Diana's cabin in the preserve...

"Mart!" Diana scolded, shooing him away as he attempted to take the heavy box of groceries that she carried. "Don't you think you're carrying enough already?"

Mart shrugged and adjusted his grip on the three sacks of groceries that he'd been carrying for the last mile. "I can handle more," he protested. "Here." He handed her the lightest of the three sacks. "You take this, and I'll carry the box."

"Two bags," she counter-offered.

"You drive a hard bargain, Miss Lynch," Mart teased, and plucked the box out of her arms before handing over the second sack. They walked through the preserve, fresh from Lytell's Grocery Store, in silence for several moments before Diana spoke again.

"It was awfully nice of you to volunteer to help with the grocery run," she said, her eyes on the path ahead of them. "Mummy is always so busy with the twinnies, and Daddy works so hard..." her voice trailed off. "I've been thinking of dropping out of school," she confided, her voice low even though they were alone. "To help with the twins." Chewing her bottom lip, she said, "I may as well. I seem to miss so much school as it is in order to help Mummy. And it isn't as if I get very good marks."

"Drop out of school?" Mart's eyes boggled. He'd realized that Diana's family was poor, but leaving school without graduating was so far out of his frame of reference that he couldn't get his mind around it. He vaguely remembered the pretty girl from his years at the public schools in Sleepyside. If he wasn't mistaken, she was the same age as his sister, which meant that she should have graduated this past June. She had probably missed too many days to qualify, he realized, and was being forced to return for another year before graduating. Though it didn't sound as if she were terribly keen on going back...

"And Dan Mangan has offered to marry me," she continued. "I wouldn't be at home to help with the twins, then, but he has a good job as a policeman, and he's told me that he'd be happy to help support my parents."

Mart frowned. "Dan Mangan?" he asked, running through the list of people he remembered from elementary school and coming up empty.

"He moved here from the city a year or two ago," Diana said. "And he's very mysterious. He doesn't seem to have any family." She stopped, as if she couldn't imagine such a thing. "But I don't really want to get married. Not so young, at any rate."

Mart nodded in understanding. Despite his infatuation with Diana, even he could see that it would be a mistake for her to get married so young. She'd spent her life tucked away from society in the heart of the preserve. And while he had no doubt that she had a fine character, she needed to experience more of the world before settling down.

"Don't do it," he said impulsively, stopping on the path. He would have grasped her hand, but his own were too full of the Lynch family's groceries to manage it.

"Don't do what?" Diana asked. "Don't marry Dan? Or don't drop out of school? Or don't go back to school?"

"Yes! I mean, no. Don't marry Dan. And don't drop out of school!" Before he realized what he was doing, he'd set the box and sack down on the path and tugged her closer to him. "You shouldn't have to give up your education. It's not right! And I don't know your parents very well, but I highly doubt they'd be pleased with this plan of yours, either."

Diana stared up at him, her violet eyes wide. "But—"

"No buts," he said firmly. "You're not dropping out of school. And you're not getting married just to make life a little easier for you or your parents."

He wasn't sure how it had happened, but Diana was standing even closer now. And instead of merely holding her hand, he seemed to have placed his other hand on her waist.

"I'll help you," he promised, knowing that he'd find a way to make things work. He wouldn't be hiding in the preserve forever, after all. Not if he had a reason to make it out...

"I believe you," Diana said, surprising them both. "I don't know why, but I do." Her smile grew, and then her hands were on his waist, and she was awfully close, and her hair smelled wonderful. And then his lips were on hers, and he knew he'd do anything to stay with this enchanting treasure buried in the preserve.

Shack in the preserve...

"You expect me to believe that you've changed?"

James Winthrop Frayne II lay on a makeshift bed, his bound leg elevated on a pile of tattered blankets. His stepfather stood beside the bed, his stooped shoulder bringing him closer than Jim found comfortable.

"I didn't say I've changed," Jonesy said, fingering the hat he held in his hands. "I said I'm doing something different."

"Something different," Jim said, laughing bitterly. "Something different. Different than squandering my family's money? Different than taking advantage of my mother? Different than taking your anger out on me?" Jim's eyes blazed, his rage no longer concealed.

"Yes," he replied. "I'm doing something different. And don't go getting it in your head that I've changed. I never said that. I haven't changed. I just see things a bit different now, that's all."

Jim gripped the edge of the low, rough bed and wished that he had an easy weapon handy. Fists were all well and good, but he still couldn't bear weight on the snake-bitten leg, and Jonesy wasn't one to be taken by surprise.

"I'm done with Matthew Wheeler," Jonesy said, meeting his stepson's mistrustful glare with equanimity. "And I can make sure that he's done with us."

Jim blinked.

"I might not be a good man," Jonesy continued, "but that doesn't mean I don't recognize good in other people. How else do you think I met your mother?"

Jim tensed again, but Jonesy carried on before Jim could lambaste him for having the gall to mention Katie Frayne.

"Mr. Belden's a good man," Jonesy continued. "Didn't deserve what Wheeler did to him. And you didn't deserve what I did to you," he admitted gruffly. Again, he plunged ahead before Jim could respond. "And, like it or not, I didn't deserve what Wheeler did to me. Asking a man to turn over his own child, stepchild or not, is a terrible thing to do."

It was left unsaid that only days ago, Jonesy had been willing to do just that, and worse.

"I can put a stop to it," Jonesy repeated, and this time he waited for Jim's reaction.

"You can't possibly expect me to believe you," Jim said, pulling at the blanket that covered him to his waist. Brian Belden had taken excellent care of him and he was recovering from the potentially lethal snake bite as well as could be expected, but he was most certainly not so relieved to be alive that he was willing to trust the man who had considered killing him in his sleep.

The same man Jim had considered killing in his sleep.

"How?" Jim demanded. "Are you going to burn the Manor House down around his ears?" Scorn dripped from his voice, and he knew that it would be a long time before he would forgive Jonesy. If ever.

Jonesy fished a cigarette from the ever-present package in his front breast pocket. He lit it and took slow, careful puffs, savouring the slow coil of nicotine spreading through his body. "If you had to name a good quality about me," he said slowly, "what would it be?"

Jim's jaw dropped open. A good quality? About Jonesy? He ran through the list of traits he generally admired. Truthfulness. Integrity. Dedication.

None of them could be applied to Jonesy.

"Observant."

Jim swivelled to the owner of the thin, reedy voice. Brom was standing in the doorway, looking frail but alert.

"Observant," he repeated. "You didn't miss a damn thing that went on at Ten Acres."

Jonesy took another puff. "Not just Ten Acres."

The three men were silent.

"Are you saying..." Jim frowned, unsure of the direction of the conversation, and if he was reading the subtext properly.

"I'm smarter than I look," Jonesy told him. "And I don't miss much." He ground out the cigarette and straightened his stooped form to the fullest height he could manage. "If you'll excuse me, I have some business to take care of."

He shuffled out of the shack, patting the pack of cigarettes absent-mindedly. A moment later, Brian and Peter Belden entered the cabin with the spoil of the traps they'd set. "Where's Jonesy off to?" Brian asked, setting down the rabbit that would become their supper.

"He had to see a man about a horse," Brom informed him, a wisp of a smile brightening his features.

The preserve…

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Honey asked, following Trixie along a well-worn path.

Trixie stumbled over tree branch and swore, her nerves completely frayed. "Of course it's a terrible idea!" she exclaimed, wiping her forehead and leaving behind a smear of dirt. "It doesn't matter. Didn't you hear what Jonesy said? Jim's been bitten! By a snake!"

Honey paled and had to steady herself against the trunk of a tree.

"I have to see him," Trixie said, biting her lip as she waited for her friend to recover. "You don't understand. What if..."

Honey winced and rejoined her on the path. "Just don't start crying," she said, tucking her arm around her friend's waist. "Jim won't think you're very manly."

Trixie clapped a hand over her mouth and stifled a hysterical giggle. "Oh, Honey!" she wailed. "It's all such a mess!"

Honey squeezed her arm. "You'll fix it. Jim will be fine, you'll see. And you'll figure out a way to be with him."

The pair continued on the path for a few moments until Honey had another thought. "Do you really think that Mr. Belden and Brian won't recognize you?" she asked.

Trixie started walking even faster. "I don't care."

"Not even if it puts them in danger?" Honey pressed.

"It won't," Trixie asserted, eyes straight ahead of her on the path. "I won't let it." And the truth was, she was tired of hiding. Tired of hiding her existence from her family. Tired of hiding in the labyrinth that formed the preserve. Tired of hiding her real feelings for Jim. Was it safe to come out of hiding? Probably not. Was she going to do it anyway?

The path ended abruptly in a clearing. The shack that dominated the space was old, weathered, and possibly the most beautiful thing Trixie had ever seen. She ran ahead of Honey, and then stopped short at the door, suddenly reluctant to knock.

"Just do it," Honey advised, and nudged her arm.

Trixie knocked, the door swinging open at her touch. "Jim!" she breathed, seeing the red-haired man resting on a makeshift pallet. "You're okay!" she said, rushing into the shack uninvited. Her eyes raked over his form, inspecting him for injuries, even as she struggled to keep her hands from doing the same.

"Oh, Jim," she repeated, struggling to contain the tears pricking at her eyes. She blinked furiously, chagrined at her uncharacteristically feminine behaviour. She was Trixie Belden! Tree-climber, fashion-impaired, and well-protected against falling for the charms of the opposite sex. She did not cry just because someone had a booboo!

But apparently her eyes were unaware of the fact.

"Good gravy," a voice muttered. "Is he going to faint again?"

Trixie blushed furiously and dashed away the tears trickling down her cheeks. "I didn't faint," she protested, putting her hands on her hips and frowning in the direction of the voice. "I was just a little… unsteady for a minute."

Jonesy nodded. "Right. You keep telling yourself that, kid."

"You fainted?" Jim questioned, one ginger brow arched. She swallowed hard, staring at the simple movement. It was only an eyebrow. And yet, she was fascinated by the way it contrasted with his pale complexion. And the way his freckles stood out, almost perfectly matching the ruddy brow.

"Isn't that what Trixie would have done?" she asked. "I mean, if she heard that you'd been bitten by a copperhead?"

Jim frowned. "I don't think so. She didn't strike me as the fainting type."

Pressing her lips together, Trixie replied tartly, "You'd be surprised."

"Would I?" he questioned thoughtfully. "It's true that we haven't spent much time together…"

"Course she'd surprise you, boy," Jonesy muttered. "She's a woman, ain't she? You can live with one for years and never know what's going on inside her head. Doesn't mean you don't love her, though."

"It's true," Peter Belden said, and Trixie startled violently at the sound of her father's voice. "I loved my Helen with all my heart, but she surprised me daily."

"And you really think that my Trixie would actually have fainted?" Jim pondered, drawing Trixie's attention back to him.

"I can practically guarantee it," she told him.

"Your Trixie?" Peter questioned, sounding both amused and disgruntled. "I don't expect she'd appreciate you referring to her that way."

"Again," Trixie muttered under her breath, "you'd be surprised."

"I've seen this Trixie," Jonesy said, and Trixie's heart leapt into her throat. Out of all the people in the shack—her father, her brother, her, well, her Jim—could it really be Jonesy who saw through her disguise? "Always tramping through the preserve, that one. Wears jeans instead of jodhpurs." He paused, and Trixie held her breath. "Huh. Boy, if you can get that girl to fall in love with you, and to admit that she would have fainted if she heard you were bitten by the copperhead, I'll turn Ten Acres over to you. No strings."

Jim's jaw dropped.

"Now don't look like that," Jonesy bristled. "I told you I was doing things differently now, didn’t I?"

"Why not just give it to him?" Honey wondered aloud. "It's Jim's anyway, isn't it?"

Jonesy shrugged. "Yes and no. Legally, it's mine until I die. Not that it much matters. I still think it's complete hogwash that the boy says he's in love. You've seen the girl, what, once? The chances of you actually being in love and her feeling the same way are hardly worth mentioning."

"'The boy' is right here," Jim said, temper flaring. Trixie, sitting on the corner of the pallet that served as his bed, could feel his struggle and knew that he was fighting the urge to stand and challenge the older man. "And I hardly think that you're in any position to tell me what I do or do not feel," he continued, and Trixie breathed a sigh of relief that though his body was still stiff with tension, he wasn't struggling to rise.

The two men glared at each other until Jonesy shuffled a step away, appearing more stooped than ever. Had Jim managed to face down his stepfather without even standing, Trixie wondered? It seemed as if Jonesy had backed down. She looked to Jim for confirmation, but he was frowning at his legs, adjusting the rough blankets that were intended to cover him.

Trixie gasped, staring at the white bandages stained with red, and the realization of the danger of the bite washed over her anew.

"Are you sure that he's okay?" Trixie demanded, twisting her torso in order to lock eyes with her brother. "Are you certain that all the venom was removed?"

Brian made a disgruntled sound and crossed his arms in front of his chest, as if affronted by the question.

"Because I know you don't have antivenin, and if there's any poison left in his bloodstream…" Trixie rattled on, too worried about Jim to care about offending the doctor.

"For your information," Brian said, "Jim had the already sucked out all of the venom before I arrived, as far as I can tell."

"And did you check his mouth for sores?" Trixie demanded. "Because if he had any sores in his mouth, then the venom could have—"

"Of course he would have checked," Honey said, placing her hand on Trixie's arm in what was intended to be a soothing gesture, and smiling at Brian. "I'm certain that Dr. Belden has taken exemplary care of Jim."

"It's only basic first aid," Brian muttered, but Trixie could tell that he was pleased with Honey's defense of him. Trixie rolled her eyes, prepared to exchange an amused glance with her best friend over her easy manipulation of the situation, only to find that Honey had ducked forward and was using her hair to shield her face.

Oh, good grief, Trixie thought, more amused than annoyed. Was Honey actually attracted to Brian? They'd never actually spent much time together, what with Brian being older and more serious than either of them in the few months they'd shared when they were all home from their various schools. They'd spent considerably more time with Mart, but Trixie, dense as she was in regards to recognizing good matches, was pretty sure that sparks were unlikely to fly in that direction.

And was it only a few days ago that they had reminded each other of their pledge to steer clear of romantic entanglements?

"I didn't really faint," Trixie blurted, suddenly anxious to cling to the notion that she hadn't fallen prey to a member of the opposite sex. "I was just pretending. Because that's what Trixie would have done."

She flushed as the rest of the room stared at her in astonishment at her abrupt declaration. She turned to Honey, a desperate plea for her friend to smooth over the awkwardness of the moment.

"Brian, would you like to go for a walk? I saw some lovely wildflowers the other day, but I haven't ventured on as many paths as I would have liked because I'm always worried about getting lost! But I don't imagine that's a problem for you, is it?"

Brian's features relaxed, the tense and surly expression giving way to simple enjoyment. "I'd like that," he admitted, and offered her his arm. Trixie watched as her brother and best friend left the shack without sparing a glance for anyone but each other.

"Oh, good grief," Jim muttered, shifting restlessly and once again attempting to cover the wound on his leg. "The grumpiest man in the shack and he's the one going for a walk with a girl?"

Trixie's lips twitched. "What would you say if I told you that you could be going for a walk with your precious Trixie by this time tomorrow?" she asked, her tone teasing.

Jim smiled politely, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I appreciate the thought," he said, "but going for a walk with you pretending to be Trixie just isn't the same as actually going for a walk with Trixie." He frowned, as if trying to work out whether his statement had made sense or not.

"Ah, but what if I told you that you could really see your Trixie tomorrow?" she pressed.

"Don't tease," he warned her. "You know that's not possible."

Trixie raised her eyebrow. "Not possible? You're sitting in a shack in the middle of a game preserve, recovering from a snake bite that you received when you protected your stepfather." They both ignored Jonesy's mutter of discontent from the other side of the shack. "And the grumpiest man in the room has gone for a walk with the prettiest girl in the shack. And you think it's not possible for me to have Trixie here tomorrow?"

"Well, when you put it that way…" He shook his head. "No. I just can't see it happening, much as I want to," he finished sadly.

"The preserve is a strange place," Trixie said, her tone cryptic. "I wouldn't rule it out just yet."

A fierce pounding on the dilapidated door of the shack drew Trixie's attention, and she turned just in time to see Peter Belden open the door to admit none other than Jane Morgan.

"You!" she cried, pointing a finger in Trixie's direction. "I can't believe you!"

Trixie froze, wondering if her identity had somehow been discovered. But no, if she were to be discovered, it certainly wouldn't be by the likes of petty, self-involved Jane Morgan!

"You showed the letter I wrote you!" Jane accused, shaking a crumpled piece of paper in her fist at her. "I can't believe you!"

"Oh!" Trixie exclaimed, brightening immediately. "Well, yes. Of course I did. It was mine to share, after all. You did give it to me, didn't you?"

"Well, yes, but… Tell him, Tad! Tell him that she shouldn't have spread it around!" Jane's face flushed a most unbecoming shade of red, but Tad didn't seem to notice. Instead, he silently watched her with what Trixie could only assume was sympathy.

"Good grief, Jane!" Trixie exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. "What on earth are you doing yelling at me when you have a perfectly nice guy trying to help you?"

Jane whirled to stare at Tad, who seemed to find the tops of his shoes suddenly fascinating. "But—" she began.

"No," Trixie interrupted, making an effort to curb her temper and to speak as patiently as possible, even though what she really wanted to do was to smack Jane upside the head for treating Tad so poorly. "I'm only going to say this once. If you think I'm treating you poorly, it's because that's what I want you to think! I am treating you poorly! Now, if you want to spend time with someone who will treat you well, all you have to do is to look at Tad."

Jane threw her hands in the air and rolled her eyes. "Oh, please!" she exclaimed. "Tad," she said, turning to the young man at her side. "Explain it to him! Explain what it means to like someone!"

Tad raised his head. "Well, it involves a lot of frustration, that's for sure," he said. "At least, that's how I feel when I'm around you."

"And that's how I feel about Ross!" Jane agreed.

"And how I feel about Trixie," Jim interjected mournfully.

"And how I feel for no girl," Trixie said.

Warming to the subject, Tad continued. "It's a lot of work, liking someone. At least, it is the way I like Jane."

"And the way I like Ross!" Jane agreed.

"And the way I like Trixie," Jim sighed.

"And the way I like no girl," Trixie quipped.

"Daydreams," Tad said, his thoughtful tone turning dreamy. "Daydreams about all my wishes coming true. Passion. Patience. Impatience. Hours spent just watching her. Embarrassing myself in the hope that she'll feel the way I do. Hard work. That's what it feels like to like Jane."

"And what it feels like to like Ross."

"And what it feels like to Trixie."

"And what it feels like to like no girl."

"Then how can you not understand how I feel?" Jane demanded of Trixie.

Tad shook his head. "And Jane, why can't you understand how I feel?"

"And Trixie, why can't you understand how I feel?" Jim asked, grasping her hand and causing her to slide away from him and off the pile of blankets in her surprise.

"Why are you asking me?" Trixie demanded, snatching her hand back.

Jim shrugged, relaxing back on his pallet and placing his hands behind his head. "You're playing the role of Trixie, aren't you?"

"Enough!" Trixie cried, scrambling to her feet. "Enough! Tad, I'll do my best to help you," she said, feeling a pang of sympathy for the young man who obviously cared deeply for Jane. "Jane," she continued, facing the grumpy girl, "I would like you if I could. If I were ever going to like a girl, it would be you." While Jane was still gaping, she turned to Jim. "Jim," she said, drawing on every last reserve of her courage, "If I were ever going to like a man, it would be you. And tomorrow, tomorrow I promise that each of you will find yourselves happy with the one you like, and with the one who likes you."

With that, she swept from the shack, determined that she would keep her promise to each of them.

Elsewhere in the preserve…

Despite having grown up a stone's throw from the preserve, Mart had forgotten the unparalleled feeling of lying in a clearing, closing his eyes, and enjoying the sounds of nature.

Of course, he hadn't often had the opportunity to lie down with his head cradled in the lap of a beautiful girl, either, which went far to explain why the memory was not as vivid as what he was currently experiencing, and what he was sure he would remember for the rest of his life.

"Come away with me," he said, breaking the stillness of the quiet clearing. The hand that had been stroking his hair paused, then resumed, though it trembled.

"What?" Diana laughed. "Run away with you? To where? I don't even know where you live!"

Mart caught at the hand that had been smoothing his overgrown curls and held it to his heart. "Does it matter?"

Diana was silent.

"I won't live in the preserve forever," he promised. "And when I leave, I want you to come with me. You can have a new life! You could finish your schooling. You could get a job." He paused to smile. "You could marry me."

"Oh, you!" Diana cried, laughing shakily and slapping at him with the hand he wasn't holding.

"I'm serious," Mart said, sitting up and losing himself in her violet eyes. "We can make it happen."

"I believe you," she whispered, ducking her head, and Mart couldn't wait any longer. Threading his hand through her silky dark hair, he pulled her mouth to his, muffling her cry of surprise. A brush of his lips, a nibble on her lower lip, and she was kissing him back, and they were both lying on the meadow floor, and Mart suddenly knew that whether or not he ever left the preserve, he'd found home.

Near the shack in the preserve…

"Omigosh. Omigosh. Omigosh!" Trixie paced nervously, trampling the grass at the side of the path. "Are you sure this is going to work?"

Honey smiled and stood directly in front of her friend, effectively stopping her pacing. "You've gone over the plan more times than I can count," she said. "It will be fine."

"But there's just so much riding on—hey! You're not just saying this because you spent an awfully long time on that 'walk' with Brian and are so lovestruck that you don't really care what happens?"

"Trixie!" Honey chided gently. "Even if I were lovestruck, I would still care about what happens!"

"I know," Trixie admitted. "I'm just so nervous! Do you think my father—"

Taking Trixie's hand, Honey tugged her along the path that would lead to the shack. "Yes," she said. "I do. Now stop stalling and let's get this over with!"

The fact that her normally poised and polite friend was dragging her through the preserve in a bid to hurry what they both knew would be an awkward meeting was enough to lighten Trixie's spirits, and keep her from bolting.

The shack in the preserve…

"Okay," Trixie said, taking a deep breath and looking at each of the people gathered in the clearing surrounding the shack. "Mr. Belden," she said, addressing her father, "do you agree to let your daughter throw her fate in with Jim, if that's what she wants to do?"

Peter blinked in surprise at the question. "If that's what she wanted, I can't think of a better young man for her. Not that she needs my permission, of course." He smiled wistfully. "Trixie always did know her own mind, and I feel sure that she'd do what she wanted, no matter what I said."

"That's true," Trixie agreed seriously. "But she would want to know that you support her."

Peter nodded. "I do."

Trixie's heart warmed at the simple acknowledgement. She'd missed her father dreadfully. She'd missed him while she was away at school. She'd missed him when he seemed to be forever at work. She'd missed him when she hadn't known where he was, hadn't known if she would ever see him again. Most of all, though, she'd missed him when she knew exactly where he was, but couldn't reveal herself to him. The knowledge that she'd be able to drop her disguise soon was almost overwhelming.

But reuniting with her father was only part of her plan.

"Jim," she said, "do you promise that you'd still want to get to know Trixie if I brought her to you today? No matter what, you'd give her a chance?"

"I do," Jim promised earnestly. "That's all I'm asking for; a chance to get to know her. And prove to her how much I care."

Trixie had to turn away before he could see the blush that she knew was creeping up her face. Would he still feel the same way when he discovered that she'd been misleading him for days?

"And, Jane," Trixie said, feeling the slightest twinge of sympathy for the girl. "You still want to date me?"

Jane nodded eagerly.

"But if I give you the chance this afternoon, and you say no, you'll give Tad a chance?"

Jane shrugged. "Sure, I guess. Why not? Tad's not a bad guy. But it's not as if I'm going to say no to you."

Once again, Trixie was flabbergasted by Jane's forthrightness. Trixie had always prided herself on speaking plainly, but Jane was leaving her in the dust with her brutal honesty about what she wanted.

Lastly, Trixie turned to Tad. "And you'll still be willing to date Jane, if that's what she decides?"

Tad nodded. "Of course," he said, smiling at Jane. "How could I not?"

"Okay, then." Trixie smiled brightly at each of the people in the clearing. "I'll be right back, then," she said, and strode toward the shack.

"Wait!" Jim protested. "Where are you going? You can't possibly fulfill any of the promises you've made us by going in the shack!"

Stifling a chuckle, Trixie wrenched open the door and muttered under her breath, "You'd be surprised."

Honey followed her, closing the door of the shack carefully behind them.

"You know," Peter said, staring after them thoughtfully. "There's something about that young man that reminds me of my daughter."

"I thought the same thing!" Jim exclaimed. "The first time I saw Ross in the woods, I wondered if he was a brother to Trixie!"

"A brother to Trixie, you say?"

Both Peter and Jim swivelled to face the couple entering the clearing. Mart, his eyes full of mischief, pulled Diana along behind him.

"You're the lad staying with Ross and Celia," Jim remembered.

"That's right," Mart agreed. "And this is Diana."

Peter, Jim, Tad, and Brian nodded politely at the couple while Jane surveyed Diana with narrowed eyes. "We're just waiting for—" Brian began, but Mart interrupted his oldest brother cheerfully.

"The culmination of all your desires?" he quipped.

"I suppose you could say that," Jim agreed.

"Well, I wouldn't want to miss that," Mart said, and took a seat in the circle that had formed around the fire. Diana joined him, sitting as close to him as she could in order to better ignore Jane's prying glances. Before the situation could become truly uncomfortable, the door of the shack opened and Trixie and Honey appeared, their disguises removed.

"Trixie!" Peter exclaimed, and she threw herself into his arms, laughing and crying at the same time. "But how did you— What have you— Where—? Is it really you?"

"It's me, Daddy," Trixie promised, her voice hoarse with tears that threatened to escape.

"Trixie?" Jim whispered. "You were Trixie all along?"

Extricating herself from her father's embrace, Trixie nodded shyly, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. "I didn't mean to mislead you," she said, the words coming out in a rush. "We were running away from Mr. Wheeler, and it wasn't safe for anyone to know who we were, or where we were, and we were worried about your stepfather…" Her voice trailed off.

"It was you all along," Jim said, his voice full of wonder as he raised a hand to touch her hair.

"Oh, great!" Jane exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air in disgust. "I had a crush on a girl!"

Trixie blushed profusely. "Yes," she said, "I really am sorry about that."

"Whatever," she said, and then paused. "Well, I definitely don't want to go out with you now." Out of the corner of her eye, she peeked at Tad. "So, I suppose…"

Tad raised an eyebrow. "Are you asking me out?" he queried, his voice full of mischief.

"Maybe," she huffed, and then caught Trixie's pointed glare. "Yes. Yes, I'm asking you out." She paused. "I know I haven't been all that nice to you…"

Tad shrugged. "I wouldn't have liked you to begin with if you were all sweetness and light. When you're not being cruel, you have a wicked sense of humour."

"Yeah?" Jane asked, smiling. "You think so?"

"I know so," Tad replied, taking her hand and leading her out of the clearing. "Maybe we can focus on having fun together. What do you think?"

The sound of Jane's surprised laughter drifted back to the people in the clearing.

"And you're Honey Wheeler," Brian said, crossing the clearing to stand beside her.

She nodded. "I know you don't have any reason to like me. Not with Matthew Wheeler as my father, but…"

"But I do," Brian said, taking her hand in his. "I do like you, Honey Wheeler. And I couldn't care less who your father is."

"Well, that's good news, seeing as how he won't be around for a good while." Jonesy entered the clearing, his steps confident, his stoop less pronounced.

"What do you mean?" Honey asked, eyes wide. "Has he left on a business trip? Is it safe for us to go back?"

Jonesy smiled, and Trixie was not at all sure that she liked the look of it. "Not exactly," he said. "It seems that someone didn't cover their tracks quite as well as he thought he did, and some of his more illegal actions have come to light. And he may or may not have pushed that nephew of his, Ben Riker, too far. He had lots of good information on Wheeler, Riker did."

Peter leaned forward. "What's this, now?"

Sergeant Molinson stepped into the preserve. "You're a free man, Peter," he said, his tone kind. "Wheeler's been implicated in the embezzlement. You're free to return to Crabapple Farm."

Trixie hadn't thought that she could be any happier than she already was, but she was proved wrong. "Home!" she exclaimed. "We can all go home!"

"All except me," Honey said, her voice small. "With Father in prison, I don't know if I even have a home anymore."

"Don't be ridiculous!" Trixie exclaimed, throwing her arm around her shoulders. "You'll always have a home with the Beldens!"

Brian nodded. "She certainly will," he declared, his voice full of promise.

"Remember?" Trixie pressed. "We're family. What's mine is yours. And now Crabapple Farm will be yours!"

"And Ten Acres will be yours," Jonesy said, nodding at his stepson. Glancing between Jim and Trixie, he said, "I think you've more than fulfilled the terms of our agreement."

Blushing, Trixie could only smile. Jim was free of the ire of both Matthew Wheeler and Jonesy, and he was going to have Ten Acres!

"After all," Jonesy continued, "I won't have much use for the place while I'm in prison."

Trixie's eyes widened. "Prison?" she squeaked.

"Yeah," Jonesy said, staring at the ground by his feet. "When I went to the authorities about Mr. Wheeler, well, it turned out that he'd been collecting information on me, too." Grimacing, he said, "Turns out the police didn't look kindly on my misappropriation of funds, either."

Molinson took Jonesy's arm and steered him out of the clearing.

"Wait!" Jim cried. Molinson and Jonesy both turned, but Jim was silent for a long minute. "Thank you," he finally said. "For turning in Matthew Wheeler. It doesn't make up for our past, but…"

"But it's something," Jonesy agreed. "I know. It's just like I said before. I may not be a good man, not ever. But I am doing some things differently."

"Yes," Jim said thoughtfully, "I suppose that you are."

For one bad moment Trixie was worried that Jim would forget the pain and stress Jonesy had caused him over the years and invite his stepfather to return to Ten Acres when he was finished serving his sentence. Instead, Molinson led the stooped man away in silence.

When the silence had stretched long enough, Peter put his arm around his children. "Let's go home," he said, and the clearing erupted with a resounding cheer.

Crabapple Farm, one week later…

"Mart! Stop hogging the remote," Brian complained, plucking the clicker from his brother's hand. "Not all of us want to watch Jeopardy!, you know."

"But all that information! All that trivia!" Mart whined, reluctantly releasing control.

"But, Mart," Diana said, snuggling closer to him on the loveseat they were sharing. "You're so smart already!" Grinning, Mart tugged until Diana was firmly placed in his lap, his arms snaked around her waist.

Trixie made a graphic retching sound but stopped when she saw the twinkle in the raven-haired beauty's eye. Diana Lynch, Trixie realized, was going to fit in just fine at Crabapple Farm. Between Jim's, Brian's, and Mart's tutoring, she'd already made serious inroads toward receiving her GED. And with Peter Belden hiring Ed Lynch at the Sleepyside First National Bank, the crushing weight of worry she'd felt for her family had been lifted. Not to mention that she was apparently already more than adept at smoothing Mart's ruffled feathers.

"Brian," Honey complained, "I don't think any of us wants to watch a documentary on the spread of disease in medieval Europe." She shuddered at the images flickering on the screen.

"There's a documentary on the Redlands coming up," Jim suggested, easing his arm over the back of the sofa and tucking it around Trixie's shoulders. "What do you say, Trix? What would you like to watch?"

"Maybe a movie?" she suggested. "Something with a happy ending," she said. "And some popcorn."

Jim laughed, tugging her to her feet so that they could raid the kitchen. "Anything else?" he teased.

"Mmm…" Trixie said thoughtfully, tapping her chin.

Jim reached down, capturing her hand and pulling her close to him as soon as they were out of sight of the others. "I know what I want," he informed her, his voice husky.

She felt a thrill of excitement as he pressed her against the kitchen cabinet, his arms on either side of her. "And what would that be?" she teased, knowing full well what he was after.

"You," he whispered, and brushed his lips against hers. Several minutes later, Jim reluctantly pulled away, removing his hands from where they had wandered and tugging Trixie's tee shirt back in place.

"Butter," she blurted, still feeling warm and foggy from their kiss.

"Butter?" he questioned.

"You asked what else I wanted," she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and attempting to control her breathing that was still more than a little ragged. "I want butter on my popcorn."

Laughing, Jim lowered his head and pressed one last kiss against her forehead. "Anything you want," he told her, holding her close. "Any way you want it."

Trixie grinned happily, knowing that she already had everything she could possibly want.