned away from muscle cars and toward her entrance into the kitchen that morning, which Matt brought up, and she filled him in on what she had awakened to. Hearing that bit of news did not make Matt very happy.

"Clydie! What in hell!" he demanded. "What does that even mean! And tell me you got rid of those pills!"

"I tossed them out the window," Julian put in, his tone hard. "She's searching the house for the rest of them so I can get rid of those, too."

"Good. They can't be used if they're not in the house," was Matt's word.

"That's my thinking," Julian agreed.

"So, we have two different theories about how those pills got into your room. Which one are we going with?" questioned Matt seriously.

"I'd prefer it if we didn't have to go with either, but those pills got into her room somehow. So, my vote is human hands," said Julian, his grip tightening on the wheel.

"Julian, why in hell would one of her own parents do that?" Matt questioned. "My sister was bat shit crazy most of the time, but she wouldn't have hurt her own family for anything. It doesn't seem like Mr. and Mrs. Weston are capable of wanting Clydie to...you know."

"I'm not pushing for Clydie's family to be responsible for this. I'm just sayin'...ghosts don't really have working hands and hands brought those pills into her bedroom."

"Well, my vote is for ghosts. Because I don't believe Clydie's folks would want to lose the only daughter they have left," Matt declared.

"Alright," Julian conceded. "Let's overlook the physical impossibility of that for now and just get into the why of it all. If the people that Clydie is seeing are coming to her for some sort of help, why would they leave sleeping pills by her bed?"

Matt pondered that question for a minute or two. "Maybe they're trying to tell Clydie something by using the pills? We don't know what happened to Jessica Hyatt, but if Shep had something to do with it, and Katie is telling the truth, then drugs probably played a part. Or it could have something to do with the third girl?"

Clydie felt a waft of pride. Matt was reasoning things out far more easily than she was.

Julian seemed to give Matt's theory a fair amount of consideration. "That's a fine notion, Matty. I admit my mind runs more to the probable, every day scenarios, but your way of thinking isn't too shabby."

"Eh, that's how this stuff is supposed to work, isn't it?" was Matt's riposte.

"Says who?" wondered Julian.

"I dunno. They?" hedged Matt.

Julian shot a quick look over his shoulder. "They? Who in the hell are they?"

"You know? They? As in...they say you shouldn't swim for an hour after you eat. They say the number thirteen is unlucky."

"So, you're basing your theory on a shadowy group of people who come up with old wives tales?"

"Why not? Its as good as anything else we have right now," Matt responded.

"Good point."

It was a good point. There weren't that many choices to pick from. Either someone in her household had left those pills by her bed. One or more of the three dead girls had left them by the bed. Or she was crazy enough to have found the overnight bag, left the pills there herself, and then hid the bag again. And it went the same for the stacked boxes. Either she'd done that herself, or the three girls who were tormenting her had done it.

And frankly, all things given, she was rooting for those grasping, clawing images because any other option was just...too much.

Just into town, Julian pulled into the parking lot of a small diner, Mel's, sitting on a little street that ran alongside the harbour. The street was scattered with shops housed in low slung clapboard buildings and the worn, cobblestone sidewalks were dotted with iron lamp posts and a few towering acorn trees that had taken on their mantle of autumn colors.

 They parked a few storefronts down and walked up to the restaurant, pushing in through the glass door and coming up against a wall of voices and kitchen sounds and appetite whetting smells in the form of fry grease and griddled meat.

Julian led them to a table in the corner and as they looked over the plastic covered menus, the waitress appeared. They all ordered cheeseburgers, fries, and sodas and as soon as the food came, Clydie dug in, going at her plate with all the delicacy of a long haul trucker, and she felt no shame. She was hungry and a girl should be able to eat whatever she wanted, however she wanted to eat it, without worrying about anyone judging her.

Matt and Julian were both enjoying their food, as well, and she just had to take a moment to acknowledge the fact that Julian Donovan ate in a way that made her entire body tense up. Just the way the man held his burger in his large hands, the way he chewed and swallowed, was about the most masculine thing she'd ever seen.

A little while into their lunch, she realized that she was actually relaxing and...maybe even enjoying herself. It had been such a long time since she'd been out in a restaurant, doing something as normal as having a burger with friends.

Since they were in public, no one was discussing their little situation, but Julian did keep her busy by asking her all the pertinent questions about herself and he seemed genuinely interested in the answers. And Matt was obviously interested in those answers, too, because his ears were clearly pricked. Somehow, before she knew it, she'd wound up telling him practically everything about herself that was worth knowing, though, admittedly, there wasn't an over abundance of details considering the fact that she'd been a veritable hermit for the last two years.

As the three of them were finishing up their lunch, the bell over the door jangled and two people walked into the diner, catching Clydie's attention. Instantly recognizing that one of the two was Katie Hyatt, she felt dread sweep through her. And when Katie began whispering to the older woman beside her, and pointing toward Matt, Julian, and herself, she felt that it was time to go.

"Are you guys ready?" she asked, pushing her empty plate away.

"If you are," Julian responded.

"I am. I need to get back," she said, getting to her feet, a sense of urgency dancing through her.

"I'll pay the tab," Julian stated, picking up the cheque and pushing his chair back.

Matt stood, too. "I'm gonna hit the head. I'll be right out."

Without waiting, Clydie pointed herself toward the door, bypassing Katie and the older woman as they moved to find a table and keeping her gaze firmly on the ground. The last thing she needed just then was some sort embarrassing public display.

Feeling like a bit of a coward, she hied herself out of the diner and into the crisp afternoon air, pulling in a breath and trying to steady herself. She truly wished that she hadn't opened her mouth to Katie Hyatt. But, damn! She'd needed to know if she was actually seeing the girl's sister or not, just for the sake of her own sanity!

After pausing for only a moment, she started away from the diner. But, she didn't head down the sidewalk toward Julian's car. Instead, she pointed herself forward, across the street and toward the cobblestone sidewalk on the opposite side. The sand lay just below, past a railing and down a flight of stone steps. She wanted to hoof it down those steps and get out onto the shore, but she decided to stay up on the sidewalk so that Matt and Julian could see her once they stepped out of the restaurant.

Even though there was a nominal amount of traffic and noise behind her, there was a still measure of peace that seemed permeate the air. The view of the harbour from this vantage point was just as breathtaking as it was from her own back garden and she took it into herself, admiring the way the grey water stretched out to meet the grey sky, with nothing in between but a few white capped waves that were rolling landward.

Off to the right, a fair few miles down the sand, was the boat harbour and she could see all the dozens and dozens of vessels moored there. Those boats were a nice sight, she supposed, but she much preferred to see the open expanse of water, with nothing to obstruct the beauty and the scope of it all.

Staring out across those heaving leagues of sea, she found herself struck by a waft of sadness because it had taken her nearly twenty years to find Cedar Cove. A part of her wished her parents had decided to make the move years ago. Maybe if they had, Sam wouldn't have had a chance to meet the boy who'd hurt her so deeply. Maybe she wouldn't have had the chance to do...what she'd done.

Maybe the lives of the Weston family could have turned out so very differently.

"You're the girl who's seen my daughter? My Jessica?" a voice from behind her sounded out and Clydie felt her heart leap up into her throat.

For a split second, she thought about shooting forward, down the stone steps, and hitting the beach at a dead run. She didn't want to do this. She didn't want to face this woman, who should be inside the diner with the daughter that she had left. But, she lived in this town now. So, running probably wouldn't do much more than postpone the inevitable.

"Katie told me that you're the one she talked to at the bonfire. Please, if you'll just speak with me for a minute? I just need to know anything you can tell me about Jessica," the voice plead.

Trying to swallow down the lump of fear and dread in her throat, Clydie turned around, finding the tall, thin, woman there, her grey hair pulled back in a severe bun, exposing the hollows beneath her cheeks and dark circles beneath her haunted, beseeching eyes.

What on earth could she say to this pitiable looking woman?

"Please, what can you tell me about my daughter?" she said, taking a step forward. "Where did you see her? When did you see her?"

"I-I haven't seen her, Mrs. Hyatt," she replied, her voice sounding small and unreliable.

"But, you have," Mrs. Hyatt insisted. "And I promise I won't go back to the sheriff, if that's what you're worried about. I'll take whatever you tell me and I'll keep your name out of it. I promise!"

"Mrs. Hyatt, honestly, there's nothing I can tell you. I really don't know—"

"I'm sorry I went to Sheriff Benton! I'm...I shouldn't have handled it that way. I should have came to you myself. But, I won't do it again! Whatever information you have, I'll pretend it had nothing to do with you!" the woman urged, desperation making her voice tremble.

It sounded as though Mrs. Hyatt thought she was negotiating with a kidnapper who was refusing to release her daughter.

"Mrs. Hyatt, I-I didn't tell Sheriff Benton anything because I don't have anything to tell him. I'd never seen your daughter before Katie showed me her picture."  She tried to sound forthright, tried to sound as if she meant her every word because, she did, but her effort was a flat failure.

"But, you knew about the burn on Jessica's arm!" the woman accused, her eyes suddenly flashing a bit of fire. "You couldn't have known about that unless you'd seen her! Please, even if you've seen her just for a minute, even if it was months and months ago, you have to tell me!"

"I wish I could help you, but I have never seen your daughter, Mrs. Hyatt," she re-stated, trying to stay calm because it seemed the woman before her was falling apart.

"Then how did you know about the burn!" the woman demanded, her eyes welling with tears. "Did someone else tell you about it? If that's the case, just give me their name! I'll go to them and I'll leave you alone!"

Clydie didn't know what to say to make this woman believe her. And if she was Mrs. Hyatt, she probably wouldn't believe her, either. It sounded so unbelievable that she would know about a specific mark on Jessica Hyatt's arm, yet claiming that she'd never set eyes on the girls. It didn't make the least bit of sense.

"Please, she's my daughter! She's been missing for a year! I just want to find her!" the woman begged and her agony was enough to take Clydie's breath away.

Oh god. She couldn't tell this woman what she wanted to know. She couldn't tell her that she thought Jessica might be dead...

"You do know something!" the woman half shouted, anger and betrayal rolling across her wrought features. "You have no idea what my family has been through! If you knew, you wouldn't be standing here withholding information from me! You'd be telling me the fucking truth!"

The truth?

There was no truth in this situation. There was only a faded image and her own guess as to why that image was haunting her.

"Are you protecting someone? Is that why you won't help me!" the woman went on, outright yelling now. "Is it some boy? Did a boy do something to my daughter and you're afraid if you tell me, something will happen to him!"

"There's no boy!" she shot back in the same tone the woman was using. "I've only been in town for three days! I don't know anybody here!"

With no warning, Mrs. Hyatt lunged forward, snatching hold of her shoulders and giving her a stout shake. "Then tell me how somebody that's never been in this god-forsaken town could possibly know anything at all about my Jessica! Tell me that!" When she didn't respond, the woman gave her another hard shake nearly doubling her vision. "You will fucking answer me, girl!"

"Let the hell go of her!" a deep voice boomed and an instant later, hands clamped down onto Mrs. Hyatt, jerking her backward through the air so that she let out a startled shriek.

Clydie, standing frozen, abruptly found herself looking at Julian, who was pulling the woman away down the sidewalk. Once there were several feet separating she and Mrs. Hyatt, Julian handed the woman off to Matt, who took hold of her arms, holding her in place there with him.

"Let go of me! She knows where my daughter is!" Mrs. Hyatt screeched, fighting against the hands that were gripping her. "She needs to fucking tell me where I can find Jessica!"

"Mrs. Hyatt, what are you doing! You need to calm the hell down!" Matt commanded as Julian came rushing back to Clydie.

"Clydie, are you okay? Did she hurt you?" he questioned, his gaze raking her up and down, as if searching for any damage that might have been done to her.

She gave her a head a shake, trying to fight back the mist of tears blurring her eyes. "No. She...she didn't hurt me."

She'd only wanted to feel normal for just a little while. And she could even have that much...

Julian pulled her up against his side, wrapping his arm firmly around her. "Let's get you back to the house. I think you've had enough excitement for one day."

"No! She can't leave!" Mrs. Hyatt screamed as Julian started her across the sidewalk. "She knows where to find my daughter!"

Clydie glanced over her shoulder to find Matt struggling to keep his hold on the woman, who seemed to have more arms than she should have and twice the strength.

"Don't respond to her," Julian stated. "There's a lot of attention bein' drawn, and we need to be on our way."

Julian's words prompted her to glance along the street and she noted that people were beginning to step out of a few of the shops close by to see what was happening. And suddenly, she felt that she was slinking away as if she'd done something wrong, as if she had something to hide.

"No! Don't go! Please, tell me where I can find my daughter! Please!" Mrs. Hyatt's anguished voice echoed along the sidewalk, bouncing off the storefronts.

The torment behind those words shot straight through Clydie and she felt herself digging in her heels, stopping Julian from whisking her across the street "She should know!" she croaked out as the woman's pain buffeted her.

Julian tightened his arm around her. "No, Clydie. No! You shouldn't say anything! Speaking on it can only cause you trouble!"

"Julian, I didn't do anything wrong!" she declared, her voice trembling. "And if it was your daughter, wouldn't you want to know?"

"Know what? There's nothin' definitive that you can tell her. I mean, you really don't have any more answers than she does," he tried to reason.

"Let her tell me what she knows! Let go of her and let her talk to me!" Mrs. Hyatt continued to shriek at the top of her lungs.

"Clydie, there's nothing you can say that won't make it seem as if you know more than you actually do! What do you think telling her that you've seen her daughter's ghost will do to her? And what will it do to you, when the sheriff comes calling?"

A wave of misery crashed into her head on and all she could do was...feel defeated.

"It'll be alright," Julian assured as he started her toward the street. "There's nothing to be done for her right now. Just try to put it out of your mind."

That wasn't even a possibility for her. How could she not think about another human being who was living in such misery? How could she not think about it because...misery, she understood.

Julian rushed them across the street and as they hit the sidewalk opposite, he hied them toward his car. Matt caught up with them just as Julian was opening the passenger door for her, having managed to beat Mrs. Hyatt there, though the woman was trying her best to make it to the car before they got away.

Julian, though, managed to start the engine and peel away down the street before she reached them, leaving the woman to stand on the sidewalk, staring after them...and leaving Clydie feeling like a heartless monster for continuing to allow the woman to suffer.

No one spoke as they headed back through the streets and toward home and Clydie found the silence a welcome relief. She had enough going on in her head, so the fewer voices she heard just then, the better she felt she'd be.