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   'If things had been different...'

   Meghan had never found much point to this way of thinking in her adult life.   If her mother had not fell ill, or had her curse had not been passed on to her children.   If that doctor, the one that was so stupid to get her mom into this mess, had been smart enough to get her out, if it would have been reversed instead of just controlled.   If her parents would have just thought about what there were doing before that roll in the hay, but then Meghan would not be herself.   Meghan just would not exist.   It was just immature to obsess over something you cannot control, so she never bothered.   She was alive.   She knew where she came from, and why.   It was one of the things that Meghan liked the most about Grey, he never bothered to ask it either.

   What might have been if I had not hid away all these years?   If my parents had not cloistered her in high school, if...no, I would had done it to myself anyways.   There was no one else to blame, truthfully.   Where would I be?   Blended into society?   Riding the subway to my 9 to 5 job?   Bumping into friends at the grocery store?   Being someone's little woman?   How about those rugrats...little rugrats...who would want them...seriously?!?   A woman as big as a tree, with the limbs to match, sitting at a desk answering phones and making coffee and filing, all at the same time!   Then off to the bowling alley for league night with the girls.   Nothing much would be different if people knew, except maybe the bowling...but not the little woman part...unless I found some that respected her for her...but no kids...not that I could have them anyway...but Meghan Moors is an artist!   It's what she was built for, and what she enjoys the most.

   Grey had sneaked a peek at the doodles on her legal notepad on several occasions.   There was a bull running over a pig in a three-piece suit, backpacks sitting outside a tent on the mountainside, a circus cannon firing into a ten-pin of clowns, a tree feeding a baby nestled in its tree tops, among other things both more and less describable.   If he had the Rosetta Stone, he might have understood why she always had that pad firmly hooked in her lowest left hand wherever she went.   Since this morning she had scribbled nonstop, from before they had even stepped onto the plane in the predawn chill that tickled the nose, until now in the afternoon, as they both stood anxiously in the green room, listening to the muffled clapping in response to band's introduction music.   The pad was held against two ample left forearms by their hands, tucked near her chest jealously.   Her top right hand held the pen, scratching away at whatever gleamed on the edges of her conscious.

What he had not seen was that hidden several pages deep, Meghan had been keeping free-flowing journal whenever she had a moment.   It was her secret, her private little way of trying to get past each moment.

I can't believe that they sent a plane for me.   A huge Lear jet just for me.   Gary about had a heart attack when he saw the look on my face.   I thought we were past this.   He gave some excuse that they were not willing to wait a week for us to drive all the way to California and it was their dime.   Couldn't they have waited for the Meghan Moors cross country tour bus?   Now there's a thought, like Elvis sightings.   Sasquatch photo-bombings!   Blurry cell phone footage!   If it's all about marketing like scrawny said, then I need to come up with a catchy name for myself.   The six-armed ginger amazonian giantess doesn't roll off the tongue.

   The Ginger Tree
   The Amazon Rainforest ---> feels that way in the shower after a long day.
   The Yo-Yo Ride ---> Grey would like that.
   The Monster/Octopus ---> Boy I can take you for a ride.   Sounds like a porno.
   The Tarantulai ---> Gross.
   The Scarlet Sasquatch ---> The shaving jokes keep coming.
   The 8th Wonder of the World ---> Or was that Andrè the Giant?
   The Crushinator ---> Too bad it's taken.   My wrestlers handle.
   What were some of the things they were calling me on TV?

   So it's just the three of us now, and the pilot who I swear took a picture of my ass as I crawled myself in here.   The last couple of days were so were so quiet at the hotel after that Friday.   David wanted it that way to clear the air for his Sunday morning show roundup.   Katherine came over the first day with some sketches and introduced me to Antonelli's cobbler friend.   Is it a cobbler?   I don't know if that's the right word anymore.   Anyways he had to see me for himself.   He gave me a little bit of creeps, the way he kept rubbing my arch as if he wanted to see if I was ticklish.   The way he stared at my feet like they are the only part of me.   I really need to get a hold of myself.   Not everyone is an antisocial, basement dwelling, pale skinned internet type, like me...   We went out once for lunch, once for a late-night drive.

    I know they sent their best, but I really could have used one of those planes they move those basketball stars in(Is there such a thing?)   It's such a beautiful plane though, dark wood paneling everywhere, creamy leather seats, they even still have that new leather smell.   It even has a sofa on one side instead of seats so I'm not too squished in here.   I can't move around much and I can't fit into the bathroom.   I slammed my head into the roof once or twice from the turbulence over the mountains (ouch!)   If I try to walk around I have to shimmy my hands across the walls to keep from falling I'm bent over so much.   Poor Lea couldn't even climb into the plane with all the stuff she was carrying.   I had to lift her into it bags and all.   Well if she didn't insist on carrying more stuff than she weights, and in high heels like anyone cares. She's a little too cute and she knows it.   God bless her.   She should have thought about it before she came in those heels and skirt.   Nobody could hope to move around in those.   I don't mean to be such a bitch.   I really don't.   She tries her best to help and I love to talk stupid girl talk with her.   Puberty robbed me of that before I had a chance.   She just doesn't understand, not even as much as Gary.   I think she's even more confused then I am.

   And Grey, or Gary, whoever he is at the moment.   The way he is now I don't even know.   Grey was so free.   He didn't give a shit about anyone and all I wanted was him to step up.   Now I have Gary and I miss Grey.   Why are women people so stupid that way?  Ignorant?   Funny thing was he had never flown either.   None of us had.   I guess his dad's plane was a part of the show and he just rented it out for money.   The past few days just make me wonder what I actually know about him.   He just gone into this Wall Street thing like it was no big deal.   He's got me led around by the nose and all I want to do is punch him in his.   It's like I'm not the important one in this whole thing.   It's my ass in the sling that he's playing with.   How fucking dare he?   I took care of myself fine for years without him.   I think I would rather take my chances then deal with his scrawny ass anymore.   I just want my own choices.   As you can see, I'm snapping at him.   I'm not getting much sleep (and I'm eating like a pig.)   I think I'm going to try to catch a nap on this sofa.   We were up even earlier than normal for this.   Good news is no one was there to scream us off.   Lea is working on something at the table on her laptop, and I think Gary is helping or something.   She's so nice.   She makes everyone feel comfortable around her.   Maybe too much.

   Now it's another limo and this one is one of those SUV party limo's that normal people can stand up in.   Ha!   'Normal'   My parents should have named me Abby.   Gary keeps going on and on about why HE chose a late-night comedy show.   His deep, buttery voice that pisses me off and keeps me from yelling all at the same time.   They won't ask hard questions, but he's worried that they might try and pull some kind of stunt with me.   I just keep nodding and pretend to write notes here.   I've never been to California.   I’ve never been much of anywhere.   I swear to God that if I get through this that I will make up for it.   I should just forget this and just hit the beach.   It's so warm here.   You and I just walk over to the sand and just keep walking.   Listen to the waves and feel the sun.   They're taking us straight to the studio for an afternoon taping, then to some freakin hotel or another for the night.   Grey believes that Leno is a genuinely nice guy and will treat me right.   Katherine (it feels weird to call her Kathy) even sent me away with an evening dress for the occasion.   A dress.   I don't even remember ever even wearing one before.   She apologized for it, said it was all she could come up with in a day.   She didn't have to do that.   She must have stayed up all night for me.   I'm too scared to even look at it.   I'm sure they won't mind if I just go out in my lumberjack look.

   Oh my God it is so beautiful.   It fits so well.   It'll completely ruin my sexless tomboy image (and I don't care).   I just have to keep it my secret.   This guy who just walked in, some football looking guy seemed to really like it.   I just hope I can pull it off for her with my fat tauren body.   After hours of waiting we have minutes to go. The makeup artist had a fit.   I want to scream.   I want to run away.   I need to punch something as I'm hiding these words between my boobs. Leave me alone whispers!   What would a real woman do in a dress like this?   How would Lea act?   I have to make this normal.

   'We all know what been dominating in the headlines.   Now even my lawyers have gagged me from talking about it.'   Leno's monolog was piped into the green room for the benefit of his guests benefit through an old CRT television.

   "Five minutes, Miss Moors."

   "Break a leg, baby.   On second thought, don't.   We don't want some poor guy limping around on stage."   Gary rose from a sofa and glanced at the time before coming close.

   Meghan's chest rose and fell heavily, causing her satin dress to fill and slacken.   Her face became pale and clammy.   Her feet went from prancing in place to being shuffled around as she tried to calm them.   "How do people do this?   How the hell do they do this?"

   "They dropped Tom Cruise for you.   You can't back out."   The backstage attendant whispered something through his headset and listened to the response, shaking his head slowly.

   "Do you want me to come out with you?"

   "No, you have your own problems to deal with."   Grey was waved off by a lower arm that only agreed hesitantly.

   "I told you I'm not worried about my father right now."

   "NO, just stay here.   I don't need you holding my hand.   I've come so far with you in the past month, but I need to do this."   And why not?   This was just the latest challenge, and she had beaten everything so far.   "Take care of this..."   Gary was handed the pad for safekeeping, along with a stern warning whispered in his ear.

   "Miss Moors, if I may.   Some words of advice from a wise man who I knew decades ago: 'Ladies and gentlemen, take my advice - pull down your pants and slide on the ice.' "

   "Alright...Sounds good to me."

   'And now for a special moment, probably my personal greatest hosting this show… I present to you the woman of the hour, MEGHAN MOORS!'   The crowd applauded in reflex, until she stepped out from the curtain and it dawned on their collective consciousness what exactly had been stated. The band had started up once more, covering for what otherwise was silence in the studio.   Meghan made her laggard feet work to her advantage, bullying her three right arms to wave at a crowd she could not even make anything of, off in the shadows behind the stage light glare.   Her eyes became fixed onto Jay Leno, her confidence flowed from her evening gown.

   It was not one of the over the top things you see on the red carpet, but it flowed off of her body beautifully, and for the first time in years she could move in real clothes without feeling like a boa constrictor had her in its caress.   It was not designed to hide her many long and bold curves, but to rejoice in them.   Sky blue, sleeveless and backless, it opened at her lower back between the hip bones, and cut with straight lines to form a diamond, which at its widest came just forward of her three sets of shoulders; it apogee falling in front and between the first and second while still leaving enough cloth remaining to contain the lines of her softest flesh, narrowing again above to a close as it fell over her top shoulders and became a plummeting neckline of moderate cleavage.   A weave of six long thin plum colored straps interlaced over the small of her back, spaced widely and evenly, they ran parallel to the cut of her dress.   Each strap unwound to travel each over a single shoulder to the dress's front, cutting diamonds out of her skin that shimmered as she walked, the long straps flexing and shifting with the sway of her arms, Which drew attention to the triple musculature of her shoulders and back.   This diamond shape was reflected at each thigh, designed to appear from the side to run in line with the shape of her bare back, the other side parallel with the cut of the diamond, opening as it fell to the floor to show off the greatest legs known to man, tipped in plum flats.   It seemed here that heels would be just an overkill of the highest order. The whole dress was trimmed in this plum as well, contrasting her light freckled skin, and made from a thicker fabric, as no bra could be worn to hide a display.   It must have been exceedingly difficult to have put together on such short notice, and to have fit so beautifully and so well.   Moreover, it was something uncluttered, something like her that gave her the confidence to walk out there that night.   She was beautiful.

   Every step through the silence she felt the satin flow on her skin, and she knew that someone cared about her.   Not one, everyone that had made it possible, and she knew that they were cheering her on.   Finally, someone clapped in the crowd and whistled, and it built from there, until the audience was at an uproar, and she found that she enjoyed this as well.   Her face bobbed, and brightened with a toothy grin, and another wave.   She was not so big from their perspective.   And somewhere in the desert, a little Indian girl who had returned months ago from her own adventure in the land of her ancestors, jumped as a piece within herself rejoiced as she watched the TV.   She was not alone either.

Leno rose to his feet and clapped along as Meghan ascended two steps to him.   He had been doing this for a long time, and had seen them all.   Only Meghan was close enough to see the hint of surprise in his eyes, his prodigious chin droop just slightly.   He shook a hand as he leaned over the desk, then grabbed a second spontaneously, and a third, to the devious delight of the crowd.   Meghan's face twisted a bit as she lowered herself slowly into the guest chair, thankfully large enough for her frame.

   "Wow!   It's one thing to read it on paper, or see it on TV, but here you are...I...WOW!   So, how are you...Wait!"   Leno steered himself away from the ditch.   "Before we get started, I just want everyone to know that late show hosts do not use special chairs or other methods..."   He motioned off stage to someone.   A new stage hand with a head set made an appearance from behind the curtain with what looked to be a director’s chair, and hurried it behind his desk.   "...There we go...to make ourselves to appear taller than our guests."   Even with the boost, he came about level with her.   Leno gestured to the cameraman, who had lingered at a suggestive chest level, to pan up to them both.   Meghan's skin flushed, but then she burst into laughter, covering her mouth with a hand.   "There, that could have gone worse."   Leno stretched his arms out to reset his cuffs, looked over his note cards, then the audience, and tossed them over his shoulder.   "So, Meghan...can I call you that?   How are you?"

   "Honestly?   Seriously nervous."

   "Well, just picture me naked, but that probably won't help. It's just you and me, a few hundred of my friends and whoever might be watching."

   "You're cute..."

   "Really, you looking for a sugar daddy?   Or just taking my advice?"

   "You think you can measure up?"   Leno shrunk in his chair, wide-eyed as the audience laughed again.   A half-grin under furrowed brow, the signs of Meghan's conflicted understandings as she scanned the anonymous crowd again.

   "You're not used to this are you?"

   "No...No way!"

   "That is probably the biggest difference you have with anyone else that has sat in that chair."

   "I'll take that as a compliment.   So now what?"   Meghan tried to straighten out wrinkles in her dress with nervous hands as she spoke.

   "Well, why don't we start from the beginning and see where we get?"

   And it really wasn't so bad.   He really got me to relax and forget what was going on and just talk.   After the show he apologized for his 'antics'.   Said it was just showbiz.   I get that.   I guess they just wanted my real reactions to it all.   I think I did good.   No one ended up in the hospital this time.   I just don't know if anyone would have bothered to watch anything about my boring life.   We talked about my childhood as much as I could without hurting anyone and my day to day life and problems.   The best part had to be when I arm wrestled the next guest, some guy named Terry Crews, the guy in the back with us.   Here was this big guy in a suit arm wrestling me, kneeling on the floor in this dress, on Jay Leno's desk.   He couldn't beat me with two hands to one and I scooped him up and sat him on that desk after he gave up.   I know I wasn't supposed to get physical, so what?   Terry laughed a lot, and so did Jay. Gave me the hand signal to call him later.   I just might if I can find out his number.   He was really nice.   I hope Gary isn't mad.   Fuck him.

   This room puts the one in Philadelphia to shame.   I guess I didn't see the best there though.   I can't imagine whatever they have being bigger or better then this, lots of blacks and whites, fancy furniture with a modern twist, even a piano.   I loved the balcony.   I think I spent an hour just sitting there with the quiet stars and sounds of the city (My ears were still are ringing from the show).   James Bond would be impressed with this place.   Grey sat down at the piano for a little bit, tried to play it.   It even sounded like he used to know what he was doing.   I guess the one they gave Lea just sucked so Gary let her stay with us here.   He said he was getting too comfortable on beds anyway.   I guess some of my Grey is still in there. It mak...

   "What'cha writin' down?" Meghan jerked, and flipped the pages back over to hide her musings.   She had been writing on the bed, the pad resting on her thighs as she reclined, head and shoulders propped up on the copious amount of pillows left for her.   Her remaining arms ran randomly like roots through and under them all.

   "Oh this?   Nothing Lea, just...I guess I'm just used to expressing myself in some way."   Lea had just come out of the shower, her jet black, mid-shoulder length hair wrapped still in a towel, her body in a lavender night gown disguised as lingerie.   Meghan looked at her, then the baggy, chopped up grey sweats she wore in contrast.

   "I jus' saw the show, yoo really nailed it."

   "I can't watch it.   It's like when I create something.   I know where every little crack, dent and defect is.   Sometimes it's just no fun to creating art, you just can't enjoy it when you're done."

   "Don' worry 'bout it, yoo did fine.   The camera didn' even add fifteen pounds to ya."

   The camera wouldn't notice fifteen pounds."   Lea stumbled just a bit, landing butt first on the ottoman at the end of the bed, the towel on her head fell loose.   "Are you drunk?"

   "Maybe a lil', the place has i's own bar, i's free.   I jus' had a couple.   Esta chika ess BUENO..." Lea giggled and forgot where she was.   Throwing her head back on the bed and looking at Meghan upside-down.

   "A couple would do it for you."

   "Nah...come on, le's break tha bar wide open."   Lea jumped back up into another stumble.   Meghan lie stone cold still in contrast, instead doodling and trying to ignore her.

   "No thanks."

   "Yoo chicken?"

   "No stupid, there just isn't enough here."

   "That just sssucks...you did look good tho' on the TV.   Smokin' hot.   There are many men lusting tonight, and a few girls I bet. I shou' know, I field tha calls."   Lea scooted over toward the top of the bed towards Meghan, and on a strange impulse touched Meghan's curved cheek with her tiny hand.

   "You're not like that, are you?"   Meghan taken aback, or something else, did not try removing the hand.   Lea did herself as she shrunk away.

   "Noooo.....I got over that in college, mos'ly.   Remembur'd I liked the penis too much."

   "God, you just exude feminine wiles."

   "Well, when tha cat's away.   I'ss the cost of workin' at a sexless job."

   "You wouldn't have any idea about sexless...and your breath, you sure you just had a couple."   Meghan regretted it before she had finished the words, but she could not stop them now.   "It's a real nice room they put us in tonight."

   "Yup, stars, billionaires, pres'dents, they've all slept in these beds.   Tha's why it'sa pres'dential sweet."   Lea threw herself onto Meghan's mattress, her momentum barely stirring Meghan, rolling to a stop stomach down, kicking the mattress for good measure as the towel was spun off onto the floor, then propping up her head by her hands.    "Tonight you sleep with tha very best."

   "God, I wish had your guts.   You would have done so much better."   Meghan, finally put down the pad and pen on the nightstand and watched Lea's antics.

   "Fer the lasst time, stop it!"

   "How do you live so free?"

   Lea rolled onto her back to look at the tall roof.   "I don't know, YOLO I guess."

   "Oh, don't give me that shit."

   "Look, whatev'r.   Jus' live gurl.   Who knows what'll happ'n to any of us o' how long we got."

   "That's just it.   With this body of mine, I don't even know how long I have.   People that grow like this don't tend to live to be old, but I'm nothing like them.   I could live hundreds of years, or my heart will give out tomorrow.   If I'm not even human, how can I have kids?"   A hand rubbed her stomach, another seemed to cradle something; her highest shoulders shrugged.

   "Then go get you some.   You need to get laid anywaysss."

   "That was a bit rude, don't you think."

   "I'ave an excuse, I'ma drunk, sees."   Lea pulled her eyelid up to show off bloodshot eyes.   "You 'ave ya chance now, no excuses, go live a liddle."

   "I know, I know.   If anyone shouldn't pre-judge a person...I get it.   I should, and I will...soon."

   "Tha's my girl.   Buh tha way, you cut yourself ah slab of that ass out fron'?"

   "You stay away from him!"

   "We got tha right.   You wanna share 'im?"   Lea tried to wink, but could not pull it off, instead fluttering her eyes, going from confused to a frustrated look.

   "I think I've had just about enough of you."

   It was a curious sight for Grey as he woke to the high pitched cursing of a drunken girl, being carried with no more effort than a purse to the opposite bedroom.   He thought about it for a second, deciding it was best to not interfere.   It was time Lea got the 'Meghan Experience'.   Certainly his was a much rougher time adjusting to her.   And it seemed to him that Meghan was getting better at adjusting to us.

Well, back on the plane home and really going home this time.   Little Miss Sitton barely made it on the plane this morning.   It seems that the California sun was too much for her.   Dumb cunt.   I don't know what of that was Lea last night or if she even remembers anything.   I can't hate her for it.   I know I'm a little jealous of her, being totally honest here.   A little bird like her doesn't have to worry about breaking the forest.   But finally I can go home to my warehouse and get some work done. Funny how it's all I want now and they say you can't go home again.   David called and said there was no point in staying in Philadelphia anymore.   Even trying to push up the court date that it would be months before anything happened.   He also said something about having a reality special with The Discovery Network or something.    I could be on between those chopper guys and the fat pawn people (I can't trash that restoration show though).   I may just say 'fuck you' on that!   Me, the next reality star.   No thanks!

   David was nice enough to pick us up in that Navigator of his.   He and David talked a lot about the details.   Lea tried to follow along.   All the ice was used up in the plane on her forehead.   As least she can keep her eyes open.   I can't take much more of their 'marketing'.   I want Grey back in his crappy clothes.   I want him to take us back to the mountains and stop worrying about me.   Stop tiptoeing around me and treat me like the woman he loves.   It's good to be going home.   I can't say that enough.   Maybe I can do this.   Maybe Grey will remember.   I won't have to hide anymore.   I can fix up the warehouse and get my own groceries and deal with these people.   Weirdest thing is I don't want to hide anymore.   It's over and I've been outed.   You can't put the elephant back in the bag.   Whatever time I have left is for me to enjoy.   I can do this.

   Meghan's home was surrounded, which came as no surprise to anyone.   Some had even waited on the bay in motorboats for the homecoming.   There were no police here however it seems that they weren't needed.   The crowd parted quietly to allow the SUV to pass through.   It was different then before, and Meghan recognized her fellow neighbors leading her way, the bartender, the grandmother and others she had watched from her windows in lonely times and others she imagined she knew from years of phone calls.   Everything leading up to this, nothing came close to the gratification she felt to simply be accepted by her own home.   As Meghan crawled out of the Navigator she was all smiles, on a natural high.   She had not even hoped for this.

   She should have known better.   A trim suit with a mic, every tightly curled hair pulled back, emerged from a void in the crowd where no one had dared to get within arm’s reach of her.   She was the future of America, moving forward, someone that represented all the various peoples of the downtrodden in her skin and her eyes, and willing to drag her dirty blonde cameraman by the collar anywhere as long as it upset whoever she wanted.   She had her righteous indignation and she needed nothing else.   It was her armor, her microphone was her weapon.

   "Moors, with all due respect..." this was a lie and she wanted to make sure Meghan knew it, "How does it feel to profit off of the beating of black children?"

   "What?"   Meghan stopped dead as if she had been stabbed by the microphone that had been waved in her face.   David, Grey, and Lea along with the cameraman formed a ring around the two, none thought to get in between.

   "You run around the country, profiting off of the blood, riding the backs of five black men you beat like slaves, and you think that in your superiority that no one will fight you on this, you are wrong."

   "That's not what happened..."

   "Their testimony was consistent.   They said you attacked them."

   "They were the ones who attacked first."

   "Tell me the truth, did you burn the last one because you forgot a cross?"

   "Bullshit! Who the FUCK do you think you are?!?"

   "You are the symbol of racism in society, bloated, your tendrils reaching everywhere, and always hidden behind white sheets on every corner and every heart of those in the majority with power."   Her smug look twisted with her words into one of horror as she was lifted off of her feet by a single hand gripping her blazer.   Meghan had this reporter's face just a foot from hers.

   "You want equality?   Here you go.   You want the truth?   You could care less about the truth.   You make your own.   You want a story?   You want the monster for a late Christmas present?   You want a scene so you can take that back to your masters?   I'm not giving you one."   Meghan lowered her to the ground softly.   Somehow she still tripped and fell on her ass, and screamed about how she twisted her ankle.   "Go to hell."

   "YOU!   You go to hell with all of you racist kind!   You assaulted me...officers!   Are you getting this?"

   Grey looked straight into the camera which caught the whole exchange.   "For the record, it was me.   Those 'innocent' men attacked me and almost killed me, and tried to carjack her van.   She saved my life."

   It was a full week before the outrage died down.   Almost every outlet edited the footage down for what was important, the poor reporter lifted and thrown to the ground, and ran it every five minutes past the hour.   Then the analysis, and how gracious that the reported did not have her arrested for assault.   When this went stale, they did round tables of bobble-heads on how it would affect the trial, then more on the safety of the brave reporters who give us the news.   What happened didn't matter, it was spun like a Beyoncé record you have heard a thousand times before.

   Grey stayed with Meghan throughout.   For the first two days she cried in her room.   For those two days he had held her nearly non-stop.   She had talked little during this time, sometimes motionless for hours, retreating inside herself to let some other part to the fore.   On that second night he finally managed to get her to come out to eat.   He did not notice the legal pad thrown into a corner behind the nightstand, stuck on its side by the fanned pages.   It would be hidden away to be found at some point years later when a more formal journal would be kept, but for today her writings were over.

   It took three weeks before she let the windows be scraped and washed free of the spray paint, giving her home a new and brighter, more refreshing life.   The day began to lengthen again, and the sun started to shine through those widows again; and a much overdo spring cleaning was begun, of both home and soul.   Meghan got back to her own work, orders were pouring in now on anything she could deliver.   Grey assisted her with these jobs as he could, learning about the processes to bend and shape metal.   Those were his favorite times.   Hers were putting a new coat of paint on downstairs, fixing the walls and finally insulating them, and strangely enough, watching the children of the neighborhood play on her greening lawn, even joining in on occasion to a game of soccer, or hide and seek with the smallest.

   Once she was finally ready, she let cameras in her home, even with a little sense of pride.   It was a day in her life with embellishment, her life's work and a celebration of her new freedom.   Only two things were hidden, her room and her stone heart held in riveted hands.

   Meghan became a fixture around town, sunbathing on her dock, waving at whomever floated by; or going for moonlight walks through town, with Grey or alone, with a smile and a greeting for anyone who passed.   In spare moments she found time to grab her gear and work on the dilapidated slides and a set of monkey bars at the old park near her home.   But it seemed for the time she would never stray too far from home.   For her, everything she had seen from her own windows was new.

   Spring was about to give way to summer before the record was dusted off and spun again.   The trial date set was mere weeks away.   The people who made the news were determined to make sure that everyone on that jury would know exactly what's fate they were deciding.   It was Christmas in July.   Unavoidable as the mountain meeting the sea, and she did would not try to.   If there was anything she wanted, it was the truth, for herself from everyone around her.