"I love you, pumpkin," he said. "Whatever it is, you can tell me." "Daddy..." It felt so strange to her to say that word after so many years. "Dad. I've done things...I mean..." She looked down the path unable to make eye contact. "I...I'm not a virgin."

"I suppose I'm too late for the father-daughter chat, hmm?" he said, gently squeezing her against him. "I hope you used protection and that you cared for him."

"You'll love me no matter what?" she asked, feeling her throat tighten as the lake came into view.

"No matter what," he said.

Grace disengaged herself and sat down on a fallen log. She rested her elbows on her knees and stared at the ground. "I don't know if I can tell you this."

He sat down next to her. "I suppose you're too old to sit on my lap?"

She nodded. "At least six years," she said. "But..." She lifted his arm and he shifted closer, allowing her to rest her head against his chest. "You always wore flannel," she said, inhaling the scent of her father's cologne and smiling at the memories it evoked.

"That's what you get for having a lumberjack for a father," he said. "But you graduate from college and I'll buy whatever suit you want me to wear. Come here." He pulled her closer, then kissed the top of her head. "You want to talk about it?"

She shook her head. "Not now," she said, snuggling against his chest. "But sometime, maybe."

"Whenever you're ready," he said, stroking her hair. "Anything you want to tell me."

"Anything?"

"Anything," he repeated, giving her a gentle squeeze. "So, any boyfriends?"

Grace smiled and rubbed her cheek against the soft flannel. "No."

"Girlfriends?"

Her head shot up. "Why would you say that?"

He chuckled and pulled her back against his chest. "You said no to a boyfriend so there's really only one other option unless you plan on going into the nunnery."

"I don't have a girlfriend either," she said. "Would it bother you if I did?"

"I told you," he said, rubbing her upper arm. "If you're happy, that's what matters."

Grace was quiet for several moments before gathering up the courage to speak. "Dad? What if I told you I think I'm gay?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?" He gently rubbed her shoulder. "I love you, Grace. You can't help who you love and if being a lesbian feels right to you then that's just the way it is," he said, kissing the top of her head. "You're old enough to know how you feel about that."

Taking a deep breath, she brushed her cheek against the red flannel of her father's shirt. "It does feel right," she said.

"So tell me," he said softly.

"I'm...I'm a lesbian, Dad."

"And you're still my little girl and I love you," he said, his blond beard scratching her forehead. He released her from his embrace and swung his leg over the log so he was facing her. Using his thumb, he wiped away the moisture on Grace's cheek. "Of course no one will ever be good enough for you in my eyes," he said, causing her to smile. "Does your mother know?"

Grace shook her head. "No."

"Why?"

She straddled the log, then began picking at the bark. "We don't talk about things like that." A sliver of bark went flying. "Ever." Another piece. "Even when..." The pain, still so close to the surface, threatened to bubble over. "Even when I told her, she wouldn't believe me," she said, her fist coming down hard on the log. "I told her and she fucking didn't believe me."

"I'll believe you," her father said, covering her fist with his hands.

"You can tell me."

"I can't." Despite her earlier words to the contrary, she climbed onto his lap, feeling his strong arms holding her safe. "I love you, Dad," she said, burying herself against him. "Please don't make me go back and live with them. Please."

"Your mother?"

Grace nodded and sniffed. "And her asshole boyfriend." She gripped handfuls of flannel. "He...he..." She shook her head. "I can't go back there."

Richard let out a deep breath and hugged her tightly. "Will you answer a question for Daddy? Pumpkin, did he touch you?" She let out a strangled cry and burst into tears, her control breaking. "Okay," he said, rocking his sobbing daughter. "You don't have to go back there. We'll work it out. Shh. Daddy's got you."

"Don't make me go back."

"I won't," he said.

She sniffled and gripped his shirt tighter. "I can't. He's too strong. I…I…”

"Okay," he said tenderly. "Shh. You're not going back there. I promise." His gentle words and comforting embrace gave Grace the cocoon of safety she needed to let out the tears if not the words.

Carey rolled over and opened her eyes, realizing the sound she was hearing was not part of a dream. It took a few more seconds for her to wake up enough to determine the cause of the keening cry. Grace. Hopping out of bed, she moved to the living room. "Grace," she said softly, reaching for the lamp. The light showed the teen twisted in the blankets, her face wet with tears. "Grace," she said louder, kneeling down next to the couch. "Come on, you're having a bad dream." Without thought she reached out and stroked the young woman's hair. "It's all right, Grace." The cries became more desperate and Carey had to back up when the teen's arms began thrashing about. "Grace. Grace, wake up now."

"No...help, help! No!" Grace shot up into a sitting position, eyes wild.

"Shh, Grace, it's just a bad dream," Carey said, putting her hand on the teen’s shoulder. Slowly the blue eyes focused on her. "Easy now, just a bad dream."

"Oh God," Grace whispered, burying her face in her hands. "It seemed so real." Carey remained quiet, giving her time to form her thoughts. "It felt like I was right there." Grace took a shuddering breath, then another. "It was so real. I just..."

"Keep going," Carey urged, gently rubbing the upset young woman's shoulder. "It won't stop until you let it out."

The teen shook her head, tears leaking out between her fingers. "I can't."

"Yes you-can," Carey said.

Grace fought to control herself, then laid back down, her tears glistening in the lamplight. "I'll be okay," she sniffed. "Sorry I woke you."

"It's all right you woke me," Carey said, pulling the covers up over the teen. "But as for being okay..." She tucked the blanket around Grace's shoulder. "That won't happen until you stop giving him control over you and talk about it. Grace, did you tell your father what happened?"

Fresh tears leaked from upset blue eyes as the teen nodded. "A little. I couldn't tell him all of it, I just..." She closed her eyes and shook her head. "It hurts."

"I know it does," Carey said, using the corner of the sheet to wipe the tears from Grace's face. "And the more you fight it the more it's going to hurt until you get it out. You deserve to get past this," she said, giving Grace's shoulder one last squeeze before standing up. "You really do." She walked over to the lamp, turning the knob and sending the room into darkness. "Try to get some rest," she said, fighting the urge to sit in the recliner until Grace fell asleep.

"Thanks, um...ma'am."

Carey smiled in the darkness. "Instructor Carey doesn't fit any better at a time like this, does it?"

"No," Grace said. "Joanna doesn't seem right either."

Moving to the archway, Carey leaned against the wall. "My friends just call me Carey. Between us and only in private," she said.

"Of course."

"Now go to sleep."

"Good night...Carey."

"Night, Grace."

Grace showed up at formation seconds before Instructor Gage called Attention, saving her from having to speak to Latisha or Jan. The words being said might as well have been in Hungarian for all the meaning they had to her, empty sounds fluttering through the air. Unfortunately for her, there was no way to avoid conversation at breakfast. She mumbled hellos to those that greeted her but kept her eyes down and on her tray as she moved through the line.

"Hey girlfriend," Latisha said when Grace arrived at the table, tray in hand.

"Hey," Grace said without enthusiasm.

"What's the matter, Scary on your case again?" Jan asked.

"Just tired," Grace said, keeping her eyes on her tray and not on her friends.

"Too bad," Jan said. "So what do you think, is Short Shit going to have us run five miles today?"

"Who cares," Grace said. "Pass the syrup."

"Who put the boot up your ass?" Jan asked as she handed Grace the squeeze bottle.

"I told you, I'm tired," Grace said, putting the bottle on the table with more force than necessary. "Could they water the syrup down just a little more?" she said, stabbing at the waffle. "Of course they wouldn't need to if they'd make the food at least partially edible," she said, her voice rising. "What the hell is it with the damn waffles?" She let the fork drop. "They're not that fucking difficult to make."

"Oh yeah," Latisha said, making a circle with her forefinger and thumb. "Sure, Grace. Just tired. What did Scary do to you this morning?"

"Nothing," Grace said, pushing her tray away. "Just drop it, okay?"

"Damn, get the girl some coffee," Campbell said.

"You want coffee?" Jan asked.

"Do I look like I want coffee?" Grace pushed her tray away. "Oh, forget it. I'm not hungry anyway."

"Is there a problem here, ladies?

"No, Instructor Donaldson," Grace said, rising from her seat. "I'm just leaving, ma'am."

"You haven't touched your food," Donaldson said, pressing down on her shoulder. "Sit."

"Yes, ma'am," Grace said in a resigned tone, giving her friends a dirty look as she sat down. The table was silent until Donaldson left.