"Okay. So where are we off to?"

It took a moment for Emma to mount Vesta -she was a moving target-but soon they were on their way down the lane, side by side at an easy walk.

"I thought we'd go over through the old Weaverton property and down to the creek, then back up along the Martins' field to the woods. Sound like a plan?"

Leelee remained quiet for a moment. Then she said, "I suppose you're going to talk to me about that man."

Emma risked a glimpse at Leelee. She was sitting rigid in her saddle, her gaze straight ahead, the afternoon sun glinting in the honey-gold twists of her hair.

"His name is Thomas."

"Thomas the Tongue," she said wearily. "I suppose he's the flower guy?"

"Yes."

"Are we going to talk about sex now?" With that question, Leelee swung her face to look at Emma, and her mouth was clenched tight, her eyes were hard and her cheeks pink.

"Would you like to talk about sex?"

"No, I would not. I'd prefer a 'don't ask, don't tell' policy with you, if you don't mind-you know, a nice change of pace from Mom. Besides, it's none of my business."

Emma let that comment sink in for a moment and weighed the possible responses. She wanted to do this right, this whole parental guidance and open communication thing. But what was right? This was one of those moments when she wished Leelee had come with an owner's manual.

"In a way, you're correct-it's not your business. But I told you I wouldn't make any decisions without you."

Leelee let loose with a snort of disgust. "Really? Looks like you were making decisions just fine on your own last night."

Emma didn't know what to say.

"And did you check out the guy's dog? It was totally woo-woo-like a midget hyena in a sweater. I'd give anything to have a dog like that-it was the funkiest thing I've ever seen. A little bit of L.A. right here in Mayberry, RFD."

Leelee's words hit Emma with a thud. When had Leelee seen Hairy? How long had she been standing at the door?

"How long were you watching us?"

"Long enough to see you work it, girl."

"That's enough, Leelee." Emma didn't know whether to slap her or pull her close and try to kiss away all the pain-twelve years of accumulated insecurity and loneliness-and that was the central challenge of Leelee. Yet another human being with a case of fear-based aggression. It reminded her of Thomas.

And then it dawned on her. She looked over at the young woman and nearly laughed out loud at the resemblance. Tall, golden, smart, funny, pessimistic, sad-if it weren't for the fact that Thomas had never met Rebecca Weaverton, Emma would be certain she'd uncovered the secret of Leelee's paternity.

Or maybe he had met Becca…

Leelee shot her a suspicious glance. "What?"

"I don't know-nothing, I guess."

"What, Emma? You're giving me this totally weird look."

She shook her head and chuckled. "I like him, Lee. That's what I was thinking. I've decided I like Thomas Tobin."

Leelee said nothing for several long minutes, as they headed toward the old Weaverton place. They rode in silence along the line of pine trees.

"Does he like you?"

Emma smiled a little. "Yeah, I think so."

"Well, he's a hottie, that's for sure."

"Really?" Emma was a bit surprised by that assessment.

"Definite babe material-if you're into old guys with woo-woo dogs."

They took a break down by the creek. Leelee sprawled on the grass while Emma secured the horses, pulled out juice boxes and granola bars from her fanny pack, and plopped down beside her.

"Refreshment, ma'am?"

Leelee looked up and smiled. "Why yes, thank you," she said primly, piercing the waxed cardboard with the straw. She took a long sip. "A lovely vintage."

Emma grinned at her and leaned back on her hands.

"This is nice, Emma. I'm glad you took me on a ride." Leelee was quiet while she concentrated on removing the granola wrapper. "And I'm sorry I clammed up on you this morning. I acted like a total jerk."

The words flowed over Emma like a warm breeze, and she sighed quietly. With this adjustment in Leelee's mood, it was time to clear the air.

"I'm trying to be a good mom, Leelee."

The girl's head popped up, alert to the serious tone in Emma's voice. "I know you are."

"It's difficult sometimes. I'm learning as I go."

Leelee shrugged and took another sip. "I know."

"So I want you to know that I don't enjoy having to say this."

Leelee frowned and looked around like she'd missed something. "Say what?"

"That I'm angry with you." Emma sat up straight and turned to face Leelee. "That it was inappropriate for you to watch me with Thomas last night-it was an invasion of my privacy and I don't want it to happen again." Emma paused, gulping down enough air to continue. "And I expect you to speak to me with respect-always. I love joking around with you, Lee, but I sure didn't appreciate the comment you made about me 'working it.' Or the name you gave Thomas. You went over the line."

Leelee's mouth fell open. She dropped the granola bar to the ground.

"I meant it when I told you I'd never make any major decisions without consulting you. But the thing is, I'm an adult woman. And I get lonely sometimes. And I may want to start something with someone at some point-maybe Thomas, I'm not sure-and you'll have to find a way to understand that if it happens."

Leelee said nothing.

"There may even be times when I'll have Thomas or another man over to the house, and Iexpect you to treat them with respect as well."

Leelee's sob cut through the quiet air. She was on her feet before she realized she was moving, walking away, fast, toward the water.

This isn't happening. This isn't happening.

Emma jumped up to follow her. "Leelee, please look at me."

Her ears were buzzing and the tears made her eyes sting, but it was her chest and throat that hurt the most-a kind of squeezing ache, like a fist clenching around nothing, but still clutching, grabbing, gripping the emptiness inside her until it burned.

"Sweetheart."

"Sometimes, in the mornings, they'd still be wasted, you know?" Leelee was embarrassed to hear her voice come out in such a tiny whine, like she was five years old or something. "Sometimes I'd be getting ready for school and they'd be doing it in the kitchen and I couldn't get any cereal."

Emma thought she would die. Right there.

She raised her hands and pressed them softly to the narrow shoulders in front of her, feeling every bone in Leelee's body shake.

Damn Becca.

"The most psycho part of it was that I hated all those men-really hated them-but that didn't stop me from pretending that they might be my dad. It's so weird to walk around every day and not know who your dad is, Emma."

Leelee felt Emma's hands on her head, stroking, holding, and she leaned into the warm touch.

"I'd see men walking around L.A. and I'd stare at them-construction workers, suits, slackers, every different kind of man imaginable-and I'd look for someone with my color eyes or the same shaped jaw. It was totally lame, I know."

"No, sweetheart. It wasn't."

Leelee laughed bitterly. "And I used to see these dads with their daughters, you know, at places like the mall and the movies and stuff, and I used to get all creeped out by it. It was like I didn't really believe the guys loved those girls just because they were their daughters. I was always looking for proof that there was some other gross reason they wanted to be with them-a sexual reason-because it's all I'd ever seen a man be."

The tears were rolling down Emma's face now.

"The weirdest thing of all is, unless he's dead, there's some man out there right now who might be able to love me just because he's my dad, you know? But I'll never know who he is. I'll never know what it feels like to be loved like that."