I am his to possess, and he is mine. So why does his possession of me feel more like demonic dominance and less like the cherishing care that every person needs? - Felicity’s journal, March 9.

I made my choice – 1,000 times a day in a 1,000 moments – and I chose you. You didn’t return the favor. – Text from Felicity to Brendon, April 10

March 12

Time froze. Felicity couldn't move, she couldn't breathe. Every tangible thing in life sped away from her to a single, intense, black hole pinpoint of pain. She was under the water, fighting with everything within her to surface. Her lungs burned, her stomach filled with a deep throbbing, and the tears that should have flowed melted away in the flood of horror and despair.

‘Nightengale!’ the voice commanded. She raised her eyes to the surface of the water, and the words rippled just past the surface. ‘Nightengale, wake up…’ they read, monuments erected against her fear,

Felicity lunged up from the bed, her breath shallow and desperate, as she settled the nightmare back into the dark past where it belonged. For a moment, she worked to recover her equilibrium then twisted to glance at her husband. Brendon still slept soundly, unaware of his wife's moment of terror. Fortunately, she had trained her mind when she was a child, suffering from the intense nightmares brought on by a vivid imagination. She had trained it how to wake up, calling to her by her childhood nickname, wrenching her from slumber by the misspelled word. Sometimes Nick’s voice, sometimes her mother’s, sometimes her own.

Felicity forced herself to breath, infusing calm before she let herself move. Only once had she ever dared remind Brendon that he had given the kids permission to play on that pier – had silenced Felicity’s protests. Only when he and she had driven Noah home from the hospital after loading his new, mechanized wheelchair into the handicapped van they had purchased. Brendon had, tears in his eyes, hardened his face into a bitter glare, staring out the windshield as they drove home. “You should have watched them closer,” he had censured quietly, gripping the steering wheel with knuckles white with strain.

With the breath punched from her, Felicity had sat silently for a moment before lashing out in her pain, “You never should have let them play there in the first place!”

She had regretted the words instantly, even if she had thought them a thousand times before. Lashing out against Brendon always backfired. But the pain; it had blinded her for a moment.

Of course, he blamed her – blaming himself was not an option for his fragile psyche. Felicity, though, refused to engage in unproductive thoughts. She would have enough to deal with taking care of a child who couldn't walk. Repairing what Brendon had done to Alex. And, of course, making sure baby Nicholas didn’t get lost between his wounded siblings.

Yet the words had come out, and the battle lines seemed to settle between them - Brendon versus Felicity, whether she wanted a war or not. Brendon's vision of their little world had come crashing down, and his love for Felicity had crashed with it.

Still, Brendon protected his image. His image of himself, his image of his marriage, his image of his family. He never looked at Alex the same way again – his first-born child, his pride and joy. No longer. Alex, the selfish child who had destroyed her father’s image of perfection, a child's lack of restraint turning into a life-altering catastrophe.

In the present, as her fog of pain dissipated, Felicity shook off the dream, the subconscious memory that hummed as a constant background to her day-to-day thoughts. Anxiety consumed her whenever Felicity looked at her children – the stifled fear that if she looked away from them, if she slept too soundly at night, if she took a break, something else catastrophic could happen. Maybe something caused by a child's natural selfishness and thoughtlessness. Or maybe something caused by an evil outsider. Or maybe a true accident. If she failed at her job, something else could happen to Noah. Or Alex. Or Nicholas. The possible dangers overwhelmed Felicity every moment of her life.

She stood to her feet, sleep fleeting as a wisp of smoke on the breeze. Her pulse pounded in her head, a combination of standing up too fast and hating life. Pulling out her phone, she shielded her husband from the glare before illuminating the screen. 2:34 a.m. Ugh! she complained. Undoubtedly, Felicity would not sleep again for a while, not after the dream. She grabbed her laptop from under the bed and tiptoed toward the living room.

As she glimpsed herself in the cascading hallway mirrors, she sighed in disgust. The small swell at her waistline did not predict a coming bundle of joy, just a monument to the past ones. So much she had given up to become a wife and mother, so many visions of herself and her dreams. Jenna’s words rattled in Felicity’s head - Do you lose yourself without a life of your own?

Felicity pushed the thought down. This was the life she had chosen by having her children. Nothing that the grown-ups in their lives had to deal with was the children’s fault, and Felicity wouldn’t let them suffer for it. Three years. Three years had passed, and Brendon had drifted farther and farther away. Not that he had ever been easy to reach out to, not since high school and dating and hormones, but he had tried. He had smiled and charmed and bought presents. He hadn't exactly connected with her, but she could see that he wanted to please her. After the accident, though, he had found more to do at work, he had said yes to all of his friends' social invitations, he had joined a club to relax and unwind. On the rare occasions when he came home, he planted himself in his chair and watched the news – rarely engaged with the kids, kept conversation with Felicity to a polite discourse – when he wasn’t complaining or belittling her - closed himself off completely.

If she let herself think about it, Felicity wavered between furious and hurt and lonely and miserable. But her kids needed her to stay positive. They needed her to maintain a calm and laughter-filled home. Despite her frustration, she could get herself up in the morning to see their smiles. Her family had grown – little Nicholas had brought his mischievous grin and infectious giggle to lighten the sometimes-somber reality of the disheartened Alex and the struggling Noah. Even with all that had happened, even with Noah's disability, Felicity found that she loved her life – not every aspect, certainly not the distance between her and Brendon, but the little niche of beauty that filled her every waking moment.

As her eyes clouded with sentiment, almost an hour after her dream, an unexpected clatter ripped Felicity out of her reverie. Squelching a moment of near panic, Felicity talked herself down. Stupid toys, she complained silently. No matter how many times she picked up the clutter, a child inevitably made more, and no doubt one of her brood had just found the offending object with his foot. As if all the children had slept through the entire night even once in the past 12 years! Felicity glanced back at the clock. 3:27 a.m., enough time to have settled her mind and forgotten the dream. Felicity shed her blanket, walked through the kitchen, and rounded the corner into the hallway to attend to the child.

It was just a child, she reassured herself repeatedly as she approached the dark hallway. Fortunately, the porch lamp illuminated a quartet of squares on the entryway floor, and Felicity spotted a toddler's toy car at the edge of the light. She breathed easier for a moment, certain that she would hear one of her children any second, but the silence did not cease, and when a shadow flitted across one of the window panes, her earlier nervousness ramped up to fear. Her heart leapt into her throat as her breathing ceased. From the sides of her eyes, she assessed the doorway, slowly turning her head to take in all four squares. She inched backwards, away from the door until she could gain a better view from a less exposed position. Nothing. No more noise, no more shadow, nothing unexpected. Suddenly, she realized that she hadn't breathed in a few moments, so she drew in air through her nose. She had no idea why something so innocuous had ramped up her nerves so instantaneously.

Calming herself, she tiptoed to the front door, forcing her eyes to scan the entirety of the porch, including the shadows. Nothing. Of course, nothing, she mocked herself. It made her feel better to dismiss her fears, but she stood glaring at the night for several minutes before she could drag herself back to earth. Certainly, she couldn't wake Brendon. He tended to dismiss any of her fears and concerns as irrational, even after the accident, not willing to inconvenience himself to think hard enough to chase down insecurities.

Finally, relief came in a child’s voice. “Mommy, I’m thirsty,” Nicholas's whine interrupted the thought, and Felicity took a moment of shock to register that the sound had come from her phone – a monitor app keeping track of the kids. Bless your thirst, Felicity giggled at herself, her relief flushing her system with near euphoria.

“Be there in a minute, bug,” Felicity answered her little boy. “Let me go back in the kitchen.”

The noise had been Nicholas, toddling around looking for her. The shadow had been a passing bird. Everything was fine.

Reversing her direction, Felicity glided calmly back toward the kitchen, ostensibly to fulfill her son's request - not that Nicholas would stay awake long enough to get the drink. Felicity paused once again at the door to the outside, checking all the locks and peering into the dark. She would check the cameras in the morning. Cameras Brendon had installed a few weeks before, claiming that he wanted to be more involved in the kids’ lives. Involved from afar, her bitterness asserted before she could suppress it. Swallowing the sensation, she peeked into the boys’ room and heard the steady rhythm of sleeping breath. Felicity let the pleasure of hearing the sound push down her frustration with Brendon and the tension of her fear, and she forced herself to trek down the hall and climb into bed beside her husband. Always alert, even in sleep, Brendon lay his arm over her and settled back into deep slumber - while she fought the hollow listlessness that seemed constantly to pervade her thoughts about him.

After nowhere near enough sleep, the ringing of the telephone crashed through the stillness of dawn, as if someone had suddenly unmuted the day. Disoriented, Felicity stumbled out of bed and sprinted from her bedroom to the back of the house to the house phone. Stupid dinosaur, she accused the phone, uncertain of why she even owned the outdated thing. She looked at the clock. 6:25 a.m. …

“Hello!” she almost yelled into the phone.

“Oh, pardonnez-moi!” an unknown voice replied. “J’ai le mauvais numéro. Excusez-moi, s’il vous plait!” A click preceded the familiar thrum of a dial tone.

Bemused, Felicity stared at the phone. How strange, she pondered, intrigued. Though Spanish speakers abounded in Phoenix, Felicity had rarely encountered someone who spoke French. Of course, they could have called from literally anywhere in the world.

As Felicity climbed back into bed, Brendon fumed. “I hope you reminded your mother about what time she's allowed to call,” then reining in his irritation, he turned the reprimand into a joke - Brendon defaulted to a pretense of charm, even with Felicity. “What was it this time, a cute little girl singing on Lawrence Welk?”

Felicity laughed, choosing to be charmed as he had intended rather than irritated at his disrespect for her mother. “Even my mom doesn't watch Lawrence Welk anymore.” Felicity grew thoughtful. “Actually, it wasn’t my mom. It was a lady who only spoke French. I think she said she had the wrong number.”

Unexpectedly, Brendon sat up in bed. “Strange,” he replied with a stiff shrug.

Not as strange as the look on your face, Felicity noted, turning to see why he had sat up in bed so suddenly. Instead of his usually confident nonchalance, Brendon looked oddly tense. If she could have found any explanation for it, she would have said he looked nervous. But why would a random phone call make the ever-confident Brendon nervous?

As if to distract from the odd behavior, Brendon jumped out of bed. Nothing unusual about that. Brendon rarely sat still while conscious.

“No use wasting the day,” he smiled with no hint of the tension. He held out his hand to help her up. Forcing a smile – she would have slept another hour – Felicity accepted his assistance and rose to her feet. “Since I’m up,” he continued, “I might as well get a little extra work in.”

Sighing, Felicity acknowledged him with a weak smile. Of course you will. Unfazed by her lack of excitement, Brendon, in typical enthusiasm, swept her up into a kiss, a short kiss, but nice, encircling her with his arm and pulling her close before touching his lips briefly to hers.

“Or maybe I need to stay for half an hour?” he simpered, and Felicity forced herself to smile. Brendon’s overt sexuality had grown to mean little to Felicity, though she let herself interpret it as affection. Certainly, he had ceased all other expressions of love outside of empty gestures. Still, in her desperation to believe in her domestic vision, she lapped at every feigned attempt. In her deepest thoughts, though, she knew better than to believe them. Standing in the closet, though, enduring his overtures, she apparently hadn’t managed the requisite enthusiasm.

He grew rigid and stepped away, quickly releasing her. “You know, you might do something about that giant pile of my laundry that’s been growing in the closet,” he accused. Like a child, he had interpreted her lack of excitement about him as judgment, and he had to lash out to belittle her before he could feel rejected. Without another word, he hurried to the closet, threw on his suit, and rushed out the door, leaving her disheveled and irritated. She quickly suppressed her frustrations under the demands of her day.

She started off immediately, prepping breakfast for the kids, and since the kids weren’t awake yet, she used the extra time to prepare some things for lunch. Then, having gotten as much ready as she could, she started cleaning, a futile exercise in her house where a child could, as a whirlwind, turn a room from order to bedlam in a moment. Now Felicity faced another day of mundane chores and responsibilities, and she steadied herself with a breath.

A wasted breath, she soon realized. As if the past twelve hours had not held enough excitement for her, Felicity found herself suddenly thrown into an unexpected moment of drama. She had just passed the front door on her way to the kids' rooms when the peal of tires on the road beside her house preceded the telltale crunching of chrome upon chrome. Glancing in the rooms to make sure her children still slept, Felicity crept out the front door and strode quickly to the end of the pathway toward the street.

Without preamble, the vehicle that seemed to have caused the crash suddenly slammed into reverse and headed off to the highway where it abruptly sped out of sight. Shocked, Felicity made a quick mental note of the car’s description and license plates and rushed over to the other vehicle to see if anyone needed help. As far as she could tell, no one had exited the car, and such a deep ditch could have caused serious injury. To her surprise, however, when she reached the site of the crash, though only fifty feet from her front door, no one was inside. How had anyone gotten out of there without her seeing him? It had taken her less than two minutes to exit her house and walk to the car, yet the car stood empty with no sign that anyone had driven it into the ditch.

Glancing helplessly around, Felicity wondered that no one else seemed to have noticed the accident. No neighbors rushed to the site of the noise, no police sirens blared in the distance - a particularly tranquil and quiet dawn. She climbed slowly out of the ditch, taking in her surroundings with a new anxiety.

Above her, the early morning sky stretched expansive and clear, and the warm breeze that brushed through the cool air spoke spring. Everything appeared beautiful and poised with promise. Still, though nothing exactly catastrophic had happened to her in the past few hours, Felicity couldn't escape the idea that her life had changed. Somehow, the clattering of her child's toy in the night portended ill, and the other strange occurrences had confirmed it. Despite the outward normalcy, Felicity sensed that beneath the calm veneer of the dawn brewed an unforeseen disturbance.

She shook herself to disperse the thought. Paranoid? she wondered, relegating her nerves to sleep-deprived delusion. Though a chill hung around her, Felicity had begun to perspire, and since she could do nothing about the wreck, she headed back inside to call the police. After she reported all that she had seen, including the license plate number of the fleeing vehicle, the police thanked her, and soon a tow-truck removed the physical evidence of the wreck. As soon as it did, Felicity returned to the usual tedium of her life, wiping the morning's events from her mind with a willful determination to remain ignorant as long as possible.

As if to punctuate the normalcy of her day, Felicity had just started chopping some garlic to sauté for an omelet when, on cue, she heard the, ring, ring of her cell phone. Eight-thirty, Friday morning. Time for the weekly call, Felicity smiled. For once, she felt comfort in the irritating predictability of the ritual. Still, she couldn't help rolling her eyes when she saw the caller ID: Miranda Carlton.

“Hello?” Felicity forced a pleasant tone.

“Good morning, Felicity. This is Miranda Carlton.” Felicity mouthed the words with the voice on the phone. “I'm calling to invite you to our weekly book club and playgroup.”

“Why, thank you Miranda,” Felicity deadpanned. “I'll try to make it.”

“We'll be looking for you!” Miranda assured Felicity sincerely. “In fact, we have a new attendee who I think you would like to meet.”

Despite her usual ennui with the group, Felicity couldn't hide her interest at the unexpected deviation from the usual conversation. “Really? Why is that?”

“Well, I remember that last year when you joined our group, you spoke of an interest in learning French.”

“Yes...” The coincidence piqued Felicity to full attention.

“One of our new members moved here recently from Quebec. Though she joined to practice her English, she would probably appreciate the chance to speak in French on occasion.”

Felicity began to laugh at herself. Had she devised a conundrum where none existed?

“Have you already given the woman our directory?” she queried, a sudden idea springing to life.

“Why, yes,” Miranda admitted, sounding confused by the seemingly incongruous question. “Why do you ask?”

Felicity sighed an internal sigh of relief, one mystery seemingly explained. “Oh, nothing, really. I just received a phone call from a French speaker this morning. I had thought it extremely odd considering the sparsity of French speakers I know.”

“Oh, understandably. She must have dialed the wrong number from the directory.”

“No doubt,” Felicity nodded, relieved that Miranda had agreed with her own hypothesis. “You've cleared up a real mystery for me.”

“My pleasure,” Miranda gushed, and Felicity could hear the anticipation in Miranda's tone.

Rolling her eyes again, Felicity predicted the next sentence, and her levity dampened slightly.

As if Miranda's small contribution to Felicity's peace of mind would compel Felicity to accept an invitation! “So, can I expect you at the meeting? You can meet Lizette.”

“Certainly,” Felicity agreed offhandedly. “I can't wait. Until tomorrow, then.”

“Until tomorrow! I'm looking forward to it.”

Felicity didn't like to lie as a matter of principle, but she allowed herself this one indulgence with Miranda. She had no desire to sit around and listen to everyone blather about which Baby Einstein skill her child had mastered. Though Felicity adored her children, she knew she was lucky to get shoes on her kids before she walked out the door, much less have them cleaned and wearing matching clothes, and though she read to her children regularly, no, her two-year-old had not yet mastered all the math facts. When she had first joined, Felicity had anticipated going, excited by the book aspect of the little group. Once she arrived though, there was much more “mom-bunch,” and since Felicity had intended the group as a few moments of escape from her everyday life, that didn’t really fit the bill.

I swear, she complained internally, I think these groups are more for parents' egos than for real relationship building.

Unfortunately, Brendon wanted Felicity to attend the group. According to Brendon, Felicity needed to get out more, engage with other moms. “It's not good for you to be such a recluse,” he asserted every time she complained about the weekly call. “You should go.”

In reality, Felicity suspected him of another, more utilitarian end: the local ladies were a good source of networking. “You never know when their husbands or families or friends might offer access to something that we need,” he had admitted in a candid moment. Felicity considered such reasons a rather Machiavellian intent for establishing friendships, but Brendon saw no conflict. In fact, he tended to judge Felicity for her idealism, labeling her sentimental.

Even with her excuses, though, Felicity felt terrible about lying to Miranda - she genuinely liked the woman. It took a lot of courage for Miranda to continue calling Felicity when every week garnered a new rejection. Regardless, Felicity's guilt would not compel her to subject herself to the tedium of the group – Felicity had enough tedium of her own, thank you very much. Replacing the phone on the receiver, Felicity turned back to enjoy her omelet.

After another half hour, Noah awoke and wheeled into the kitchen from the hallway, rubbing his eyes with his dimpled hands. His yellow ringlets bounced idyllically up and down, framing his face in a golden halo. Felicity loved those golden curls, so incongruous with his parents' straight, brown locks. For the first year of his life, people would often comment on Felicity's adorable “nephew.” Little did they know that Felicity's hair, though straight, had rivaled Noah's golden hue for the first eight years of childhood. Only as an adult had Felicity's hair darkened to its current brunette shade.

“Hi, Mommy,” Noah greeted his mother, almost knocking Felicity over by wheeling into her legs. Felicity had to laugh at the enthusiasm. Of course, Noah wouldn't stop until Felicity had reached down and extracted him from the chair and offered the obligatory morning hug.

“Hello, buddy,” Felicity reached down and scooped her son into her arms, kissing his silken skin and inhaling the powdery scent of his hair. “Are your brother and sister awake?”

“Nicholas is standing in his bed, but Alex is still sleeping. You need to go get Nicholas before he wakes his sister,” Noah insisted administratively.

“Well, yes, sir,” Felicity saluted, and rose obediently, Noah on her hip, to retrieve the toddler who had just begun to squeal in protest at his imprisonment. Though he as yet had little hair, Nicholas seemed destined to wear a deep russet brown coif, and the thin wisps seemed to promise at least a gentle wave. Alex, on the other hand, had a shock of straight brown tresses, plain by comparison to Nicholas's. Alex had other assets in her favor, though. Like Felicity's brother, Nick, Alex had large, round, soulful eyes that twinkled with a somber amusement – too wise an expression for a child. No one who saw Alex would notice the unremarkable hair on her head, so enraptured would they feel with her cerulean eyes.

Felicity’s children filled a part of her soul that almost made all her other dissatisfaction fade to the background in insignificance. Almost. Though it feels empty without my partner, she couldn't help lamenting before she shoved the void down into the depths of her heart.

When she had married Brendon, he had played the part well, but Felicity soon realized that his initial fascination with her had melted into disappointment. The soulmate had been an illusion of her own fantasy, and he judged her for wishing it. The accident had just completed her descent into uselessness. Now, Felicity had decided to refocus on her children since her husband had left her every way but physically.

As Noah had predicted, Alex began to stir, and Felicity glided over to her room, Nicholas on her other hip, to persuade the eldest sibling toward breakfast. The rest of the day proceeded as usual, and when Briel arrived at noon to help Felicity with the children, Felicity again began to tap away on her computer, the one source of indulgent satisfaction in her life. Briel comprised an attempt on Brendon’s part to provide relief for Felicity – or so he said – and Felicity loved the steady young woman. At first, Felicity had worried about the expense, but Brendon had assured her that they had plenty of money to cover the cost.

A student from Spain, Briel had come to the Miller home a few weeks before. According to Brendon, she had spent the several months previous waiting tables at a restaurant, so Felicity found a sense of satisfaction in providing what she considered a step up for Briel. Certainly, the nanny reciprocated, offering Felicity some blessed relief from the unrelenting humdrum of her usual routine.

Until Briel had come to work for the Millers, Felicity had felt trapped at home, unwilling to take her two young children anywhere where they might break something, which was everywhere. Unwilling to let Alex play a second mother. Also, Felicity had to entertain, feed, change, direct, and teach the two littles with almost no physical assistance from Brendon and minimal assistance from Alex. Felicity had to be available twenty-four hours every day without a break.

Briel served as a substitute for Brendon, perhaps an attempt to alleviate his guilt for his own unwillingness to help. No, Felicity corrected herself. Brendon has never experienced guilt for anything. Instead, he tended to feel gratified by his self-proclaimed contributions: he made the money that allowed him to hire somebody to do his part of the grunt work. Thus, no need to show up.

It really is nice, Felicity persuaded herself. Though Felicity occasionally felt a twinge of resentment - she wished he would actually break a sweat himself to help on occasion - she had long ago given over dwelling on her sense of abandonment. If she lived her life angry at Brendon, all her joy would soon abscond, and Felicity refused to live a joyless life.

Felicity did not really believe that Brendon's dedication to work stemmed from a desire to take care of his family, but she let herself think it when it helped her feel better. In reality, success, accolades, rewards, admiration: Brendon craved them. He received enough motivation to work hard just from his work itself. Of course, the money he made proved a nice side effect that Felicity could enjoy. Still, she would have traded all the money he made for the relationship they had enjoyed when they were dating.

Trying to see the bright side, Felicity explained away her unhappiness. Thanks to Briel, Felicity could offer dedicated time to each individual child, uninterrupted by complaining siblings because Briel could handle any arising need. A smart, pretty, and very capable girl, Briel spent hours pushing the younger kids in the swing, all the while teaching them Spanish songs and quizzing them on basic science. Alex thought Briel was incredibly cool so had no problem hanging out with the exotic, experienced college student.

After the strange call and the inexplicable crash, the predictability of Briel’s interest had a calming effect on Felicity. As soon as the young woman walked through the door, the younger children mobbed her, demanding the treat which she often brought. Briel laughed, but she replied only by walking directly to the kitchen and taking over lunch service from Felicity, informing the children that they had to eat their “growing food first.”

“How was class last night?” Felicity asked once the kids were seated with their meals.

“It was fine,” responded Briel pleasantly, “My advisor says that I only need twelve more hours to graduate.”

“That’s wonderful!” Felicity exclaimed, though she suppressed an expression of disappointment. “You thought you had at least a year and a half left. That’s only one semester!”

“Yeah, but now I have to decide what to do after that.”

“Well, you can work here as long as you like!” Felicity offered sheepishly. “I mean until you figure out what to do. I don’t know what I will do when you leave!” Felicity could not deceive herself that someone as educated and competent as Briel would want a career as domestic help.

“Thanks,” she smiled. “I plan to help out as long as I'm needed.”

Falling into their normal easy banter, Felicity soon found her mind wandering to the morning's events. She felt safe sharing them with Briel, and she had been dying to talk about them. “You wouldn't believe the kind of morning I've had,” Felicity offered somewhat conspiratorially. “It's been so strange.” Felicity handed Noah's empty plate to Briel to clean. “First, we got a call at 6:30 this morning from a French lady.”

Felicity reached for Nicholas's plate, but when Briel held it out, it almost slipped. Briel's hand seemed to tremble from the weight. Smiling, Felicity reassured the young woman. “I was about your age when my hands started to weaken. It's just hormones.” Briel shot Felicity an appreciative look.

“Anyway,” Felicity continued, “then, two cars crashed right beside my house. One driver drove off in his car, and no one was in the other car. I mean, by the time I got there, no one was inside.”

Briel gave a slight start, suddenly setting down Alex's plate rather than running it under the faucet. “How unusual!” she replied, her jaw slightly tensed. Felicity watched in confusion as Briel's eyes locked briefly on some unseen object, perhaps visible only in her mind. A terse flexing of muscles in Briel's face resembled a smile before she picked up the conversation in a calm, disinterested tone. “You called the police, of course?”

“Of course,” Felicity replied weakly.

What the hell! she wondered. Briel's facial expressions had changed only subtly. In fact, most people wouldn’t even have noticed them, but Felicity had always been a good judge of character, and very observant when it came to people. She would not have won any competitions in communication, but she could tell what was happening with the people she was talking to. Unlike most other of her brain functions, motherhood had sharpened rather than diminished her ability to read people. Telling the difference between a child’s mindless but unfortunate accident and his willful destruction of property required a high degree of discernment. And what she discerned from Briel’s reaction was odd, not the casual response expected in a casual conversation. It seemed...vested.

Though she tried to laugh off her suspicion, Felicity couldn't quite pull it off. Instead, she felt uneasiness rear its head back over her resolve, her uneasiness from the middle of the night, from the noise and the shadow.

Flustered, Felicity excused herself and walked into the living room, hiding her agitation behind her computer. As she exited the room, Felicity thought she heard an almost silent sigh escape Briel’s lips. Something inexplicable had happened with the young Spanish woman. For the rest of the afternoon, Felicity remained home, forgoing her usual errands in favor of staying with her kids. Maybe Briel held no secrets that would affect the children, but Feicity’s hackles were up. She didn’t care to leave the kids alone with Briel at the moment, not while strange events seemed to converge around the Miller house.

By the time Felicity heard the rumble of Brendon's sports car pull into the garage that afternoon, the several hours of normalcy had returned Briel to her usual, collected self. Paranoid, Felicity chided herself again, slapped in the face by the thought of Brendon's levelheadedness. She had given up all scenarios that could explain Briel’s reaction to the car wreck and the phone - nothing made sense. Felicity decided that she must have mistaken Briel’s expressions. Maybe it was cultural - maybe the Spanish reacted differently, more dramatically when a friend told a story. Maybe Briel's behavior had merely expressed interest. The thought had eased Felicity’s mind to such an extent that by the time Brendon greeted her with a kiss, Felicity had let go of any concerns about Briel's odd behavior. She definitely didn’t want to broach the subject with Brendon unless she had something concrete to tell him; if she brought it up, Brendon would accuse her of being overly dramatic and emotional. Dismissal was his practice. Dismissal and rejection. Felicity hated them. Only when he and Felicity were alone. and he had turned his charm on, did he treat her with anything approaching kindness or respect, and that only happened once per week max, and when he had an agenda. She realized that she wished he would stay at work, that he would stay away except when he took her on dates, and the realization made her sad. Yet she did wish him away, even as she missed him.

“Oh, Felicity,” Brendon's address interrupted her musings, and Felicity forced a pleasant smile as she turned to him. “I wandered into a shop on Biltmore, because I had to get a gift for Aimée – I think I offended her last year when I told her to order herself whatever she wanted for Administrative Assistant's Day.” Brendon paused and grinned at himself before beginning his usual focused stride across the room to stand beside Felicity. “Anyway, I saw this, and I just thought of you. I remember how you like earthy jewelry.”

Reaching into his pocket, Brendon casually pulled up a strand of iridescent freshwater pearls, and Felicity felt her breath catch at the shock of the unexpected gift. True, judging by his offhand attitude, he hadn't put much thought into the gift, but Felicity always appreciated the spontaneous acts of kindness even more than the contemplated ones. Not that she particularly cared for flashy gifts like jewelry, but rarely did Brendon think of her when at work, and the feeling almost replaced her usual frustration. She even managed to suppress the pang of jealousy that pricked at her gut when Brendon mentioned Amy. Not that Brendon had ever given any hint of special attention to the woman, but she always just seemed present in her husband's life. And then all the odd comments from his coworkers. Just be thankful, Felicity counseled herself, checking her negative instincts. Brendon had trained her that with him, her instincts were often wrong.

She took the necklace from him, fingering the smooth shimmer of the beads with appreciation. The various orbs of grey and blue lay on a circle, each bead separated from its neighbor by a delicate silver filigree link. Where the center came together above her breastbone, a silver emblem anchored another link of chain which dropped a couple of inches to a small cluster of the beautiful little pearls at its lowest point. Though delicate and unassuming, Felicity realized that it must have cost a fortune. She reached her hand to his arm in a tender thanks.

“It's beautiful,” she smiled, trying to infuse the words with gratitude. “It's exactly what I like.”

Brendon wrapped his arm around Felicity's waist and grinned at her with an enthusiasm he usually reserved for others. “Glad I got it right,” he smirked before planting a solid kiss on her lips. Of course, even when he seemed affectionate, it was more just affected, but Felicity let herself believe because it helped her keep up her illusion of domestic tranquility. She still believed in the ideal; she just also believed that her husband had been a bit of a wolf in sheep’s clothing rather than a true adherent.

When a knock on the front door fractured the moment, Brendon pecked her on the cheek before dropping her to the floor. After regaining her balance, Felicity crossed over and opened the door to the hulking figure of her brother, Nick, his characteristic grin affixed to his mischievous face. All six-foot-four lanky inches of him intruded upon her doorway, and he picked her up in a big, brotherly bear-hug. Felicity felt like a ping-pong ball between hugs. “Hey, sis!” He still grinned as his eyes searched Felicity's living room and fixed themselves on Briel.

“Well, it would be nice if my little brother actually came to my house to see me,” Felicity murmured. “She has a boyfriend, you know.”

“Things can change, Lissie,” Nick smirked, again casting an appreciative glance Briel's way.

With Nick's entrance, Felicity purposely set aside her uneasiness and turned her mind back to dinner. It wouldn't fix itself. Nick always seemed to supply levity to Felicity's intensity, a good combination for companionship. As she considered her present company, the evening seemed to promise an unusual level of enjoyment. Fortunately, Brendon liked Nick as well, and never complained of the brother-in-law's presence. Wandering toward the middle of the room, Nick took up post on the living room chair which sat nearest to the dinner table. Briel and Brendon had seated themselves at the dining table and had begun a conversation in Spanish. Feigning casual interest, Nick hovered at the edges of politeness near where Brendon and Briel spoke. He tried, using his two years of high school Spanish, to comprehend what they said but seemed to have limited success.

Brendon could speak fluently. Many Spanish speakers had married into his extended family, so he had heard Spanish spoken since he was a child. Add in several years’ study in school, and Brendon could almost pass as a native speaker. Like some doting fangirl, Felicity eavesdropped on the conversation, waiting for a lull so she could insert the only interesting thing that had happened to her in months – the wreck. Of course, her husband would assume Felicity had nothing interesting to say.

After a moment of stewing, Felicity found herself drawn to the conversation between her au pair and her husband. Nick had grown bored and moved to play with his niece and nephews. Although she had a limited vocabulary, Felicity had a patchy understanding of Spanish. As she listened to the exchange, words that Felicity knew floated through the arch from the dining room. She could only extrapolate a few phrases of Briel's request.

“Give Felicity a rest…” Felicity heard, “need a few days off…kids to their grandma’s…a month…” A month? Did Felicity understand correctly that she would have to live a month without Briel? The thought horrified her, but Brendon seemed inclined to agree with Briel. Almost as if the pair had already made the decision without consulting her. With Briel's earlier reactions about the car wreck, her request stirred suspicion in Felicity's mind. Surely the nanny would have discussed a vacation request with Felicity first – Felicity ran the house, theoretically. “Parecera.” She had heard that word and could never remember what it meant; she would have to look it up.

“What are you talking about?” she finally demanded, trying to hide her irritation.

“Excuse me?” Brendon demanded, obviously irked by the interruption.

“I thought I heard Briel ask for some time off. I mean,” Felicity hedged, suddenly sheepish about interrupting a conversation so obviously intended to exclude her. Still, it did involve her. “I know my Spanish is not great, but I just thought I heard something.”

“Can I finish?” he pressed. “We're just discussing possibilities. When it involves an actual decision, I'll involve you.”

Embarrassed, Felicity mumbled acquiescence. How could he treat her like that in front of her brother and Briel? Felicity didn't even look at Nick because she knew how upset he would be at the rudeness. Instead, she tried to adopt a completely indifferent expression so Nick would think the jab hadn't bothered her. Her earlier gratitude for the necklace evaporated, though she knew that the incidents were completely separate in Brendon’s mind. One reality of life with Brendon? He could be genuinely and intensely kind and generous. Another reality? The next instant, he could prove totally inconsiderate and almost cruel. On most days, though, he stayed at the office so long that his jabs affected her little. Brendon seemed to have a great capacity for generosity, and Felicity believed in minimizing the failings of people and focusing on the positives. If the occasional Mr. Hyde appeared from Brendon, Felicity could overlook the offense. Even if she hated him - and herself - for a while afterwards.

When Felicity finally brought dinner to the table, Brendon apparently decided to involve her. He said plainly, “Briel thinks you need some time off.”

Is that what she thinks? Felicity deadpanned in silent sarcasm. “Why would you say that?” Felicity asked aloud, turning to Briel.

“Well, I see how hard you work,” Briel replied. At least someone does. “And I think it would be nice for you to have a break where you didn’t have to worry about the kids at all. Plus, I have friends coming unexpectedly into town this week, and it would be the perfect time for me to take some time off.”

“Oh,” Felicity answered meekly, surprised that the young woman would ask for a vacation after only three weeks of work. Felicity's earlier suspicions resurfaced. “Well, of course, if you need time off. I'm sure we could arrange time off for you. I can handle things here. You don't have to wait until the kids are gone.”

“Actually, Felicity,” Brendon interrupted, “I've been talking to Briel about doing this since I hired her, but I never nailed anything down. And as it turns out, Bill requested just today that as many people take vacation in the next two months as possible, avoid the typical vacation times of the summer and holidays. Now would be as good a time as any. We can send the kids to your mom's,” Brendon offered, though it sounded as if the decision had already been made. Did she imagine the brief look exchanged between her husband and Briel?

Felicity felt her nanny's eyes boring into her as Brendon continued his explanation. “Bill is encouraging management to take any long breaks now so that he doesn't run short during the Christmas season. Considering Briel's request, I decided to take advantage of the timing.”

“But,” Felicity protested, “I heard you say you wanted to send the kids to my mom and dad for a month.” Again, Brendon's eyes darted toward Briel. “Briel said she only needs a week, and your vacations are usually two weeks.”

Brendon glanced down nervously at the notepad under his hand, tracing geometric patterns with the pen he had picked up at some point in the conversation. Of course, he had assumed that Felicity wouldn't understand the conversation. Why would he assume that? Felicity posed bitterly. Just because lack of sleep, hormones, and the constant demands of childcare have stripped me of all higher-level thinking skills, and he thinks I’m stupid.

“I just wanted to keep my options open,” Brendon hedged with an uncharacteristic lack of force. “We might take a longer vacation. Or maybe you'll enjoy the time off so much you won't want to come right back. I wanted to plan for contingency.”

Felicity couldn't figure out the strange tension that kept flitting across his face, or his repeated silent exchanges with Briel. Everything felt strange and disconcerting. Was there something going on between them? Then, seeming to gather himself, Brendon turned his twinkling smile on Felicity. “Or maybe you won’t want to come back at all once I let you out of the house,” he teased. When he reached his hand to take hers with his usual warmth, when she felt the reassuring familiarity of his touch, her stubborn suspicions evaporated.

“Of course, you're right,” she allowed. “I guess if we're going to do something this far outside the norm, we should work some flexibility into the plan.” She always offered him explanations for his insanity, she realized.

Brendon used their linked hands to pull her onto his lap, and Felicity pushed her doubts deep into oblivion, wrapping her arm around his neck. “You just keep that idea in mind,” he teased, wrapping her in his vice-like arms. The intense gleam in his eye made her face flush. “I'm pretty sure you'll be surprised at what I have planned for the next few weeks. Flexibility is key.”

“Um, we're still here,” Nick reminded them, and Felicity couldn't help but laugh.

“I can remedy that,” Brendon countered and, keeping one arm around Felicity's waist, he rose and headed toward the exit. “We'll see you in a couple of weeks,” he deadpanned, reaching to open the door.

Felicity peeled Brendon's hand from her waist and stopped, breathlessly chuckling after the exertion. “Not so fast,” she insisted, stepping back into the center of the room. “Nick and I have some things to talk about.”

“There are these things called phones,” Brendon insisted, but he didn't move to ensnare Felicity again.

“No, really,” Nick agreed. “I should go now.”

“Children,” Felicity accused with feigned superiority, and then headed back to the table where Briel sat smirking at the spectacle before her. Seeing the young woman brought Felicity back to her early disquiet, and she reverted quickly to her previous curiosity. Not that Felicity expected to have time to satisfy herself about the nanny. Not with Brendon and Nick in the room.

“Nick,” she changed the subject, “sit down and eat this food I cooked! I worked way too hard to let you leave without even tasting it.”

“Well, as long as it doesn't kill me,” Nick mocked in a mumble. Five minutes later though, the entire crew had tucked noisily into their dinner, and Felicity smiled. Even with all that happened over the next few days, the normal atmosphere of that dinner would stand an irony against the surreal events that followed.

To her surprise, Brendon had already spoken to Felicity's parents, and before bedtime that night, Briel had packed the kids’ bags into the van, and Grandpa was driving them down the road and out of sight. Everything felt so rushed – so Brendon. Spontaneous, insistent, confident. Still, had he really managed all of that since the pre-dinner conversation with Briel? The kids seemed excited, but Felicity worried that such a sudden and dramatic change might cause them emotional trauma. When she last glimpsed the car, Felicity let out a sigh, torn between relief at the removed burden and concern for her children. In the end, however, a sudden thought decided Felicity, making her glad to see the kids go. Whatever Briel said, the nanny had acted strangely all day. It made Felicity very confused about her young helper. What did she really know about the woman? Had Felicity felt so desperate for assistance that she had let a stranger with strange secrets into her home? With the kids safely in the hands of Grandma and Grandpa, Felicity could relax her concerns for a few days. Maybe in the time before her vacation, Felicity could dig a little deeper into Briel's identity. Maybe the young woman was everything she claimed, but Felicity would know before she let the woman near her children again. Felicity certainly hoped that she wouldn't have to forfeit all the help Briel provided. Whatever the case, though, Felicity needed to know for sure.

Unaware of Felicity's anxiety, Nick convinced Briel to accompany him to a nearby coffee shop, so Felicity saw the two of them to their cars soon after the children had left. He's asking for trouble, Felicity mused, though she didn't worry too much for him. Nick was a big boy. Besides, if Briel left the house with him, Felicity would have some time and space to think. Stay safe, brother, she silently willed, though the absurdity of Briel's tiny frame affecting the giant Nick seemed laughable. Still, Felicity couldn't shake her unease as she waved them goodbye.

“Thanks, Brendon,” she offered upon reentering the house. “This vacation might do me some good.”

“Of course it will,” he agreed in complete confidence. “I have to go back to the office for a couple of hours to prepare some things before we leave, but I told Bill not to expect me in at all for the next week at least, and then only by FaceTime for a week after that. Prepare yourself for an exotic adventure,” he grinned.

Despite her suspicion, Felicity found her own face reflecting his. “Seriously!” Felicity gushed genuinely, her concerns temporarily forgotten. “Where are we going?”

“Don't you worry your pretty little head over it,” he teased, grabbing Felicity around the waist and whispering, “…Remember. Flexible.” He placed his lips gently in the indentation below her ear, causing a slight chill to run down her back.

“Now I'm scared,” she laughed as he placed her back on the ground.

“You should be,” he offered rakishly.

Felicity followed her husband to the front door, laying an apparently complacent kiss on his lips before shoving him out the door. She heard a muffled “Hey!” as she slammed it shut and clicked the lock into place, grinning at the finality of the door's rattling. Even as she did it, she shook internally. Sometimes Brendon could take a joke; sometimes not so much. She might have some nice silent treatment and derision to accompany her first few days of vacation. Or she might have amused him, bought his interest for a couple of days until he got bored.

As if in answer to her expectation, Felicity felt her cell phone vibrate and looked down to see Brendon's text message.

You’ll regret that later, he threatened, and Felicity smirked. Interest, then…

She heaved a sigh of relief.

With Brendon gone and no kids to consider, she did something she never did – what she felt like.

Are you still with Briel? she texted Nick.

We just left the coffee shop, he responded. Get this: I invited her back to my apartment, and she said she would love to.

Well, congrats, I guess. The development overthrew Felicity's planned spying session.

Don't congratulate me yet, he continued. She said she would love to some other time. She has some stuff to do.

Felicity's sensors rose to attention. Maybe the events of the day had spurred her on to some specific activity. So, did you offer to help? she prodded.

She has to do some work at home, but she said she couldn't afford any distractions, “even pleasant ones.” Her words. Awesome, right?

Actually, it is, Felicity thought but didn't type, invigorated at the thought of what she planned to do. It's probably a good thing that she turned you down. After seeing your place, she might rethink going out with you – though she might just be putting you off to be with her BOYFRIEND.

Not everyone is as neurotic about cleanliness as your husband, he jabbed. And we ARE going out; I just don't know when or where. Boyfriend, shmoyfriend.

Sounds like a sure thing, Felicity ribbed. I gotta go.

Gotcha, Nick agreed. See you in the morning. I assume I'm feeding the dog while you’re out of town?

And watering the plants, Felicity agreed.

Joy!

G-o-o-d-b-y-e, Nick! Felicity more than hinted. Talk to you tomorrow, not today.

Lol. Bye.

Felicity honestly did not understand what had set off her sensors with Briel. Still, finding out about the young woman seemed easier and less threatening than trying to spy on Brendon or figure out the cause of all the strange occurrences from the past 24 hours. All Felicity intended to do was figure out if Briel was who she said she was. With the kids gone and Brendon ensconced at work for the rest of the day, there was no real reason for Felicity to refrain. She had hours to find out all she could about Briel Cortes.

Starting with her home address.