Just as she was about to topple headlong over the railing, his arm was firmly around her, pulling Annette swiftly back onto unsteady feet.

"Where'd he go? I swear he's going to get it this time!" Annette's eyes flashed with a brilliant emerald fire as she jumped forward on her toes, fist cocked in too-familiar frustration. "My Lord, that little brother of mine is going to be the death of someone around here if he doesn't start being more aware of his surroundings. And you! -- the exact opposite -- where'd you come from? You ere in the garden the last time I heard you, which, by the way, is doing wonderfully. You are a magician and a Godsend, Ethan."

Annette smoothly took his proferred arm, letting him lead her to the shade at the back of the long porch. Her face turned up toward his, still flushed, but quickly returning to its usual rich cream. "Would you like some lemonade, Ethan? I made it fresh this morning." Her hands unerringly grasped the pitcher and poured a glass, then paused expectantly. Ethan nodded, then noticed her waiting and quickly spoke.

"Who could pass up something from your famous kitchen?" Annette beamed as she poured the second glass, filling it just to the top. She took both glasses in hand and offered one up to where Ethan still stood.

"You are allowed to sit once in awhile, y'know." Her voice took on a gentle chiding tone, then softened. "You know I can't thank you enough for the work you do around here, but you really should take it easier. Go out! Have some fun. You're too young to be so serious."

"And you're not, Annette? You're only four year older than I am. If I had something better to do, I promise you I'd be at it." He tuned to look out over the bright flowerbeds crossed with stone paths that circled the old house. It was a small plantation house for back when, but it was a big house by modern standards. A good-sized lawn still circled it, with an orchard in back and a long, empty driveway in front leading to the shaded street.

A frown creased her brow, and one of her long-fingered hands pushed back her wavy mass of heavy, red hair. "I just feel like I'm taking advantage of you. I can't pay you as much as I'd like to…"

He took the glass from her hand, cradling it. He looked about nervously, before beginning, "No one else could ever teach me the way you can. That, to me, is priceless. You have a gift for music that's unparalleled, and if you think that the chance for me to develop even the minutest fraction of your talent isn't worth working more hours than there are in a day, then you sorely underestimate both your ability and my desire," his dark eyes softened as he looked at her and a grin touched him as he added, "m'lady."

"I'm sorry. I know we've gone through this before." An old weariness settled in her visage. "Thank God and my parents, peace to their souls, I haven't too much to worry about but some minor bills, but I do wish I could do more for my brother especially." She let out a light sigh, then settled back in her chair, a smile returning to brighten her face as a cool, spring breeze picked up.

"You worry too much. You do great, really." He spoke softly, his eyes betraying a sadness that she would never see. "You are -- quite remarkable, Annette."

The doctors had long since determined that Annette never would or could see, not that the average observer would ever register her blindness. She moved with an ease that only the rare unsighted person ever achieves. It was easy to forget her disability, which made her limitations that much harder to accept.

The few battles she had to fight over her disability, she addressed with dignity and forbearance. The issue of her brother's custody two years previous was one of these. The honorable state of Virginia felt that a twenty-two-year-old blind woman who rarely went out of her small town was not the best guardian for a lively nine-year-old boy. Though the loss of their parents was a sudden blow, Annette set aside her own grief to care for her brother Darren's sake. He barely knew the distant Californian relatives the state wanted to pack him off to, and he was terrified at the prospect of leaving the only home he'd ever known. To add to the potential heartache, Annette wouldn't have been able to join him there, at least for a few years. To sway the case in Annette's favor, Ethan had given a key testimonial. Many other friends and neighbors had as well. While a social worker still visited monthly, it was more of a social call than work now.

Annette came out of her reverie slowly, "Only because of you." A surprised look flickered behind her lashes before she finished, "And all of the others here who supported Darren and I. We wouldn't be here without y'all." The faint blush in her cheeks receeded under the veil of her composure before Ethan turned back from watching Darren dash around the corner toward the back.

"You can't think that way. You're working constantly. You teach lessons, play for the church and theatre, and you give those concerts all the time. You would be just fine on your own. I f you are that worried, you could do more performances; it's not like you don't have the offers." He gestured in frustration toward the mailbox at the bottom of the porch steps.

"I can't leave Darren here." A pained expression crossed her features, her voice set and hands clasped in her lap, she went on, "No, my career is on hold for now until I can leave him here for short periods or take him with me. He's just too young for that kind of life yet. Our parents have only been gone two years." She shook her head, determination set in her lips, "He needs stability and safety. He can't afford for anything to happen to me, too." Her eyes returned to Ethan's direction, "Travelling isn't the safest thing for the blind alone in a big city. Here it barely shows, I know, but out there," one delicate arm curved out toward the hills in the distance, "it's different. I'm prey. I've done it before and will again, but it's just too large a risk for now, for Darren."

Ethan's attention fixed on her face while he struggled for words. "I could always stay here with him if you wanted me to."

Surprise returned to Annette's face, mixed with curiosity. "Really? I mean I still couldn't leave longer than one night, but then," a faint relief relaxed her poise, "even being able to do that a few times a month would -- make things a lot easier." She smiled broadly, "And I could finally pay you at least a calculable portion of what your help is worth to me."

Pain etched itself deeply in the lines of Ethan's face. His voice cracked in betrayal as he sank into one of the white, wicker chairs, "Annette…"

Concern clouded her face, "What's wrong, Ethan?" She moved her chair closer to his, listening intently to his breathing. "Ethan, are you crying?"

He shook his head, dark hair catching and flinging the tears into the air. He took her hands in his trembling ones. "Annette," a pause lengthened as he tried to steady his voice, "it's not now, nor has ever been your money I've been interested in. I'd give it back now if you'd take it. It's been sitting in a separate bank account, untouched for these last for years, and it will stay there until you take it back or I turn it over to Darren someday for college."

Shocked disbelief dropped her chin. "What -- is -- does music mean that much to you?" Her eyes blinked repeatedly in an empty stare. Sobs echoed from him, his forehead falling on their mingled hands. A flicker of understanding came to her, and she took one hand to pass through his hair and over his damp face, lifting it toward hers.

"It -- it's you Annette. The music is only part of it, of you. I -- love -- all of you. The wisdom, the grace, the humor, the caring…" He broke off. "I -- I've never been able to say it, and when your parents dies in that car accident… I tried to do whatever I could until…" When his eyes lifted, he saw her shoulders were trembling, and he quickly wiped away the tear painting a trail down her cheek.

He blurted out, "I'm sorry! I should have kept quiet longer -- forever, maybe. The last thing I wanted to do was make you cry." He swallowed, looking between the sidewalk and her tear-stained features and muted sounds came from her.

"No! no, Ethan. I'm just -- overwhelmed! -- ecstatic, even." She coughed out a tentative smile. "It -- never occurred to me that anyone -- especially you -- could possibly -- love? -- me -- like that. It's an entirely new concept to me." She felt her way along her words, groping in a true darkness, testing each phrase as it came out. "I should apologize to you. I've just realized I unintentionally put up so many barriers. I kept turning you away when I surely didn't mean to. You have to believe that it's the -- last -- thing I wanted to do. I -- never even thought -- that you could -- too. When there's so much else out there…"

"I know what's out there, Annette, and I'm not interested. I never have been."

"I don't know what I could be to deserve this of you, but I love you, too, Ethan. I'm sorry for pushing you away so long."

"You didn't, and you couldn't have." He pulled her into his arms and held her for long moments. Letting both their tears subside and relief take over.

"It's about time you two said the L-word." Darren's voice pierced through the screen door with words that surely had been mentally tested a hundred times. Ethan jumped and turned to the grinning face peeking out from near the floor of the front hall, but Annette just laughed.

Darren's face twisted into a distasteful scowl. "I hope this doesn't mean you're gonna get all mushy with each other all the time now."

Ethan squeezed Annette's hand and winked to Darren, "I should be so lucky."


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