Caitlan caught on to the woman's ploy. "Debbie, I don't need a petticoat-"

"Oh, come on, Caitlan," she chided her gently. "All us women like to wear pretty things under our clothes." Debbie lifted the skirt of her simple green pastel dress to show off the petticoat she wore, a cotton slip edged in a row of lacy feminine ruffles. An impish grin creased Debbie's mouth. "Kirk thinks they're sexy."

Caitlan truly didn't need the frilly undergarment, but Debbie was a woman on a mission, and by the gleam in her eyes Caitlan knew this was one argument she would lose. Be honest with yourself, Caitlan. You want to look pretty for J.T. You like the thought that he might find you sexy.

Goodness, when had she become such a brazen angel? And did she have the right to play with the flames J.T. created between them, and possibly kindle an out-of-control bonfire? The emotions stirring within her for J.T. went beyond anything in her experience as a guardian angel, and the urge to follow those intimate feelings overruled her usually good judgment.

Just for today she'd indulge herself and wear the skirt and petticoat. What harm could there be in that?

"I know it's in here somewhere," Debbie mumbled, pushing past hangers of clothes on the wooden rod.

As Caitlan watched Debbie, another premonition swept through her, so commanding in its force, she couldn't ignore the awareness demanding her immediate attention. Surreptitiously, she glanced around the room, searching for a clue to explain her apprehension.

Her gaze drifted from the king-sized bed covered in a patchwork quilt and then onto an old mahogany armoire against the far wall. A matching vanity and stool occupied the other side of the room. Typical bedroom furnishings.

A vision whispered at the edge of Caitlan's consciousness, a pull so undeniable she automatically closed her eyes to bring it into focus. After a few seconds of intense concentration the backside of a young girl appeared, her short height giving the illusion of a six or seven year old. Long blond hair streamed from an elaborate straw hat, and at first Caitlan thought it was Brittany or Alisha. The girl was in this room, playing dress-up in front of a large oval standing mirror, admiring the sophisticated dress overflowing on her tiny body and the too large, wobbly high heels on her feet.

"Amanda Marie, are you into my things again?" a woman chastised gently, coming into the room.

The little girl whirled around, smiling sweetly, "Momma, I only want to look as pretty as you when we go to church today."

A maelstrom of emotions swelled within Caitlan, strangely enough, for the woman who seemed to be Amanda's mother. The woman took Amanda into her arms in a loving hug, and the tenderness of the embrace wrapped around Caitlan like a soft, warm blanket.

"Amanda," Caitlan murmured, confused by her latest vision.

The medallion tingled hotly between Caitlan's breasts, bringing her back to reality. When she opened her eyes she found Debbie looking at her oddly, the petticoat folded over her arm. Oh, goodness, Caitlan thought, how long had Debbie been watching her?

Debbie tilted her head to the side, scrutinizing her. "J.T. told you about Amanda?"

The tinge of disbelief Caitlan heard in Debbie's tone made her wary. "Yes. Why?"

Debbie gave Caitlan a speculative glance. "I'm just surprised, is all. He hasn't talked about Amanda since the night she died."

Yet he'd told her, a stranger, the whole story. Caitlan shivered slightly when she remembered experiencing the tragic car accident that had claimed Amanda's life. She still didn't understand the significance of that vision, or any of the others. She seemed to hold a key to J.T.'s past, but why did she have access to J.T.'s history with Amanda? She'd never been able to tap into a ward's memories before.

Debbie handed Caitlan the petticoat, her gaze probing and full of questions. "Did J.T. tell you this used to be Amanda's parents' house?"

"No." Amanda's house. Another shiver cascaded down Caitlan's spine. Holding the two skirts close to her chest, she forgot about the dampness of her jeans and that she needed to change. "Why do you and Kirk live here?"

Debbie sat down on the edge of the bed. "About a year and a half after Amanda's death her father died of a heart attack, leaving Amanda's mother all alone. Mrs. Hamilton was so devastated by the loss of Amanda and her husband that she put the place up for sale. She told me the memories were too painful for her to stay, and she wanted to live with her sister in Connecticut."

Shaking her head, Debbie smoothed her hand over the quilt, a reminiscent smile curving her mouth. "J.T. went a little crazy when he found out Mrs. Hamilton was going to sell the place, since this property adjoins Rafferty land. J.T. said he didn't want strangers living in Amanda's house. He was only twenty-one at the time, but he worked out a deal with Mrs. Hamilton, and my father co-signed a loan for him. J.T. bought the place.

"Funny thing is, J.T. couldn't bring himself to live here. Even when he married Stacey he still stayed at the main house. When Kirk and I got married he let us take over the payments, and he signed the deed over to us as a wedding gift."

The depth of J.T.'s love for Amanda astounded Caitlan. "It doesn't seem to bother J.T. to come here."

"No, it doesn't," Debbie agreed. "I think he just wanted the house to stay in the family, because Amanda was like a part of our family. We were neighbors all our lives. She was J.T.'s girlfriend for years, and my best friend since we were toddlers." Debbie's gaze skimmed over the clothes she'd just given Caitlan, then lifted back up to Caitlan's face. "We used to wear each other's clothes all the time, except Amanda was a little shorter and had a cuter shape, much like yourself," she reflected thoughtfully.

Caitlan fingered the soft chambray material in her arms. "Well, I appreciate you lending me your clothes."

"I'm happy to do it." Hesitating briefly, Debbie glanced covertly at Caitlan, as if sizing her up. Her speculative smile reached her eyes. "I think you're good for J.T., Caitlan. I know this is presumptuous of me, considering you've only been here a few days, but have you and J.T… I mean, are you and J.T… " She flushed and pressed her hands to her cheeks. "Oh, never mind!"

Caitlan laughed softly at Debbie's apparent embarrassment. "Are you trying to ask if J.T. and I are involved?"

"I know it's none of my business," Debbie rushed on, the color from her cheeks fading. "And you don't have to answer, but J.T. has changed in the short time you've been here."

Caitlan couldn't help wondering about that, even though she had to admit she'd seen a softening in him the last day or so, since the incident at the creek. "In what way?"

"I noticed the biggest change today." Debbie shrugged and picked at a piece of lint on the quilt. "It's the way he watches you. He seems so relaxed and at ease." She struggled for the right words. "There isn't that loneliness in his eyes that always makes me ache for him, an emptiness like he's lost a part of himself he can't find. Today, his eyes are clear and his smiles are genuine. You're good for him, Caitlan," she said softly, earnestly. "I knew that the first time I saw you and him together."

Caitlan lifted a brow at Debbie. What was it with his family conspiring to matchmake her and J.T.? "I care for your brother, but I'll be leaving Idaho soon." Why did the thought make her feel so forlorn?

"You can always visit, and you might find you like it here."

Not two days ago she'd heard the same lecture from J.T.'s daughter. "Have you been talking to Laura?" she teased.

Debbie smiled. "No. I just know it takes a special kind of woman to adapt to life in the country, and you fit in well. You seem happy here."

"I am happy here." And content. Caitlan sensed she belonged here in a way she couldn't fully define; she only knew J.T. was the reason. Then reality put things back into perspective. "But that doesn't mean I belong here."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that." Debbie shook her head, an apologetic look crossing her features. Standing, she grabbed Caitlan's hand and squeezed it affectionately. "I'm sorry, this is really none of my business, but I know J.T. better than anyone, and it's good to see him so carefree and happy."

Caitlan backed away subtly, knowing it was best if they let the subject drop. "Well, I guess I'd better change."

"Yeah." Debbie grinned ruefully. "Sorry; I didn't mean to go on and on. You're very easy to talk to, just like Amanda was. She's been gone sixteen years, but I still miss her friendship."

Caitlan managed a smile for Debbie's compliment, but couldn't shake off the sensation of being suffocated. Disturbing impressions of Amanda crowded in on her until she wanted to run from this room and out of this house. She needed to change and get outside so she could breath in fresh air and clear her head. "Where can I change?" she asked, startled by the strangled sound of her voice.

"Go ahead and use my bathroom." Debbie waved a hand toward a connecting door. "I'll meet you outside. I'm sure the guys are wondering what happened to us. Maybe if we're real lucky they cleaned up the kitchen, but I won't pin my hopes on that too much."

Caitlan forced a light laugh and agreed, even though everything in her coiled up as tight as a spring, ready to snap at any given moment. Once Caitlan stepped inside the bathroom, she closed the door and leaned against it, willing her taut body to relax and the images taunting her mind to cease. Gradually, with each slow breath she drew, her throbbing head began to ease.

Pushing off her damp jeans, Caitlan slipped on first the petticoat, and then the matching chambray skirt, vowing that this niggling feeling of hers wouldn't ruin her day.