He stepped out into the night. He was glad it was dark. At least in the shadows, he could pretend to hide from the pain.

Sandy drew her knees to her chest and rocked back and forth. It was late, well past midnight, but she wasn't sleepy. Who could think of sleeping at a time like this? Her world was crumbling around her and she didn't know how to make it stop.

Questions, images and words filled her mind. She was torn between pain and rage. How dare Kyle say those things to her? How dare he tell her that Lindsay deserved the punishment she got? How dare he say she was afraid to love, that she used her high standards to keep the world at bay?

He'd asked her to marry him. Actually, he'd only taunted her with a proposal, mentioning it, then withdrawing it before she could refuse him. Marriage. She'd never thought about that. Well, that wasn't exactly true. Of course she'd thought about getting married. She'd fantasized about a civilized arrangement with someone much like herself. Someone who understood the importance of being responsible.

She could see them sharing the Sunday paper, then going over their schedules for the coming week. But when she tried to picture the man's face, she could only see Kyle and he would never allow her to organize much of anything. No doubt he would grab the part of the paper he wanted and go watch the game on TV. But when she walked in front of him, he would pull her onto his lap and kiss her into oblivion, making her forget her lists and schedules, everything but the joy of being with him.

She'd never thought about marrying Kyle. Why? Because what she'd said was true. That she'd always pictured him with young pretty girls, not a mature woman like herself. But was that about Kyle, or was that about her?

She shifted on the sofa, feeling uncomfortable at the thought of having to face her own inadequacies. It wasn't Kyle, she admitted in a painfully, honest confession. She didn't think he was that shallow. It was her. She was the one with the stretch marks and not-so-perky butt. She was the one who used her organized life-style to convince herself and the world that she wasn't lonely and didn't desperately want someone to share her heart with.

Had Kyle really said he loved her? A single tear slipped down her cheek. She brushed it away impatiently. What was she crying about? So he loved her? So what? It didn't mean anything. He wasn't the right one.

Who better?

The question came unexpectedly. She didn't have an answer. Who better, indeed. Who would love her more fully, more honestly? He hadn't had to tell her that Travis had been the one to approach the store manager about Lindsay. While she was here, alone, and there was no one to hear her confession, she was willing to admit she agreed with Kyle. It would have been better for Lindsay to face the full consequences of what she'd done. In the station she, Sandy, had reacted without thinking. She'd been scared and the fear had made her say ugly things. She'd wanted to blame someone other than herself and Kyle had been convenient.

She closed her eyes and remembered the first moment she'd seen him riding up on his motorcycle. He'd stolen her breath away. When he'd turned out to be kind, good to her kids and possibly interested in her, she hadn't known what to think. She hadn't had enough self-confidence to believe it was real, so she'd made sure it wasn't. She'd pushed him away at every chance because she'd been afraid he was playing with her. Ordinary women like her didn't get that lucky. They didn't attract the Kyle Hayneses of the world.

She hadn't wanted to believe he was different, so she'd convinced herself he was just like Thomas. Even when everything he did proved otherwise. She hadn't been willing to take a step of faith, so she'd lost her one chance at happiness.

A soft sound on the stairs caught her attention. She opened her eyes and turned toward the noise. Lindsay crept into the room.

With her long hair loose around her shoulders, and a sleeveless cotton nightgown falling to her calves, her oldest child looked closer to six than thirteen. Big brown eyes, Thomas's eyes, stared at her.

"What's wrong?" Sandy asked.

Lindsay hovered by the edge of the couch. She twisted her fingers together. "I couldn't sleep. Are you still mad at me?"

"No." Sandy held out her arms. "I'm not."

Lindsay dived onto the sofa and cuddled next to her. Her firstborn, the one who tried so hard to be grown-up and mature, buried her head in her mother's shoulder and sobbed.

"I'm s-sorry, Mommy," she said, her voice broken and contrite. "I didn't mean to do anything bad. I swear I didn't. I swear."

"I know." Sandy stroked her hair. "Hush, baby. It's going to be all right."

"It's not, but I'm going to do everything I can to fix it. I want to, Mommy."

Sandy knew she would go from "Mommy" back to "Mo-om" soon enough, but for the moment, she enjoyed the closeness.

"Tell me what happened," Sandy said. "I want to hear your side of the story."

Lindsay raised her head and stared at her. She brushed away her tears. "You never want to hear my side of anything," she said, obviously surprised.

"That's not true," Sandy said automatically, then wondered if it was. She knew she was pretty strict with her kids, but she didn't think she'd forgotten to listen to them. "Maybe it is true." She didn't want it to be. She made a vow it wouldn't be true anymore. "Tell me now, okay?"

"I will, but…" Lindsay picked at the hem of her nightgown.

"But what?"

"Could you please not ask me why. You ask that a lot and I don't always know why I do something. Sometimes I just do it and then it's done and I can't take it back."

She smiled at her daughter. "Believe me, I understand that more than you think. So what happened with those girls?"

Lindsay leaned against her mother's shoulder and talked about the two friends she'd made at camp. "I liked them a lot because they were, you know, older. There were a couple of other girls I met. They weren't as cool. I sort of liked them more, but I wanted to be popular." She grimaced, "Going to jail isn't going to make anyone like me."

"Don't worry, you're not going to jail."

Lindsay glanced up at her. "You'll get me a good lawyer? Like on TV?"

"You're not going to need one. Go on with your story."

Lindsay sighed. "When we got back from camp, there wasn't anything to do around here. I started hanging out with them. Millie wanted to go to the mall. She said there was a way to get clothes without having a lot of money. At first I thought she meant, like, you know, a sale or something. Then she said she wanted to steal them."

Lindsay sat up straight. "I knew it was wrong and I told her I didn't want to do it. So I walked away, but I was still looking at things in the store. Then Pam came and got me and we started walking out. Millie handed me the bag and told me to carry it." She looked at her mother. Her mouth trembled. "I didn't know the clothes were stolen." She grimaced. "I think I sorta knew, but I didn't want them to be. I didn't know what to do. I almost dropped them and ran out, but I got embarrassed, so I just carried them out." She lowered her head to her chest. "Then Mr. Porter came running after us. He grabbed us and called the police." She shuddered. "You know what happened after that."

"It's okay, baby," Sandy said, drawing her close again.

Lindsay came willingly. "I'll never forget the look on Kyle's face. He wasn't angry or anything, but he looked real disappointed. Like he'd expected more of me. At first, I thought he was going to let me go. I didn't want him to tell you because I knew you'd kill me. But he said he couldn't do that. He said I had to face what I'd done. I was crying and everything. I said some pretty mean things to him."

"Yeah, me too," Sandy said softly.

Lindsay had acted foolishly, but her heart had been in the right place. Blake was healing from his father's neglect, even little Nichole was more cheerful than ever. Sandy wanted to say the improvements were because of her, or their new environment, but she knew it was Kyle's influence that had changed their lives for the better.

"Have you decided what my punishment is?" Lindsay asked cautiously.

"You won't be able to see either of your friends again, but to make that easy, they're both going back home."

"What else?"

"Nothing."

Lindsay sat up straight. "Nothing? But aren't you mad? What about grounding me, or no TV or no dessert or something?"

Sandy shook her head. "Sorry. You're going to have to live without punishment this week, kid. I know you didn't set out to steal anything. You made a bad decision under pressure. I think you've learned a lot from the experience. If it ever happens again, then life as you know it will cease to exist." She smiled. "For now, though, you're off the hook."

"Wow! Mom, I'm impressed." Her happiness faded. "Unless I have to go to jail."

"I told you, no jail. Travis called the store manager, and the charges have been dropped."

"Really?" Lindsay flung herself at her mother and hugged her tight. "That's great." She scooted back, then grimaced. "Are you still mad at Kyle?"

"How did you know I was?" Sandy asked, wondering if any of the children had heard them tonight.

"I was in the room when you asked Travis to take Kyle off my case." Lindsay sighed. "It's not his fault he had to arrest me, Mom. He was just doing his job."

"How do you know that?"

Lindsay shrugged. "He told me it was hard for him to do it. I didn't want to believe him, but there was this look on his face. Like he was going to cry or something. Guys don't cry, do they?"

Sandy rose to her feet and crossed to the window. There was only one light on in the living room, so she could make out some shapes in the yard. Down the driveway was the faint outline of Kyle's house. It was dark. Was he sleeping tonight, or was he lying awake thinking of all that they'd said to each other?