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It's funny where you will find inspiration. I was driving down the street and happened to spy a young woman working in her flower garden. She wore tiny, tight short-shorts and was down on her hands and knees. She was displaying a fine little butt pointed at the street. Clearly, she was not aware of the little show she was providing to passers-by, or maybe she was... I could plainly see her panty lines and the idea for this story was born.

This is loooong, longer than I normally write for one chapter. I became very wrapped up in the backstory and the romance. To be quite honest, there is little sex and it's mostly at the end. I hope you stick with it and enjoy the journey of two pretty ladies.

I'd like to thank my editor, drbob80. He took a story that was a mess in places and made it readable. I'd also like to thank leftylooo for reading and giving me encouragement.

About ten years ago, I moved into a new home in the suburbs. It's an average sized three-bedroom home on a cul-de-sac in an upper middle class neighborhood. I have a good job in a relatively stable industry so I felt confident this would be my home for a long time. The downside of my good job is that I work long hours and don't really have much of a social life. Sadly, the majority of my social life consisted of attending the many block and house parties put on by the homeowner's association.

It's not easy being the only single female in a family oriented subdivision. At the homeowner's association parties, many of the good family men would sidle up to me, figuring that since I was single, I would be gagging for it (as the British say). I was not. At these parties, I tried to make certain that I always stayed clear of the men and hung out with the women. I didn't want them thinking that I was after their husbands. For the most part, I succeeded in that endeavor. Marci from down the street became a particularly good friend.

Occasionally, there was a new wife who took offense to her husband talking to me. It rarely happened, but when it did, it didn't last long. The other ladies seemed to know that their men didn't interest me and would talk to the offended wife. Eventually, I became good friends with all of the wives because I never failed to hold their men at arm's length and beyond.

Several years ago, the economy took a sharp turn for the worse. Many people lost their jobs and some were not able to recover. There were some families from our little group who lost their homes and had to move away. A few were able to find work locally, but others were forced to move away to distant cities. In any event, we all lost touch with the friends that left our little enclave. Homes that were lost had been foreclosed and sat empty. The lending institutions made certain that the grass was cut, but the lovely little flower gardens became overgrown from lack of attention.

After a couple of years, the economy began to recover and house flippers bought some of the homes. However, there was one house on my street that didn't sell to a flipper and was looking sadder and sadder. It actually sat empty and forlorn for more than three years.

Then, some time ago I noticed a moving van parked in the driveway with movers carrying furniture and other items into the garage and house. I didn't see anybody that seemed to be connected to the house, so I had no idea who had purchased the home. I was thrilled because there was somebody in it and I hoped that the rundown appearance would soon begin to improve.

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I am an avid runner. Even though I work long hours, I make time every day to run; it's my time, my sanctuary. Most days my run takes place early in the morning, but my schedule occasionally interferes with that. When that happens, I will run late in the day.

This week I had had a series of meetings at six-thirty in the morning and I didn't have enough time to run and get ready without getting up at an ungodly hour. So, I was relegated to running late in the day. It was about three weeks after the new neighbors moved in and I had yet to see them. I assumed that while the exterior of the house didn't look bad, except for the weeds in the flower beds, the inside of the house must be much worse, therefore taking up most of their time. When I ran, my route took me past the house on the way out and then again on the way back. I would glance at the house each time I went by and didn't see that anything had changed.

One Saturday morning, I ran by, glanced at the house and didn't immediately notice anything out of the ordinary. However, as I was turning my head back, I barely noticed a tiny movement out of the corner of my eye. I looked back and slowed down (almost stopping) because I didn't see anything which would have caught my attention. As I was about to give up, thinking that the movement was a figment of my imagination, I saw the bottom of a young woman poking out from the weeds in front of the house. As my mind caught up with what I was seeing, I thought 'Oh My God!' and then stumbled over my own feet, nearly face planting in the street.

I managed to regain my balance before I fell, but the image was burned into my retinas and my brain. It was only a split second look, but the image it left was mesmerizing. She wore tiny, tight, black short-shorts. Her butt was tight and I imagined it to be very firm. The most memorable part of the image was the panty line. Every inch of the line was clearly defined under the shorts. Even though it was just a split-second glance, I swore I saw the groove of her womanhood.

I am in pretty good shape from running an average of five miles per day, but I was out of breath by the time I got to the intersection at the end of our street. I ran in place for a couple of minutes, trying to recover my breath. As I recovered, I thought about what I had seen. I became convinced that the vision burned into my memory was absolutely too good to have been true. I rationalized that I had been so surprised to see someone in the yard, that my imagination had run wild. My breathing now having returned to normal, I resumed my run, determined to shake off the ridiculously inaccurate memory as well as the stress of the week. I had two routes that I ran regularly; one was just shy of five miles and one that was about eight and a half miles. When I reached the intersection that determined my route, I never hesitated and took the eight and a half mile turn. I let the endorphins do their job and ran smoothly and effortlessly, letting my mind clear itself of clutter.

I barely thought about the vison in the black shorts as I ran. Evidently, my subconscious had been working on a problem from yesterday's meeting, because I suddenly had an inspiration. I had turned the idea over and over in my head when I realized that not only would my idea work, it would solve an upcoming labor crisis. I was overjoyed. It was then that I became conscious that I had been running on autopilot, because the turn for my street was just ahead. As I assessed my condition I realized that I was breathing normally and my heart rate was just as slow as it would have been if I was sitting at my desk. It made me smile. I wished I could bottle this feeling.

I turned down my street and remembered the imaginary girl and her incredible bottom. I looked and was disappointed to see that she wasn't there. To further my disappointment, I realized that she truly must have been a figment of my imagination. After I got home, I showered and then spent the next several hours on my computer firming up my ideas on labor. By the time I went to bed, the vision in the short-shorts was all but forgotten.

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She was a distant memory over the next several weeks as I ran, but didn't see her. I barely thought about her. On another Saturday morning, I glanced at the house. I didn't see anything, as usual, and just kept running. I took my long route and felt really good as I turned down my street. Little did I know that I was in for a big surprise.

I looked over as I approached her house and was awestruck to recognize the bottom in the black short-shorts. Not only was she real, but the vision was better than I remembered. As I passed, she got up from her hands and stretched her back, letting me see the whole of her butt and her back. The panty line that had tantalized me was revealed to me to be bikini style panties and, under the white tank top she was apparently braless for there was no bra outline. The pride I always had felt in having my breath after the run quickly dissipated, as I was suddenly breathless.

I stumbled once again, but, this time, I was unable to regain my footing. I shrieked, "Oh Shiiittt!" as I went down, skinning my knees and my hands in the process. I stayed down for a moment, mentally assessing the damage.

I was startled by a soft voice asking, "Are you all right?"

My head snapped up and the wearer of the short-shorts was kneeling in front of me with a concerned expression on her face. I was mesmerized and speechless at the vision of Amy Adams in front of me. Of course, I knew it wasn't Amy Adams, but she could have been her sister. The strawberry blonde hair, the startlingly pale green eyes, cute upturned nose, gorgeous face seemed to be all Amy Adams. I stayed down, staring at her, speechless, my mouth working soundlessly.

She started to giggle. I frowned and it made her laugh harder. "I'm sorry," she snorted," you look like a baby bird, with your mouth opening and closing." I still was unable to respond, her beauty overwhelming me. It should have pissed me off, that this person that I didn't even know making fun of me, but it didn't.

"Come on," she snickered, "I know you can speak, I heard you swear quite loudly!"

I blurted the thing that was at the front of my mind, even though it didn't answer her question. "You look just like Amy Adams!"

I was stunned by her answer, "Of course I do. That's 'cause I am Amy Adams!" My mouth started working again as I struggled with a response.

She laughed aloud and her laughter was contagious and I joined in. "Of course, I'm not her; I just love seeing the reaction to me saying that."

I was grinning when I muttered, "Bitch!"

She responded with mock horror, "You called America's Sweetheart a bitch?!? Shame on you."

As I stared at her, it slowly dawned on me that we were still on the sidewalk in front of her house; me on my hands and knees and "Amy", kneeling.

I cleared my throat, "I ummm, we ought to get up." I started to rise.

She put a firm hand on my shoulder. "Not until you tell me if you're all right!"

I tried to hide a grateful smile at her words. I hadn't heard that level of compassion directed toward me in a long, long time.

"I honestly don't know." I grinned. "Maybe if you let me up, we can figure that out."

She snorted a laugh and stood up, holding out her hands. I took them and felt a surge between us. My eyes widened at the unexpected feeling. I looked at her and her eyes had done the same, as though she had felt it too.

"Whoa...," she murmured, confirming that she had felt it.

"Ummm, yeah," I agreed.

As we stood there, she didn't let go and neither did I. We stood quietly, searching each other's eyes.

I finally decided that I needed to say something. "Ummm, maybe I need to introduce myself, since we're standing here holding hands. I am Kendall Jacobs, and I live in the brick ranch at the end of the street."

She had been looking into my eyes without much of an expression on her face, but after I introduced myself, she broke into a huge grin. "Do you mind that we're holding hands?"

I decided to see if "Amy" had a sense of humor. "I like that we are holding hands, but I'm not so sure that I like the dirt from the flower beds."

Her eyes got wide again, looked down at her hands and tried to jerk them away, but I had anticipated that and held on tight. I grinned at her when she looked back up at me. "Gotcha!"

"Ooooh, you are quite the bitch too, aren't you?" She said, grinning back at me.

"Maaayyybee..." I smirked. "Do you have a name, or should I continue to call you Amy?"

Her grin widened a little when she said, "My name is Reilly Hannigan."

I grinned back at her, "That's a very pretty name, and really Irish!"

She blushed, "Uhhh, yeah, my great-grandparents came over in the fifties and settled in Boston. My grandpa and my dad each married proper Irish-Catholic girls and here I am." She giggled, "My full name is Mary Katherine Reilly Hannigan."

I cocked my head and grinned, "Mary-Kate?"

The cute smile dropped instantly. The set to her jaw was firm and more than a little scary. "We're new friends so you don't know, but no-one will ever call me Mary-Kate again!"

Her demeanor changed back almost as quickly and she was smiling again. "So, if you want to be friends, and I hope you do, you'll remember that."

Frightened, I dropped her hands and stepped back. I did not need a friendship with a nutcase.

Her smile fell instantly and her lip trembled. "Oh, I'm sorry, I've frightened you. I'm not crazy, I promise. If you'll let me help you clean up, I'll explain everything and then I hope you'll understand." She stood there, looking sad and yet hopeful. I hesitated and her shoulders drooped even further, the hopeful expression fading.

She turned to walk away. "I won't bother you anymore."

My heart broke at the vision of her sadness. I reached out and touched her elbow and she turned to look at me, the hope in her eyes a very powerful thing. "I'll gladly take your help and listen to what you have to tell me. I'm not making any promises, though."

Her cute, shy smile returned and was more than a little heartbreaking. She hesitantly reached out to take my hand and I extended mine and placed it in hers, with a little more bravery than I felt. I wasn't sure about this at all, but the poignant way in which she was acting now inexplicably moved me.

We took a step towards her house and evidently the sc****s on my knees had already started to scab over because I suddenly felt searing pain surge through my knees. They buckled unexpectedly and I yelped as I went down again.

Reilly shrieked in surprise, "Kendall! Are you alright?"

I looked up sheepishly at her covering her mouth in disbelief. "Uhhh, that hurt more than I expected."

I struggled to stand while she was frozen in place. She suddenly realized that I needed help. She reached out again and took my hands. The surge that we had felt earlier was alive and well and it comforted me a little. I hoped that the electricity between us was a sign that everything would be alright.

Reilly slipped an arm around my waist and took my left hand in hers. I smiled gratefully as I once again felt the caring feeling from her wash over me. Even though I really didn't need it, I leaned into her a little more and she tightened her arm around me. I sighed happily and I felt her either shiver in appreciation or shake with a little giggle. I really didn't care either way.

Reilly apologized, "I'm sorry, we need to go around to the back door. The living room is a little torn up and I'm afraid that you might stumble and fall again." This time she did giggle, "I wouldn't want those long beautiful legs to get hurt again."

I flushed in embarrassment, but also in excitement. I teased he a little, "Beautiful, huh? Have you been spying on me?" I glanced up at her, grinning to myself.

"Oh! No! I uhhh, I, oh crap! I..." Reilly flushed in embarrassment, stuttering along, not really able to answer me.

I snickered and her head snapped around to stare at me, then she grinned, "Bitch!"

I smirked in return. As we slowly made our way around the house, we weren't watching where we were going. I was captivated by her lovely green eyes and I hoped she was similarly absorbed in my own brown ones. We stumbled over the hose that was stretched across the sidewalk and I went down, yet again. When I looked up from my now very painful hands and knees, her eyes were wide and her hands were covering her mouth in horror. I had to laugh.

Her hands left her mouth and went to her hips. "Just what is so funny?" Reilly asked indignantly.

I chuckled, "I just had a flash of the future. When people ask how we met, I will say, 'After I had fallen at her feet, my angel of mercy helped me to my feet and to her home. Then she threw me to the ground.' After that, my heart was hers!"

She tried to continue frowning, but failed miserably. "What would make you think I want the heart of somebody so clumsy?" She started laughing, "My back would be sore all the time from picking your uncoordinated ass up!"

When she said ass, my thoughts immediately returned to the vision of her ass in the shorts. As hard as I tried, I couldn't keep my eyes from drifting to her hip, trying in vain to see her ass. When I looked back at her face, her eyes had widened again, then flashed and she had a little smirk on her face.

She raised her hands above her head, raising her small, firm breasts into her tee shirt; her hard nipples pressed into the sweaty cotton and then did a full, slow pirouette. My eyes were drawn to her ass like a moth to a flame. When she came around, she stopped and I was staring right at her crotch. I noticed movement in the periphery of my vision and her hands had returned to her hips. My eyes returned to her face and her perfect lips were drawn up into another smirk.

"Like what you see?" She whispered throatily.

I was completely and utterly speechless. I simply nodded.

"Good," she whispered, "so do I. Let's try this one more time."

Gently, she took my hands in hers and helped me to my feet. Silently, her arm returned to encircle my waist and into her hand went mine. It was comfortable and somehow felt as though that was how we belonged. Slowly, this time paying close attention to where we were walking, we made our way through the back door.

I barely remembered this house from the previous owner's, but the kitchen had been completely transformed. All of the cabinets were new, as were the countertops and appliances. A wall that had separated the kitchen from the rest of the house was gone, making an open inviting space. Beyond the kitchen, however, the house looked like it been hit by a tornado. There was no furniture, the carpet was pulled up and rolled up in the middle of the living room. The drywall had been pulled down from the studs and was piled alongside of the carpet, as were about half of the studs. I could see that a room at the other end of the house had what looked to be new studs and a layer of drywall installed. I assumed that was Reilly's bedroom and it appeared to be finished.

Reilly saw that I was looking around her house. She guided me to the table and had me sit on a chair. Then she explained. "Sorry, my dad and I have been working on this. I saw this house and fell in love with the neighborhood and most of the house, but there were things I wanted to change. Mostly, I wanted a fresh start. We tore everything out down to the studs, enlarged and put the bedroom back together and finished the kitchen."

I asked in amazement, "You did this all in three weeks?"

She laughed, "Of course not. I've owned the house for six months. We've been working on it every day."

"But I run by it nearly every day, I haven't seen anything." I said.

"We work between nine and three every day, no breaks. Then Daddy and I fill up his truck and are out of here by four." She said. "I didn't want my new neighbors to be unhappy with the construction. I didn't move in until I had some place to sleep and eat. Now, we work the same hours indoors and I get to live in my house."

You could tell by the pride in her voice and the way that she stood up proudly, that she was very proud of her accomplishments. In the twenty minutes that I'd known her, Reilly had shown herself to be a very complex young woman.

"Now, let's see to your owies." She said seriously and bent over my hand.

I snorted in laughter.

She looked at me, "What?" She had no idea what she had said.

I laughed aloud, "Owies?"

She flushed bright red. "Sorry, I used to be a pediatric nurse and it just comes naturally."

There was something in her tone that bothered me. "Used to be?"

She visibly sagged. "That is part of my story." She stood up and paused for a couple of moments. "Let me get you cleaned up and bandaged, get you a cold drink and I'll tell you everything you want to know." She sagged some more. "Then if you want to run from me, you and I will know why you're running."

She went into the other room and brought back bandages, antibacterial soap, water and saline solution. I smiled because I could tell by her touch that she was accustomed to working with k**s. She carefully cleaned my hands and knees then bandaged them. She put everything away and then she went and got me a bottle of Gatorade and herself a cup of coffee and sat down.

She sat for a moment just looking at me. She sighed, slowly closed her eyes and began speaking. "As I said already, I'm an Irish-Catholic girl from Boston. I come from a large family; I have eleven brothers and sisters."

I giggled and said, "Wow!"

She opened her eyes, smiled at me and then closed her eyes again. "We were very happy growing up. We were very spread out, age-wise and evenly split between boys and girls. It worked out that in our three-bedroom apartment there were never more than three of us in each bedroom at a time. As we graduated from high school, we got jobs and moved out or went to college and moved out. Mom and dad always had a crib in their room. When the oldest at home would move out, the baby was moved into their vacant spot in a bedroom."

She sighed, "Then mom and dad would begin working on another baby. Anyway, I was the second youngest, so by the time I was in high school, I had my own room. Way back when, mom had wanted to be a nurse and she encouraged me to do the same. So, I grew up dreaming of being a nurse. I wanted to go to Boston College, but we couldn't afford a private Catholic school, even with scholarships and help from the parish. So I went to UMass. I did well and got my degree on time. I applied to a lot of hospitals and got my share of offers, but I was really excited to get an offer from the Franciscan c***dren's Hospital and I jumped at it. Having grown up in a big family, I wanted to be around k**s, to help k**s."

Reilly got up and got another cup of coffee. She walked over and leaned against the granite countertop and looked at me. "This is where it starts to get ugly. Are you sure you want me to go on?"

Even though I was apprehensive at the prospect of a terrifying story, I was also hooked. "I feel terrible," I said, "but I'm nosy and want to hear this."

She gave me a little smile, "At least you're honest." She stood there for a minute, just looking at me and then closed her eyes again. I realized that closing her eyes took her back there. I also recognized that I didn't want her to experience this obviously painful memory alone in her head.

"Reilly?" I said softly.

She opened her eyes.

I held my hands out to her. "Please let me share this with you. Don't relive it alone."

She froze and stared at me and I was concerned that I had angered her. Suddenly, she smiled and came over to sit with me and took my hands.

"Thank you." She whispered and then closed her eyes again.

"I had worked at the hospital for almost a year and I had dated a couple of guys from the old neighborhood, but there was never anything serious. After four years of high school, four years of college and a year at the hospital, I was still a virgin." She giggled, fortunately able to see the humor.

"Then I met Dr. Anthony Riviera, a tall, dark, gorgeous, Italian-Catholic." She rolled her eyes. "My mom was thrilled. Don't get me wrong, Anthony, don't call me Tony, Riviera was everything a woman could want, including me."

I frowned a little, "Don't call me Tony?"

She shook her head. "He would always say, 'If my parents wanted me to be called Tony, they wouldn't have named me Anthony.' He was a little pompous about his name."

"Wow." I said and she nodded.

"We went out for a long time before we started fooling around. I was a classic nervous Catholic virgin." She blushed and looked sad at the memory. I gently squeezed her hands and she smiled.

"After a while, we fell in love and Anthony asked me to marry him. I was excited and said yes and my dad gave his enthusiastic approval when Anthony formally asked for my hand." She stopped and took a deep shuddering breath. I could tell that this was a painful memory for her and I squeezed her hands, trying to convey that I was there for her.

"My mom wanted to do this huuuge wedding and I wasn't so sure about that. Anthony told me to let her have her fun and wanted his mom to be part of the planning, too. Anthony was an only c***d and his mom would only get to participate in his wedding. My mom was grateful for the help." She opened her eyes and smiled a little. "I didn't realize what all went into planning a big Catholic wedding. My older sisters had gotten married while I was at school. Even though I had lived at home, I was focused on my studies and had paid no attention to what they were doing. I went for fittings, went to showers and to the wedding and reception, but that was all I had done. Mom, my mother-in-law, and I looked at thousands of magazines; it seemed like hundreds of venues, visited dozens of bakeries. I wanted my bridesmaids, my sisters, to look as beautiful as they are, and I wanted all of the dresses to be the same color, so we looked at hundreds of dresses and an infinite number of colors. My sisters all have varying shades of the same red hair as me and there were colors that would make one drop dead gorgeous while at the same time making another one look like a corpse. It seemed to be impossible."

I giggled, "Sounds like a nightmare."

She opened her eyes briefly and smiled, "It was."

"I had kept resisting any variants of red, because any red washes my skin out, terribly. I just knew that any red was a horrible idea. Finally, my mother-in-law convinced me to let my oldest sister, Patty, show me a dark red dress that she had found. She was breathtaking in it. Then I said, 'Patty looks spectacular, but what about the rest of them?' My mother-in-law smiled and nodded to the salesgirl and my sisters came out, one by one and stood next to Patty. Each one had the same design of dress, but with a different shade of dark red that perfectly complemented their hair, they were all stunning. At first I was speechless, then I frowned at them and Patty got nervous. She said, 'Mary Katherine, we were trying to help, we didn't want to upset you.' I said, 'You have upset me, you will all be prettier than me.' Patty looked stunned for a minute and finally realized that I was teasing. She said, 'You brat!' and came over and hugged me and it turned into a giant group hug with my sisters, my mom, my mother-in-law and the salesgirl."

Reilly smiled again, "That was a really, really good day."

She stopped and looked at me. "I know it seems like all of this is unrelated, but this is the only way I know to tell it."

I squeezed her hands again, "You tell me any way you need to tell me."

She smiled again, "Okay, thank you." Then she continued, "There was never any question that we would be married in our church, so we reserved several dates and then went looking for a reception venue."

I interrupted her, "Did Anthony participate in any of this?"

She actually laughed aloud. "No, he went to one cake tasting and bailed almost immediately. Among me, my mom, his mom and my sisters, he said there was waaay too much estrogen and he took off. He kissed me, told me he loved me and said he knew that I would make good decisions to have a beautiful day. Then he ran."

It was obvious that she had loved him and I laughed at her description. (My assumption of the past tense in my mind was automatic. Something had happened; I just didn't yet know what it was.)

She smiled before resuming, "After we had looked at the first venue on the Boston Harbor, I wanted the reception overlooking the water. I wanted it late in the afternoon, so that the sun would set and the lights in the harbor would come on and then the dancing would be overlooking the harbor. I pictured the scene in my mind and it was like it was out of a fairytale. My mother absolutely freaked at the cost. I asked Anthony about it and he said we would pay for the reception. Daddy tried to refuse but Anthony talked him into it. I got my fairytale wedding and reception. It was classy, it was beautiful and most of all, it was romantic." She had a faraway expression on her face, her eyes still closed. It was a little sad, but I could tell this was a very happy memory.

I said softly, "That sounds amazing."

She jumped a little, startled when I spoke. Opening her eyes, she giggled, "Oops! I forgot you were here."

I tilted my head to the side, "But, I'm holding your hands."

She reddened, embarrassed. "I was imagining it was Anthony, holding my hands."

I brushed my thumbs across the back of her hands. "I'm sorry that I'm not him."

She smiled warmly, "Don't get me wrong, I miss him, but I'm not sorry you're not him."

I didn't respond, but blushed and lowered my eyes. We sat silently for a few minutes, holding hands.

Finally, she slowly withdrew her hands. When I looked up, she had folded them in her lap, her expression flat and difficult to read. I looked at her questioningly.

"This is where the story gets harder to tell and I understand that it gets harder to hear." She said quietly. "Are you sure you want me to continue?"

My heart ached for the sadness that seemed to envelop her. Nosiness aside, I felt a need to hear the rest of the story. I really liked Reilly and I wanted to get to know her. There is no reasonable explanation for it, but I had a feeling that telling me her story, a complete stranger, might be the****utic for her. I reached out and took her hands in mine again and her smile was sad, but grateful.

"Evidently, when we ordered the flowers, one of the guys in the flower shop had seen me and decided that I really was Amy Adams." Apparently, I looked a little shocked and my mouth fell open and Reilly reached up and gently closed it for me. She smiled, put her hand back in mine and then continued. "I didn't realize it at the time, but he began following me. He followed me to work; he followed me home, to the grocery, on dates, to all of the wedding stuff, everywhere. In retrospect, I am guessing that I had seen him, but he didn't make an impression; I was preoccupied."

My fascination and discomfort were building at every turn. I wanted to hear more to satisfy my prurient urges, but didn't want to hear more because I was afraid of what was coming. Prurience won and I kept my mouth shut.

Reilly continued, "Weird things started occasionally happening. I noticed a picture that had been hanging crooked and that I was meaning to straighten; was straight. I dismissed it, figuring Anthony had gotten tired of seeing it. A light bulb in the hall that had been burned out for a couple of months was replaced. Again, I dismissed it figuring Anthony had replaced it. There was a welcome mat on the porch of our townhouse that had been there when we moved in. It was suddenly replaced with a really pretty one. Again, I assumed Anthony. Those things continued to happen and I was thinking that Anthony was so sweet fixing all of those things and taking no credit. Then one day Anthony came out of the bathroom and said, 'Hey, I see you got the landlord to fix the wall switch. That was great work, honey!'"

She paused, having started to shake. I didn't know her and didn't know how she would react, but I drew her into a hug. She immediately stiffened, but I hung on and she relaxed, little by little and then broke into deep sobs.

"Oh god, Kendall, I miss him so much." She sobbed into my shoulder. I didn't say anything; I just held her tight and let her cry. It was ten or fifteen minutes that she held onto me sobbing and then settling down and then resurging into deep, deep sobs. Finally, I felt her relaxing and she gently pushed me away.

She blushed deeply, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have cried on you."

I took her hands in mine again and squeezed warmly. "You can do anything that you need to do. Crying has to make you feel a little better. But, do you want to stop telling me? I know this must be painful." I grinned a little in embarrassment. "I hate to admit it, but your story has me fascinated. I do want to hear more."

I got a small smile in return. "Again, I admire that you're being so honest."

I smiled, but got serious. "You don't know me, but I will always be honest with you."

She squeezed my hands in return. "You're right, I don't know you, but I feel like I do and I know in my heart that you will."

She leaned forward and kissed my cheek, which made my heart flutter, and hugged me. "You're right about something else." She whispered in my ear. "I need to stop, for now. I can't take any more of this, at least for the time being."

I was disappointed, but said. "That's okay."

She laughed at that. "Hey! You said you'd always be honest with me." She mocked my inflection, teasingly. It was good to hear her laugh again.

I smiled and said, "Yeah, and I was honest, disappointed but honest."

"That's better," she grinned. "How about this, you come to dinner tomorrow night and I'll tell you some more."

I thought about it for a moment. "Reilly, as much as I want to know your story, I don't want to put you through all of that."

"Honestly," she said, "after telling you what I have and crying, I feel better than I have in a long time. I think you're right about telling a stranger my story. Please, I want you to come and I want to tell you some more."

I grinned happily. "I'd love to come, thank you. What should I bring?"

She giggled, "Just your pretty face and banged up knees and hands."

I had completely forgotten my hands and knees. I looked at my hands and then down at my knees. "Huh! I was so fascinated by your story, I forgot!" With that, I stood up and wobbled at the sudden pain from the breaking of the newly forming scabs. I grabbed the table and flushed in pain, sweat breaking out all over my skin. Reilly quickly grasped my elbow and supported my weight.

"Oh Kendall!" Reilly exclaimed. "Are you all right?"

I grinned, embarrassed. "I am, but I was surprised by the quick jolt of pain."

"Are you sure?" Reilly asked; the concern evident in her voice. Again, I was taken by her concern, it was heartwarming and unexpected.

"I'm fine, really," I murmured. I glanced at the clock and realized that I had been here for nearly an hour and a half and it was past lunchtime. "I need to go anyway; I have taken up way too much of your time today."

She smiled shyly, "No you haven't, it's nice to have a new friend." She paused expectantly; hope shining in her eyes.

I reached out and took her hands in mine, the powerful surge comforting me. "It is, isn't it?"

Her returning smile was so radiant that it warmed my heart. Even though I was banged up, I felt more comfortable in her presence than I had with anybody in a long time; as though I belonged here, with her.

I turned to go and unexpectedly, she grabbed me and hugged me. Her body felt wonderful against mine, compact, firm and we fit together as though we were two pieces of the same puzzle. I felt a surge of affection and lust as she clung snugly to me. She slowly let go of me, her eyes finding mine and holding them as I was mesmerized by the deep, green pools of unreadable emotion. She turned and led me to the door as I held her hand in both of mine.

We stopped and she turned to look at me, grasping my hands with both of hers. "I'll see you tomorrow, right?" she asked shyly.

I smiled as sweetly as I could. "Without a doubt, but what time should I be here?"

She opened the door and I stepped out, her hands only letting go when I reached the edge of the small porch. "Umm, about seven, okay?" I nodded and she said, "Bye Kendall."

I winked, "Bye Amy," and she giggled along with me. "I mean Reilly." She waved and watched me walk around the corner of the house.

I barely thought about anything on my way home other than her cute nose, adorable smile and gorgeous eyes. I could barely wait for tomorrow. When I got home, I stripped and took a shower after caring for the bandages. After, I lounged around the house for the rest of the day and evening, not wanting to put any stress on my injuries. I didn't want them to break open so that I could remove the bandages in the morning. I went to bed early and fell asleep quickly. My dreams were filled with Reilly and I slept deeply.

++++++++++

I woke early, feeling refreshed and eagerly looking forward to dinner tonight. Not only did I want to hear more of the story, I wanted to see Reilly again. I pulled the bandages off and saw that the sc****s were healing nicely. I took it easy all day, doing simple chores around the house. I spent several hours on the computer, catching up on some tasks from work.

About five o'clock, I went into the bathroom, took a quick shower and washed my hair. I wanted to dress appropriately, but attractively so I pulled my brunette hair up into a high, tight ponytail. I dug through my drawers and found a soft cotton, pink skirt that stopped about two inches above my knees and paired it with a white spaghetti strap silky top. I couldn't wear a bra with the top, so I went without and found a new pair of pink bikini style panties with tiny, white polka dots. I pulled out my white sandals and looked in the full length mirror. I thought I looked pretty good, maybe even hot.

I realized that my contacts had been in for far longer than they should have been. I popped them out and rinsed my eyes and they felt better. I put on my oversized black framed glasses and went back to the mirror. My reflection wasn't sexy librarian, but the look was sexy, nonetheless, but I needed something else. I went back into the bathroom and applied a little blush and light pink lipstick. I went back to the mirror and found that I liked this version of my look. I was too old to be a schoolgirl, but the look was definitely sexy schoolgirl.

I figured that Reilly was straight and I had no illusions that I would be able to get her into my bed. But that didn't mean that I couldn't dream a little. She was beautiful, hot and made my heart quicken, but she was still straight and I didn't need the drama that went along with straight girl experimentation. Then I remembered her little pirouette yesterday and realized that I didn't know what to think.

I looked at the clock and saw that it was about ten minutes until seven. If I left right now, I would be a couple of minutes early and that would be perfect. I was anxious to see her again. I grabbed a bottle of chardonnay and walked to her house. I went around back and before I could knock on the door, Reilly opened it and the vision of her knocked me out.

She had also pulled her hair into a pony tail, similar to mine, but lower and looser. Her shorts were white and skin tight. She had paired them with a gorgeous, teal, silk camisole that brought out her eyes and displayed her curves. It was either cool in the house, or (I hoped) she was excited to see me as her nipples were poking the silk.

My eyes popped and I smiled. "Wow, don't you look dazzling!"

She blushed and giggled. "Thank you, but so do you!" She surprised me by hugging me and holding the hug for a long moment. She whispered in my ear, "I am so happy to see you." Then her lips brushed my cheek. A long contented sigh escaped my lips and she giggled and squeezed a little.

She turned, took my hand, and walked into the kitchen. The first thing that I saw was that all of the construction debris from the living room space was gone. There was a dining room table set with two places in the place of the junk.

"Wow!" I said.

"Yeah," she smiled, "I called Daddy last night and pleaded with him to come and get the junk out of the house. I told him that I had a new friend and I wanted to have her for dinner. He had been resisting until I told him that I had a new friend, he just turned about face and asked what time we would start. He wants me to find a new life, with new friends and the happiness that was taken from me."

I knew something bad had happened to her, but this was the first time she had directly said it. I choked up at that.

She continued, "He was here at seven this morning and we filled his truck three times. I asked him where he took the stuff, because the dump isn't open on Sunday. He's got an old buddy that has helped us with some of the work on my house and he's got a construction site downtown with a huge dumpster. Daddy made arrangements to use the dumpster to get rid of the junk. We did all of that and then got the dining room furniture out of the garage and brought it in here. Then I went to the grocery and bought the items I needed to make you a traditional Irish dinner."

She paused, blushing. "Is that okay?"

I grinned, "Holy Crap! You did a whole lotta work today! You didn't need to go to all of that trouble for me. But an Irish dinner sounds great! What did you make?"

"It wasn't any trouble because it was for you," she whispered and blushed again. "I made shepherds' pie, soda bread and Irish Potatoes for dessert." She said, blushing more deeply and smiling shyly.

"Huh?" I asked. "Irish Potatoes for dessert? Doesn't Shepherd's Pie have potatoes? Not to mention, potatoes for dessert?"

She giggled, "Irish Potatoes are coconut cookies. I'm not sure if they are traditional Irish food or not, but they were in our house."

I just laughed, "Okay, can I help with anything?"

She said, "Why don't you pour the wine?" She handed me two wine glasses.

She plated two servings of the pie and brought it to the table. It looked wonderful. She had cheese on top that was cooked to a golden brown. I noticed when I sat down that there were small bits of brown and gold mixed into the mashed potatoes. I poked at them with my fork, trying to see what they were.

She saw me and sat down. She picked up her wine and said, "Figure it out?"

I jumped, having been caught. I blushed and giggled, "What are those different colored pieces of, umm ..."

She laughed, "That's my own twist on the family recipe. I topped it with cheddar cheese, though Mom does that sometimes. I also crumbled bacon and fried onions in the potatoes. I love fried onions and what food isn't made better with bacon?"

I laughed, "Ain't that the truth!"

She grinned with a little embarrassment. "Though I would never make it like that when Mom is here. She would be horrified."

I laughed again and she looked a little cofuseed. "You're not living unless you're horrifying and embarrassing your mother."

She relaxed and snickered, "I guess that's true."

She sat and looked at me with a contemplative smile on her face. "Do you mind if I say grace? As a Catholic, I'm just not comfortable sitting down to a meal without it."

I sat for a minute and looked at her. "Reilly, I really like you and I want us to be friends. Friendship means to me that you and I are so comfortable with one another that we don't need to ask permission to do things that make us happy. So, from here on, please do whatever you need to do to make yourself happy and I'll do the same. Okay?"

She got a big, warm grin on her face and nodded happily, "Okay!" She bowed her head and said a short simple grace. I bowed my head slightly, too. But I watched her; she had a small smile on her face the whole time. She crossed herself and looked up at me, catching me watching her.

I grinned, embarrassed. "I like watching you."

She blushed from head to toe. "I like having you watch me." She reached out and touched my hand before quickly withdrawing her hand. The statement and touch surprised and pleased me.

"Please eat." She said, looking into my eyes.

"Okay." I murmured. The first bite was heaven.

"This is terrific!" I exclaimed.

She smacked my hand. "Don't sound so surprised."

"I, umm, uhh..." I searched for an apology.

She laughed out loud. "Gotcha!"

I glowered at her, teasingly, "Bitch!"

"There ya go again..." She giggled.

We settled into a nice conversation about her house and how she planned to finish it. We drifted into the homeowner's association and the block parties that were a big part of life in our little neighborhood. We eventually got quiet; arriving at the elephant in the room, Anthony and Reilly's life in Boston. But first, we decided to clean up.

I helped her clear the table, clean up the kitchen and fill the dishwasher. We said little, just worked efficiently, side by side. It felt homey, comfortable.

When we were done, I went back to sit down at the table and Reilly stopped me. "No," she said, "go sit down on the love seat."

I hadn't noticed that she had set up a cozy little arrangement in the corner. There was a leather love seat, a small coffee table with copper accents and a really cool arc floor lamp. It had three copper finished shades and a wood base. The lighting gave a warm, intimate feel.

I took my wine and sat down. I watched Reilly fill her wine glass and then follow me over and sit down. Her shorts seemingly disappeared as she settled into the love seat. I realized that I was staring and jerked my eyes up. Her green eyes were twinkling in amusement.

I could feel the flush start in my scalp and work its way down. I glanced at my arm and it was dark red, so I knew my face was scarlet. I don't know what kept coming over me. I was normally more discreet in my ogling. For whatever reason, Reilly just unhinged me.

I hung my head, "I am sooo embarrassed."

"Don't be," she grinned, "Like I said, I like having you watch me."

We sat quietly for a few minutes, both of us sneaking glances at each other, quickly looking away when our eyes met. Reilly finally held my eyes, took a deep breath and started speaking.

"I asked Daddy about telling you my story." She said. "He thought it was a great idea. He said that he noticed immediately that there was something different about me and after I had told him that I talked to you he thought the changes in me might be due to that." She smiled softly. "He really wants to meet you. He wants to hug the person that got me to really cry and to laugh again."

I was speechless. She shifted in her seat and brought her knees into contact with mine. She set down her wine glass, then took mine and set it down. She turned back to me and took my hands in hers.

"I hope you don't mind," she whispered, "but I feel better holding your hands when I talk."

I picked them up and kissed the back of her hands and said, "Of course I don't mind. In fact, I love it."

(I know, I know. Reilly scared the crap out of me when we met. But, her natural sweetness and vulnerability had pushed away any negative thoughts I may have had about her. I am quite sure I'll never have her in my bed, or hers for that matter, but that doesn't mean we can't be the best of friends.)

She said, "I think the last thing I told you before I went to pieces was that weird things were happening in our home."

I nodded, "I think that's right."

"Anthony had praised me for getting the landlord to fix the light switch," she started. "I looked at him and said, 'What are you talking about?' He laughed and said, 'You know what I'm talking about, that light switch in the bathroom. Sometimes it didn't work at all. You got the landlord to fix it.' I just stared at him and slowly shook my head. He frowned and said, 'Didn't you?' I said, 'No, I didn't, I thought you did. Did you change the light bulb in the hall?' It was his turn to shake his head. 'The door mat? The picture in the living room?' Again, he shook his head. 'Anthony, what the fuck is going on?' He said, 'I don't know.'"

"You guys really didn't have any idea that neither of you were responsible for the little repairs?" I asked.

"No, we didn't." She said, shaking her head. "I told Anthony that maybe Daddy had done it to help out. He asked if I'd given Daddy a key and I hadn't so I said no. Then he asked where Daddy might have gotten a key and I had no idea."

She took a deep breath. "I stopped at Daddy's shop on my way to work the next day and asked him if he had done those things to help out. He smiled and said 'A stór, I'd like to take a bit of credit, but I cannot.' She saw the expression on my face and frowned. "Is something not right?'"

I said, "Umm, uh store? What does that mean?"

She giggled, "It's something he called all of my sisters and me. It means, 'my treasure' in Gaelic. It's something my Daddo used to say."

I grinned, "Daddo?"

She stuck her tongue out at me, "My Grandfather...bitch! It's spelled D-A-I-D-E-Ó with an accent on the o."

I laughed at her. "Uh-huh..."

She shook her head, "Oh, okay, so that's the way it's gonna be..."

I affected my most innocent expression, "What?"

She snorted, more than a little exasperated, "Anyway..."

I suddenly realized that she was having a tough time with this. She had worked her emotions to the point that she was ready to talk about this with me and I was screwing around.

I was contrite as I said, "I'm sorry Reilly. I know this is difficult for you and I am not making it easy. I will stop messin' around."

She suppressed a little grin, "It's okay Kendall. I have missed the teasing that goes along with being close to another person...with a friend."

I smiled brightly, "Are we friends, Reilly?"

She smiled shyly, "Yes...yes we are."

I kissed the back of her hands again, I couldn't help myself. "Good," I said simply.

As she settled our hands back into her lap, a serious expression clouded her face. It was as if she had just remembered something terrible and couldn't allow herself to have any fun. It pained me to see the transformation. It was sudden and complete. Her eyes drifted from my face to our hands and remained there.

"Reilly?" I prodded her gently. "Are you okay?"

She didn't say anything for the longest time, obviously considering my question and her answer. "No, um yes, uhhh, maybe, ahhh, I don't know..." She finally whispered.

"What's wrong?" I wanted to grab her and hold her close, to try and make whatever was wrong all better, but I wasn't sure how she would react. So, I did nothing and it was killing me to see her in obvious pain.

She looked up at me and tears were shining in her eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks. "I don't deserve to have friends, especially one as nice as you." She looked down again.

I was stunned. Whatever had happened to her was obviously terrible, but whatever it was couldn't be so bad that she merited the punishment that she was heaping on herself.

"Reilly, come on, don't put yourself down like that. You are one of the sweetest people I've ever met." I said sincerely. "Whatever happened can't be as bad as all that!"

The tears that had been threatening spilled down Reilly's cheeks. She sobbed. "Yes it is!"

I couldn't stand this any longer; I grabbed her and pulled her into a hug. "No, it's not! I refuse to believe that it's all that bad. I won't believe that you're as terrible as you seem to feel you are."

I gently kissed her forehead and Reilly gave me a tremulous smile. "Thank you Kendall." Her sigh was strained and hesitant, but she settled into my arms and accepted the hug. We sat still for a few minutes; her head snuggled into my neck as I breathed in the fresh, clean scent of her shampoo and conditioner. Finally, she seemed to be ready to separate and started to draw back from me.

But, it seemed as though she wasn't anxious to leave my arms because she looked a little reluctant as she pulled away. She paused as she pulled away, just before burying her face in my neck, pecking me with a couple of soft kisses and hugging me tightly to her. We sat like that for some time, Reilly holding me close and occasionally kissing me on the neck. I tried not to think of this in a sexual context; knowing I was just comforting her, but my body had no desire to listen to my good intentions. My pussy was heating up and since I could smell my arousal, I knew that Reilly could as well. But, to her credit, she ignored my aroma. Finally, she gave me one last, lingering kiss on my neck and sat up.

She turned to me, pressing her knees to mine and drew my hands into hers again. "Thank you again Kendall. I can't tell you what it means to me to have a friend that believes in me so completely. I think I'm ready to tell you the rest of the story." She snickered, "Like Paul Harvey, 'And now, the rest of the story'." I just shook my head and she giggled some more.

She quickly settled into a more somber mood. "Umm, where was I?"

"Your father told you that he didn't make any of the repairs." I said, trying to help.

"Oh, that's right." She said. "When Daddy said that he hadn't done anything, I got scared. I told him that somebody was coming into our house and doing things. He said he'd go out right then and get new door handles with new locks. He also said that I was going with him; he didn't want me alone right then. I reminded him that I was on my way to work and that I would be safe there. I gave him my keys and tried to give him money for the locks, but he wouldn't hear of it. I kissed him on the cheek and left for work. When I got out of my car in the parking garage it was a little weird because there were cars there, but no-one was around. It was then that I heard it for the first time." She stopped and shuddered.

I frowned, "Heard what?"

"At first, I thought I was hearing things, so I kind of ignored it." She said softly. "Then I heard it again and I knew that I wasn't hearing things. It was very faint, like it came from far away, 'Maaary Ka-ate'. I walked faster toward the elevator. Again I heard, 'Maaary Ka-ate' but, this time it sounded closer and I took off running." She giggled, which seemed inappropriate, until she resumed. "I got to the elevator and started stabbing the down button over and over and over, just like in the movies."

I couldn't help myself, I laughed, picturing the scene from a thousand movies and TV shows. She giggled and shrugged.

"When the doors opened I burst through them, scaring the crap out of two nurses that I didn't know and an older pediatrician that I did know. Just as the doors were closing I heard it again, this time it was very close. 'Maaary Ka-ate' and I turned to the other people in the elevator and said, 'Did you hear that?' The nurses ignored me, but Dr. Ellison said, 'I didn't hear anything dear. Is everything all right?' I just nodded and didn't say anything else."

"Oh my god, you must have been so scared!" I exclaimed and squeezed her hands for support.

She smiled gratefully. "I was, I really was. I got up to the nurse's station and called Anthony. He was very sympathetic and asked me if he needed him to come down. I hesitated and then said no. The further it was in the past, the less real it seemed. I felt like I was being silly and that's what I told Anthony. He said, 'It's not silly, you're not silly. You were scared and along with what's going on at home, you need to be careful and a little scared.' Before he hung up he asked, 'Are you sure you don't want me to come down there?' I told him that I loved him and, no he didn't need to come down here. He told me to call him if I needed anything and hung up."

I smiled at her, "Anthony sounds great. So many guys would have minimized how you felt, but it sounds like he was very supportive."

She squeezed my hands, "He was, he really was."

She got up and refilled our wine; I think she was just gathering herself.

She sat back down and took my hands in hers. "I didn't think much about it the rest of the day, but when it came time to leave, I became frightened again. But, nothing happened in the garage and when I got home Daddy was waiting and he had changed the door handles and locks. He even had called a home security company and they would be putting in an alarm system the next day." She stopped and took a swallow of wine.

I smiled at her, trying to get her to smile and she did, but not for very long. "Wow, not only is Anthony amazing, it sounds like your dad is, too."

"Yes," she said, "I am very, very lucky to have had special men in my life." She paused again and closed her eyes. She started speaking again without opening them. "Daddy stayed the night because Anthony had an emergency and couldn't leave. Daddy didn't want me staying alone until the alarms were installed. I went to work and came home without anything else happening. Daddy was still there and Mom had come over and cooked for Daddy, Anthony and me. Anthony came in later, ate and crashed. The poor baby was exhausted. Daddy showed me how the alarms worked and then wrote out instructions for Anthony." She got up again and went to the bathroom.

I was astonished at how close she was with her family, how supportive they all were. I compared that to my life and just shook my head. When I had graduated from college and then with my Masters, my parents were like, 'Cool, well that's done, see ya, have a nice life.' It had nothing to do with me or my lesbianism; they were just ready to move on with their lives. Maybe that's the difference between being an only c***d and being part of a huge family. Until now, I hadn't thought about it, and it made me a little sad and envious, that kind of closeness would have been nice.

When she came back, she snuggled in under my arm, wrapping it around her, surprising me. She intertwined her fingers with mine, kissing each one. I did not object to any degree, but it was something that I didn't expect.

I was so content holding her like this that I was startled when she started speaking. "Anthony got up the next morning and I showed him what Daddy had written out. He was grateful and asked me to tell Daddy thank you. He kissed me and rushed out of the house talking on his cell. We didn't have anything else weird for the next couple of weeks. I was watching for people following me, seeing if I saw anything suspicious, but I didn't."

"So are you like Nancy Drew or Miss Marple? All detectivey?" I asked.

She giggled, "No, and I'm not sure I would've recognized anything out of the ordinary anyway." Then she got serious, "As it turned out, I didn't see what I probably should have, anyway." I looked down at her and tears were rolling down her cheeks again.

"Hey, imagination aside, you were not trained to look for anything, let alone a danger to you or Anthony." I said firmly.

I felt, rather than saw her smile. "That's what the detective said."

She took a deep breath. "Three or four weeks later, when I got home, there were a dozen orange roses in a vase in the middle of the dining room table. They were absolutely beautiful. I figured Anthony had done something sweet and romantic. I went looking for him and he wasn't home. I just figured that he had run out to get something. He called about two hours later and said he was on his way home, there had been an emergency. I fixed something for dinner and waited for him. When he came in and I saw the expression on his face, I knew something was wrong. He said, 'I'm sorry baby, I didn't see him.' I didn't know what he was talking about. 'See who?' I asked. Then a guy that looked familiar stepped into the room. 'Him.' Anthony said. Then I noticed that Anthony's head was bleeding. I started to run to him and the guy raised a gun. 'Don't.' he said. He kicked Anthony in the butt and Anthony sprawled to the floor. The guy said, 'Don't you move.' And Anthony didn't. He looked at me and said, 'I see you got my flowers. As soon as they came in I knew they were for you, Amy.' It just didn't occur to me that he was talking to me, that he thought I was Amy Adams. I looked at him and said, 'Amy? Who the hell is Amy?' He laughed, 'Why you are, silly.' I said, 'What? What is wrong with you? I am Mary Katherine Reilly Hannigan-Riviera.' He laughed, 'That's just the name you by so that your public doesn't intrude. I know you're Amy Adams.' I just stood there with my mouth hanging open. When I gathered myself, I said, 'You are fucking' nuts mister.'"

She took a breath and sat up. Then she jumped up and ran to the bathroom. I heard her throwing up. Then I heard her brushing her teeth. When she came back, she was embarrassed. "I'm so sorry Kendall."

I stopped her there and made her sit down, drawing her into a hug. "Don't be. This has to be terribly hard. I don't want you to tell me anymore. I'm embarrassed that I asked you to tell this, bringing up such a horrible thing from your past."

She pushed away from me and gave me a weak smile. "Honestly, even though I threw up, I feel better. I think this is good for me."

I sat there staring at her. "Okaaay," I said slowly, "only if you're sure."

"He aimed his gun at me and because he was focused on me, he wasn't paying attention to Anthony." Her eyes filled with tears. "Anthony lunged at him, but the guy saw the movement and hit him with the gun again. Anthony went down and the asshole shot him in the chest. Anthony grabbed his chest and the guy shot him in the balls. Anthony stopped moving then. The guy walked over and stood over him, pointing the gun at his chest. I grabbed a frying pan off of the stove and even though he must have seen me out of the corner of his eye and started to turn, he wasn't quick enough and I hit him in the head. He dropped the gun, staggered and fell down; I snatched it up and emptied it into his chest. He fell onto Anthony and I threw the gun down and dragged him off of Anthony. Anthony was barely breathing and he struggled to open his eyes. He said, 'I'm sorry babe' and tried to say something else before he stopped breathing. I was screaming and crying and I started CPR and was still doing it when the police burst through the door. They had paramedics with them and they made me stop and they took over. The paramedics worked on Anthony for about fifteen minutes more before one of them looked at a cop and shook his head. I screamed, 'No, please God, no,' and that's all I remember. I woke up in the hospital, handcuffed to the bed."

I was shocked, not so much that Reilly had shot the maniac, I actually kind of expected that, but by the fact that she had been arrested. I said as much, "I can't believe they arrested you, that's outrageous!"

She actually laughed at my statement. "Yeah, that's what Daddy thought and he told the cops in no uncertain terms what he thought every time he came into the room and saw the handcuffs. I kinda felt bad for the uniformed guys because they took the brunt of his anger, but they were actually pretty good guys. After I had woken up and been informed of my rights and the charges, every time I was alone