I tried to carefully tug the bandages I had applied earlier, but some of the cloth stuck to the flesh. While I had dealt with removing bandages before, I still couldn't help but apologize as fresh blood oozed from the wounds I had just removed a bandage from. Sometimes there was just no going around hurting someone to help them. Not that knowing it made things easier.

After I quietly apologised for the fourth time, he smiled slightly and tipped my chin up to meet his gaze. "No worry, lass. I've been hurt much worse and by people much less pretty."

My cheeks immediately felt like they were on fire. He thought I was pretty. I wasn't so sure why that mattered so much or why it affected me so. Had I been with Lottie she would have endlessly teased me on the matter. Not wanting him to notice my blushing, I looked down at the boiled garlic decoction and prepared it to wash his wound.

He leaned forward and the quilt slipped from around him and I immediately knew what he had meant by his statement. Whether he had meant his words to sound flirtatious, he was being truthful, matter-of-fact. He had been hurt terribly. That much was clear.

His back was covered in scars. No, covered wasn't a good enough description. His back was almost entirely made up of scars. White and pink lines crisscrossed each other in a way human skin shouldn't look. I had only seen scarring this bad come from machinery injuries. I found myself reaching out to touch the scars, but I stopped myself. I sucked in a breath as I furrowed my brow in anger. Machinery couldn't have caused this. This had likely been caused by someone. It was barbaric - the fact that another human could inflict this kind of damage upon another.

"Randall," Jamie said after he noticed I had been staring, which made me blush again. "Flogged me twice in the space of a week. He'd ha' done it twice in the same day, I expect, were he not afraid of killing me. No joy in flogging a dead man." He paused for a moment before adding, "If he could do tha' to me, I can only imagine what he could do to a pretty lassie like ye."

I pursed my lips and nodded. I made eye contact with him as I pressed the garlic against his wound. "I should have kicked him harder then. Or given him several more kicks while he was down. Perhaps a good stomp too."

Jamie let out a strangled laugh.

My lips pursed again as I began to tend to the wound, but something was gnawing at the back of my mind. He seemed amiable enough, so I took a chance that he might speak honestly with me. If he proved not to be agreeable, I would shut my mouth and continue cleaning his wound in silence. I cleared my throat. "I don't know what you supposedly did, but nothing, nothing deserves such brutality. But I must confess myself curious - why were you flogged?"

Jamie seemed to inhale sharply. While I couldn't be certain whether it was my words or my ministrations on his shoulder that caused it, I still scrambled to correct myself to make him understand my curiosity. Growing up, people would always tell my father my curiosity would get me into trouble.

I nervously tucked a strand of hair behind my ear before I explained further. "Although, if you aren't comfortable sharing with me, a complete stranger, I'll respect that and won't be offended. I don't mean to pry any old wounds open, I'm genuinely curious." I looked at him and offered him a small smile. "It's probably one of my greatest faults, or so I've been told."

My self-depreciation seemed to work some. His expression softened. He made eye contact with me before he slowly nodded his head in understanding. "The first time was escape, and the second was theft - or at least that's what the charge sheet read."

I nodded my head and continued to care for his wounds. Clearly, he didn't agree with the second charge. From my knowledge of history, I knew that the English weren't above such dirty tactics as making things up for their own benefit. But I didn't truly know the man before me to know if it was him or the English at fault. I intended to find out as much as I could before I made my judgement. "I'm going to assume you were escaping the English?" I asked.

"Aye," he responded with a lift of his brow. "From Fort William."

Lottie had taken me to Fort William on one of our excursions, so I knew it belonged to the English. It was a prison, of sorts, if I recalled correctly. I couldn't remember the dates, however. I just remembered flashes of the place. But the man didn't seem to be one for oversharing more than what was asked. So, I would have to continue to prod him. "That's one of their prisons, correct?"

He nodded.

"And how did you end up there in the first place?"

He rubbed his brow with his free hand. "Oh, that. I think that was obstruction."

I saw him wince slightly at my most recent touch of his wound. To keep him talking, I was likely going to have to distract him. "My, my," I teased before making a tutting noise. "Obstruction, escape, and theft. You, sir, sound like a right dangerous character."

The distraction worked ever-so-slightly. One corner of his mouth turned up and his dark blue eyes glinted. "Oh, I am that," Jamie said. "A wonder you think yourself safe in the same room wi' me."

I looked up, making eye contact. Nervously, I looked back down quickly and wiped my hands on the apron. He seemed to respond well to teasing. So, I dared it again. "Well, you look harmless enough at the moment."

Those words were very much untrue. If anything, he did match the description of the man of dangerous character with his scars, blood smears, stubbled cheeks, and reddened eyelids from the long night ride. Not to mention that he was likely very capable of more mayhem should the need arise.

But he surprised me and started to laugh. His laugh was surprisingly deep and infectious. I couldn't help but smile at his laugh. Despite whatever kind of man he might be, I could be certain that he had a nice laugh. Not that that type of information would help in fending him off should the need arise. But I had a gut feeling that the need would never come.

"Harmless as a setting dove," he agreed. "I'm too hungry to be a threat to anything but breakfast. Let a stray bannock come within reach, though, and I'll no answer for the consequences."

"Remind me not to get on your bad side when you're hungry," I teased.

"Bad news then, lass. I'm always hungry."

I shook my head and chuckled. "What is it with men and always being hungry? I swear you men have bottomless pits for stomachs." I then returned to tending Jamie's wounds.

Jamie chuckled. "It's true. That's why I usually snitch food when Mrs. Fitz isna minding after me in the kitchens."

I was about to tease him about the thieving bit being true when a gasp of pain escaped his lips. "Sorry," I apologized, biting my lip as I concentrated on his wound. "Your stab wound is very deep and it's dirty. If I don't get this dirt out your wound will grow infe--inflamed. If I can prevent that from happening, it'll save you a lot of grief and pain later on."

He inhaled sharply. "It's alright."

He was likely just saying that, rather than meaning the words because he had gone pale under the coppery stubble of his beard. Like a child, he seemed to be holding his breath. The last thing I needed was him passing out on top of things. So, I tried to lead him back into conversation.

"I'm sorry if this sounds ridiculous, but what is obstruction? I don't know that we have that charge where I'm from." True enough that it wasn't technically a lie.

Thankfully, he took a deep breath. He then fixed his eyes on the bedpost and I continued to swab deeper.

"Ah. Weel, I suppose it's whatever the English say it is."

That earned a slight scoff from me. I didn't make eye contact to see if that pleased him.

"In my case, it meant defending my family and my property, and getting myself half killed in the process." He pressed his lips together as if to say no more on the matter. But as I swabbed more, he seemed that he would rather focus his attention on anything other than the shoulder I was minding.

"It was near to four years ago. There was a levy put on the manners near Fort William. . . "

"Of course there was," I muttered with distaste in my mouth. Given my knowledge of things about the Revolutionary War, I knew The English would demand food, horses, wagons, lodging, and almost anything they wanted from people. Especially those living near a garrison. Thirty years from now, my ancestors - that thought seemed strange - would be facing similar trials in Setauket, Long Island under English rule.

"Have ye lived under a levy?"

I pursued my lips for a moment before answering as honestly as I could. "My family has been subjected to English levies in the colonies." Again, it wasn't technically a lie, it just wasn't the complete truth. But it wasn't like I could exactly come out and tell him my situation.

"Ah, weel small parties of soldiers would go round with an officer and a wagon or two, collecting bits of food and things. One day in October, yon Captain Randall came along to L--" he caught himself quickly with a glance at me, "to our place."

"Because of course being captain of a garrison, he had nothing better to do with his time," I responded, keeping my eyes on my work.

His chest rumbled a bit in response, but he didn't vocalize a response to my witty retort. Usually, it took me far longer to open up to people like this. Although I did get witty with men that came from the battlefield, most of those were ones I knew wouldn't survive and I wanted to make them as comfortable as I could.

"We'd thought they'd not come so far; the place is a good distance from the fort, and not easy to get to. But they did."

He closed his eyes for a moment before continuing. "My father was away -- gone to a funeral at the next farm. And I was up in the fields wi' most of the men, for it was close to harvest, and a lot to be done. So my sister was alone in the house, except for two or three of the women servants, and they all rushed upstairs to hide their heads under the bedclothes when they saw the red coats. Thought the soldiers were sent by the devil -- and I'll no just say they were wrong."

I hadn't realized that I had been holding onto my breath when he made mention of his sister. I was a bit upset that he stopped. What had happened to his sister? Given the little I already knew about this man, I had a feeling I knew where this story was going. Great-grandma Lydia was only spared such things under English rule because she was the magistrate's daughter and her father was loyal to the crown. But in her memoir, she shared the stories of women who had gone against the English and not fared so kindly. Was that what happened to Jamie's sister?

Jamie must have realized that I was lost in thought because he was now eyeing me carefully. "Sorry," I muttered. "I was just thinking of other women who ended up going against the English without their men close by. And given that this is Randall we're speaking of, I hope this story ends better than where I believe it to be going."

His face didn't give any hints of where the story was going. "I came down toward the house from behind," he continued. "I was meaning to fetch a piece of harness from the barn, and heard the shouting and my sister screaming inside the house."

I closed my eyes for a moment and inhaled slowly. I didn't like the sound of where this story was heading. But such situations were a reality, especially in this time where men looked at women like their property. Thankfully the nasty part of tending his wound was done, so I laid down my cloth. All he needed now was a poultice of some kind - seeing as iodine or penicillin weren't on hand. The poultice and a good tight dressing were the best I could do to prevent an infection.

I lifted my head to look at him to continue. His eyes were closed as if he were lost in thought. I don't know why, but I reached out and squeezed his hand. "Please go on. I--I want to make sure my judgement of Randall's character is the correct one."

Jamie licked his lips before he squeezed my hand back. He lessened the pressure on my hand, but he didn't release it. "I went through the kitchen and found two of 'em rifling' the pantry, stuffin' their sacks wi' flour and bacon. I punched one of them in the head, and threw the other out the window, sack and all."

A strangled chuckle escaped my lips. "Serves them right, I say."

He sighed and then nodded his head. "Then I burst into the parlour, where I found two of the redcoats with my sister, Jenny. Her dress was torn a bit. . ."

I winced. He must have noticed because when I looked back up at him, his eyes were open and he was smiling a bit grimly. He softly added, "But one of them had a scratched face."

"I'm hoping your sister was the one that did it because it serves him right too."

He rubbed his thumb on the back of my hand. "I didna stop to ask questions. We were going round and about, and I wasna doing too poorly, for all there were two of them when Randall came in."

"Of course he did," I muttered under my breath.

"Randall stopped the fight by holding a pistol to Jenny's head."

My eyes widened in horror as Jamie explained that with the pistol to his sister's head, he had been forced to surrender and was seized by the two soldiers he was trying to defend his sister against. All the while he spoke, he continued to stroke my hand with his thumb.

He cleared his throat before he repeated the words Randall had said with a charming smile at him. They were horrible and disgusting words. Words that no man in a position of power should ever say to anyone. But these were different times and such words were acceptable. Jamie stopped talking for a moment after the quote from Randall implied a sexual favour from Jamie's sister.

But Jamie continued, "He was holdin' Jenny's arm behind her back; but he let it go then to bring his hand round and put it down her dress, round her breast, like."

A tear slipped down my cheek. I hadn't realized that I was close to tears listening to his words. Not wanting to look weak in front of him, I pulled my hand from his hold and wiped my tears away. "You probably think I'm some silly and emotional woman," I sniffed as I stood on my feet once more and cleared my throat. "It's just knowing how close I... If you hadn't been there. . . " I closed my eyes for a moment and hung my head. I inhaled slowly and rested my hands on my hips. "I should see to dressing that shoulder. But please continue. I know my tears say otherwise, but I promise you that I'm stronger than I look."

He nodded his head and then smiled unexpectedly. "Ye'll like this next part."

I sniffled. "I'd better or your other shoulder might need some mending."

"Threats again, is it?" he chuckled.

I forced a smile on my face for him as I stood in front of him, beginning to wrap the bandages.

"Weel, Jenny stamped her foot down and gave him an elbow in the belly. And he was bent over choking, she whirled around and gave him a good root in the stones wi' her knee." He snorted briefly with amusement.

I chuckled. Then sniffled. And chuckled some more. "You're right. I do like that part."

"So my good shoulder is safe?" he asked. I couldn't tell if his tone was teasing or not. I hoped it was and he didn't actually fear I would injure his other shoulder.

But I kept things light and responded, "For now."

The corner of his mouth turned up for a moment and then he continued. "Weel, at that he dropped the pistol, and she went for it, but one of the dragoons holding me got to it first."

The word dragoon made me think of great-grandpa Ben. Well, he was a few more times than just great, but that's how I thought of him. He was a dragoon for the Continentals in the Revolutionary War. Not that I could share that information with Jamie.

"When he'd got back enough breath to talk with, Randall had his men haul us both outside. They stripped off my shirt, bound me to the wagon tongue, and Randall beat me across the back with the flat of his saber. He was in a black fury, but a wee bit the worse for wear, ye might say. It stung me a bit, but he couldna keep it up for long."

Jamie stopped talking and I could feel his shoulders had gone hard with tension as I continued to bandage it. I could almost feel his anger and it made me feel angry. So, I chewed my bottom lip as I continued to wrap his shoulder.

"When he stopped, he turned to Jenny -- one of the dragoons had hold of her -- and asked her did she want to see more, or would she rather go into the house with him, and offer him better entertainment?"

His good shoulder twitched uneasily. I continued chewing my lip.

"I couldna move much, but I shouted to her that I wasna hurt -- and I wasn't, too much -- and that she was not to go with him, not if they cut my throat before her eyes. They were holding her behind me, so I couldna see, but from the sound of it, she spat in his face."

"Good," I muttered to myself, but I was fairly certain Jamie heard me.

"She must have done it, because next thing I knew, he'd grabbed a handful of my hair, pulled my head back, and set his knife against my throat."

I exhaled loudly and shook my head. I didn't think I could possibly have a worse opinion of the man I already had going into this conversation, but he was even worse than imaginable. If Frank Randall heard this, he wouldn't be so quick to want to claim being descended from the man. Although how Frank Randall could possibly be descended was beyond me. The only thing that gave it away was their appearances.

Jamie continued. Randall had told him, "I've a mind to take you at your suggestion." The cruel man dug the point of his blade just beneath the skin, far enough to draw blood.

"I could see the dagger close to my face," Jamie said, "and the pattern of spots of my blood was making in the dust under the wagon." His tone was almost dreamy. Due to the fatigue and pain, he must have lapsed into something like a hypnotic state. Especially since I had stopped bandaging his wound and simply stood listening to his tale.

"I made a call out to my sister, to tell her that I'd much prefer to die than have her dishonour herself wi' such scum. Randall took the dagger from my throat, though, and thrust the blade betwixt my teeth, so I couldna call out." He rubbed at his mouth, as though still tasting bitter steel. He stopped talking and stared straight ahead.

"Then what happened?" I asked.

He shook himself, like a man rousing from sleep, and rubbed a large hand tiredly across the back of his neck. "She went with him," he said abruptly. "She thought he would kill me, and perhaps she was right."

I sighed and gave his good shoulder a reassuring squeeze. While I had never been blessed with any siblings, I could already tell that Jamie and his sister cared about each other a great deal. The closest thing I had to a sibling was Lottie and she was gone. Despite the high, I had felt from the sense of adventure earlier, I could feel my emotions beginning to bubble up within me.

"After that, I dinna ken what happened," he continued. "One of the dragoons hit me in the head wi' the stock of his musket. When I woke, I was trussed up in the wagon wi' the chickens, jolting down the road toward Fort William."

"I'm so sorry. It must have been terrible for you."

He smiled suddenly, the haze of fatigue dissipating. "Oh, aye. Chickens are verra poor company, especially on a long journey."

A snort escaped from me. He seemed rather pleased with himself for eliciting such a response. I shook my head.

He must have realized that the dressing was completed because he hunched his shoulder experimentally, wincing as he did so.

"Don't do that!" I chided him. "You need to rest your shoulder, not go about moving it and irritating it further. That will only make things worse. But judging from the little I know you, you're going to go about being a stubborn man. So . . . "

I reached for the extra dry strips of fabric on the table. "I'm going to strap that arm of yours to your side. It's for your own good. Now hold still."

He didn't say anything, but he almost looked apprehensive. He relaxed a bit under my hands when he realized that what I was doing wasn't going to hurt. "There," I said when the strapping was finished. "That had better still be on the next time I see you. Otherwise, I might have to make good on some of those threats."

He chuckled. I then helped him put his rough linen shirt on, easing it over the bad shoulder. He then stood up and one-handed, he tucked his shirt into his kilt before he smiled down at me.. It was a good thing he had been sitting on a short stool when I helped him because he towered over me. I knew I was short in stature, but it was an immediate reminder standing beside this tall, rugged Highlander.

"You're a kind woman with a good touch," he said. His hand reached out to touch my face, but he seemed to think better of it. His hand wavered and then dropped to his side. "Your husband is a verra lucky man."

My husband. No wonder he thought better. Here I had been, practically flirting with the man and he remembered my husband. He must think me a woman of loose morals to go about in the way I had been. Truth be told, I hadn't really thought much of Stephen around Jamie. I rubbed my brow.

"After everything you just shared with me, I feel I should tell you that I haven't been entirely forthcoming. After Randall, I--I wasn't sure if I could trust a group of strange men. I--I hoped that you were all more honourable than Randall so I mentioned my husband. . ." I twisted the ring on my finger. "While it's true that I was married. . . "

"Ah, lass, are ye widowed, then?" His voice was so full of sympathetic concern that I nearly lost it right there.

I didn't trust my voice to not betray me, so I simply nodded my head. I then turned my back to him and tugged at my cross necklace with my left hand. My eyes gazed at the mantle over the fireplace. I let my fingers of my free hand run across the wood. I gasped when they found the letters E.C.S.M. carved into the wood. That sent me spinning.

Only a few days ago, Lottie and I had been in this very room and we etched our initials into the wood beside the mysterious and worn E.C.S.M.. But our initials weren't there. They wouldn't be there for another 200 years. The only person in the world I considered to be family, or even loved, wasn't with me. I was alone. And while yes, the sense of adventure suited and excited me, that didn't mean there wasn't an emotional toll. Especially after everything I had been through of late.

"I'm all alone. Everyone I love is gone," I managed to choke out before the dam of tears broke. Overcome with emotion and tiredness, I began to sob hysterically. Still clutching my cross with one hand, I reached across my middle with the other, hugging myself as tightly as I could.

Most men would have called for help or retreated in confusion at the sight of a hysterical woman. To his great credit, Jamie reached out with his good arm and tugged me to him. He then sat down on the stool and gathered me onto his lap. Muttering soft Gaelic in my ear, he rocked me gently and smoothed my hair with one hand.

I wept bitterly, feeling safe with him. The warmth of his body brought me great comfort as I nestled my head against his chest, continuing to cry. I cried for Lottie. What was she doing in my absence? Was she out there looking for me? Did she blame herself for taking me to Craigh na Dun? Who would she talk to when she was frustrated with her father? Would he marry her off now that I wasn't there?

I cried for my father, gone too soon.

I cried for the mother I never knew.

I cried for Stephen, finally mourning his loss. While true, we hadn't loved each other as I had dreamed I would love someone, he had kept me safe the best he could. But I cried for him, trapping me in a loveless marriage. I cried for him being injured in the war. I cried for the months I had to care for him because he wasn't capable of caring for himself. I cried for him dying, leaving me alone in a strange place.

I cried because of what Captain Randall had almost done to me. I cried because of what I was pretty sure Captain Randall was doing to Mistress Campbell. I cried for what Captain Randall had done to Jamie and his family.

Through all of the tears, Jamie never let go. He would just bring me closer to him and continue to try to calm me. I had never known a man to care so much or offer assistance in this manner, especially to a woman he barely knew. He might be a criminal, but I could already tell that he had a heart of gold, which meant more to me than any charges he might have been dealt.

My sobs lessened and I was eventually able to calm myself. Despite feeling embarrassed at having fallen to pieces in front of him, I couldn't bring myself to move. This was the safest I had felt since arriving in this strange place and I wasn't ready to let go quite yet. I couldn't help but wonder what it felt like to be fully embraced by him, but it was my fault he didn't have use of his other arm. Which was probably for the best. I might not have ever let go.

When I could feel my eyes beginning to grow weary with sleep, I knew it was time to remove myself from him. I couldn't risk falling asleep in his arms. While he seemed like the honest type with a heart of gold, he was still a man in a dangerous time for women.

I untangled myself from him, apologizing as I backed away, "I'm so sorry about that. . . I mean, thank you for what you. . ." I closed my eyes and sighed. "I'm not normally like this."

Realizing that I should probably leave and find a place to sleep for myself, I turned to walk toward the door. He reached out for my hand and pulled me back. I whirled to face him when he put a finger under my chin and tipped my face so that I was looking up at him.

"Ye need not be scairt of me, Ruthie," he said softly. The way he said my name sent shivers up my spine. "Nor of anyone here, so long as I'm with ye."

With his finger still under my chin, I gave a small nod.

Jamie smiled before he lowered his arm and walked toward the fire. "Ye need somethin' hot, lass," he said matter-of-factly, "and a bit to eat as well. Something in yer belly will help more than anything."

An odd sort of chuckle escaped my lips. "Men and food," I muttered.

He must have heard me because I heard a low, hearty rumble come from him. I then couldn't help but emit a shaky laugh. He looked rather silly trying to attempt to pour broth one-handed. I'm sure he was capable, but it didn't make him look any less silly. So, I walked over and helped him.

We then sat on the floor together in front of the fire, sipping broth and eating bread in companionable silence. He was right about the food. It did help me feel better. If I had a good sleep, I might almost feel normal again. But where was I supposed to sleep? This was clearly a room reserved for Jamie. I was fairly certain I remembered how to get to the kitchen. Hopefully, Mrs. Fitz wasn't too busy and could show me where I ought to sleep. Or maybe I could find a small corner in the kitchen to curl up in. Surely, she wouldn't mind, at least for one sleep.

Either he was really good at reading me or he was having similar thoughts because Jamie stood up and picked up the fallen quilt from the floor. He dropped it back on the bed and motioned me toward it. "Ye should sleep a bit, Ruthie. Yer worn out and likely someone will want to talk wi' ye before too long."

I sighed and nodded my head in understanding. I was thankful that almost everything I had told Jamie about myself was the truth. . . or nearly the truth. It would make it much easier to remember when I was to talk with anyone else.

Given that he had acted honourably so far, I assumed Jamie wasn't asking me to share the bed with him; but rather take it for myself. Although, with Jamie being injured, taking his bed didn't sit quite well with me. Unless I knew he had a place to sleep. "What about you? Where will you sleep?" I asked him.

He waved his hand at me, brushing aside his concern. "I know my way around Leoch and can find another bed."

I wanted to argue with him. Ask him if he was sure. Tell him that I didn't want to steal his room, but frankly, I was too tired to put up much of a fight at the moment. So, I simply nodded my head in agreement.

With his good arm, he reached his hand down to help me up from the floor. I couldn't help but notice that my hand looked so small as I placed it in his big one. His fingers easily engulfed my hand as he wrapped them around it to get a good grip to help me up.

Once I was on my feet, I didn't want to let go of his hand. I already felt some sort of connection with my Scottish saviour. I felt safe with him. But it was hardly appropriate to ask him to stay. Especially with my confession about being widowed. So, I released his hand. He was almost out the door when I managed to find my voice. "Jamie," I called softly.

He stopped and turned toward me, still in the doorway.

"Thank you. For everything," I told him as I folded my arms across my chest.

"Should it not be I thanking ye, lass?" he asked, looking down at his shoulder. He then looked back at me with a soft smile. "Thank ye."

"You'd better keep that on until I say so or. . ."

He grinned. "Threats. I understand." He seemed to understand my teasing, something that was a hit or miss with Stephen. "Sleep well, Ruthie," Jamie said before he took one more step out of the room and closed the door behind him.

"You too," I whispered, not loud enough for him to hear on the other side of the door.

I then readied for bed. I was thankful that I knew enough about the 18th century to know that women slept in their shifts, the most bottom layer of clothing on my body. I somehow managed to finagle myself out of the upper layers before I flopped on the bed. And for the first time in a long time, sleep came quite easily.

Author's Note: Finally! Another chapter! Things have been crazy in my life. If you've read The Prayer or follow me on Tumblr, then you know - but for those of you who don't. My younger brother died unexpectedly (suicide) and I've been working through that. Teaching hasn't been easy this year with some blackhawk helicopter parents and I was really sick the last month dealing with sinus infections, ear infections, and bronchitis which then flared back. Plus all the firsts after losing someone are difficult. I don't need y'all to say anything - I just wanted you to know where I've been and that things will still probably rough for a while yet. But hey! I managed an update.

Also, I just wanted to say thank you. All the comments, likes, favorites, votes, or whatnot that I've gotten on this story have been a bright spot during the past crazy months. So thank you for being that for me.

Much love!