The water was warm to the touch. Carol Bridger sat on the edge of the bathtub, testing the water with one hand. She shook the water off, and unbuttoned Jame's overalls and pulled them off, tossing then in the direction of the laundry hamper. She finished undressing Jame and waited for her climb into the tub. They had everyting neccessary for a great bath, shampoo, fancy soap, Jame's collection of animal shaped bath scrubbies, and enough floating tub toys to stock a Toys R Us. Carol sat down on the floor beside the tub, watching Jame as she played. She was soaping Jame when the bathroom door opened.

"Hi," Kristin Westphalen peeked into the small bathrobe. She stepped further in, holding her arm out. "Wool crepe. No hugs until you're dry." Jame grinned, rubbing her shoulder with her soappy octopus. "Okay."

With her soappy hand Jame grabbed Carol's sleeve, leaving a wet handprint on the T-shirt. She felt definitely frumpy next to the professional looking Kristin. It'd been years since Carol had dressed up that much for anything except dinner. She was wearing a T-shirt stained with her day, part of the salad she and Jame had had for lunch, ice cream from their snack, pasta from dinner and a pair of jean shorts.

Carol watched as Kristin folded up Jame's overalls and placed them inside the laundry hamper before sitting on the lid. She leaned back against the wall, looking quite tired.

"Hey," Nathan stuck his head in the open doorway, grinning at the party. "You look dead. Have you eaten?"

"Eaten what?" Kristin asked, neatly folding Jame's shirt.

"Dinner."

"No. I haven't eaten since last night," she admitted. "I'll grab something after Jame's in bed."

"We've got some leftovers," he leaned against the doorjamb. "Carol cooks enough for an army. Fix you a plate?"

She smiled. "Thanks. That would be nice."

"You need anything?" Nathan looked in Carol and Jame's direction.

"Nope. Jame and I were okay before either of you got here, and we'll be fine now."

"Okay." He turned, and motioned Kristin to join him.

"You want her in her pajamas?" Carol asked, as Kristin started to follow Nathan from the bathroom.

"Yes. Thanks Carol," she smiled softly.

Nathan was already in the kitchen, scooping leftovers onto a plate. He stuck the plate into the microwave, smiling at Kristin.

"How'd the budget allocation go?"

She rolled her eyes, leaning back against the counter. "Horrible. Margaret threatened to fake labor simply to leave. I offered to deliver the baby." She sighed. "What a meeting."

"I'm glad I don't have to go through that. People like seaQuest enough to leave us alone."

"That's the problem. Once seaQuest is wet, what are we going to do with the money she's getting right now?"

"Let me build another one."

"I don't think Carol would ever forgive me."

The microwave chripped, and Nathan opened the door. He passed her the warm plate, and she opened the silverware drawer and pulled out a fork. "This is good," Kristin had her mouth full. "No wonder Jame thinks Carol is a better cook."

He laughed. They had taken to keeping things light, and talk had always come easily.

"Momma!" Jame ran into the room, her hair still wet but neatly brushed. She was in her nightgown, with her sneakers on. Kristin sat the plate down on the counter and bent to the little girl's level. It had been almost twelve hours since she'd even seen Jame. "Oh you smell clean," she teased.

"I used Vanilla."

"Vanilla? You bathed in ice cream?" Nathan teased.

"No Dahde. I used soap." Her eyes took a misgivious gleam. "Can I have some ice cream?"

"I dunno," he looked in the direction of Carol and Kristin. "What do you think?"

He watched the knowing look exchanged between the two. "Okay," Carol said. Jame clapped her hands, and bounced over to the table. "You eating?" Nathan asked Carol.

"Sure." She sat down at the table beside Jame, waiting as Kristin followed with her plate. Nathan scooped three bowls of ice cream and followed. They were an unlikely scene, Carol decided, her husband of thirty years, his four year old daughter, and that child's mother.

"This is really good," Kristin told Carol between bites. "Really good."

"Mommy doesn't cook good," Jame added.

"It's getting late. I'd better Jame home and to bed."

Jame, barely able to keep her eyes open behind the half full bowl of ice cream, didn't even protest. Kristin picked her up, drapping her over her shoulder. Nathan followed her to the door as Carol went back for Charles, Jame's stuffed dolphin. Even in her semi-sleep, Jame closed her fingers in the cotton fin.

Carol and Nathan had both followed her out to the car and stood on the smallish sidewalk as she settled Jame into her car seat. She shut the door and walked around to her own side of the car. "Is eight thirty okay for tomorrow morning?"

"That's fine," Carol smiled, "I'll make her breakfast."

She made pancakes. Jame ate three, with butter and syrup, and two glasses of milk. Nathan had already left for work, leaving the two to their daily routine. When Jame was born, they had adopted this routine when Kristin went back to work. It hadn't changed. It worked for them, and everybody was happy, even if only on the surface. Carol didn't like to think about what
Kristin must think sometimes, the occusional thought that she knew must race through her head. "Why couldn't you stay dead. We were about to be so happy and my life was about to be so perfect." She'd seen that look in Kristin's eyes, once. That day Jame had called her mama.

"Where are you putting all of those Mouse?" Carol teased, washing out the skillet. She added a touch of soap and lightly scrubbed the pan. "Is Charles eating some?"

The dolphin lay propped beside Jame, his own fish shaped pancake lying in a puddle of syrup. Charles often ate breakfast with them.

"No," Jame pointed to his plate, and took a bit off the fin. "He ate now."

"Good. We've got a big day ahead of us, the grocery store, the park," Carol trailed off as Jame rapidly consumed Charles's pancake. "He's done."

An hour later they were in the grocery store, Carol pushing Jame and Charles in the cart. She typically did her shopping and whatever shopping Jame told her Kristin needed. Today it was a galon of milk, something Kristin had a terrible tendency to let spoil. Jame ate most of her meals at Carol and Nathan's, so milk was usually only used on weekends and dinner a couple of times a week. Kristin had opted to breast feed when Jame was born, claiming milk was the one thing she never managed to have or keep. Two years later, Carol was in complete belief. She typically gave Krisin her child and a gallon of milk every Friday.

Finishing up the shopping, Carol took Jame home and fixed them both some lunch before they set off for the park. She sat on a bench, watching Jame play on the slide and swings. Another child joined in, and a woman who seemed to be attached to the child smiled at Carol and joined her on the bench.

"Kids seem so accepting," she commented as she sat down on the bench. "I'm Maggie. That's Sally."

"Carol," she smiled looking at the two. They struck up a conversation, watching as the two children established an obsticle course and begin racing along their track. Jame took a spill, and Carol glanced in her direction. She was getting up when she started screaming. It was only a second before Sally was also screaming.

Jame's legs were covered in small black ants, the insects starting to cover her arms and neck. Sally's left leg was partially coated. Fire ants, Carol judged, from the screaming. She lifted Jame away from the mound, attempting to brush the fire ants off. They were starting to bite her face, and Carol was running out of options.

"Where is she," Carol heard Kristin from down the hall. She looked up from the heavily drugged Jame drapped across her lap as the terrified nurse entered the room. Kristin and Nathan were on her heels, concern marring both faces. "Oh my god," Kristin blinked at the bandaged sight. "Mommy's here sweetheart."

She lifted Jame from Carol's lap, holding her tightly against her body. Jame lay her head on her mother's shoulder as Kristin stroked her hair. "It's okay. Mommy's here."

Nathan layed his hand on the silken head. For a second Carol felt out of place, as if she was a voyuer watching a family moment. "The ants bit my eye," Jame mumbled.

"The doctor told us. You've been so very brave."

"I didn't cry too much," Jame raised her head up to glance at Carol. "Well, Carol said she would have cried more."

The comment seemed to make Kristin aware of Carol's presence. She glanced in her direction, adjusting Jame. "Did the doctor leave any medicine or prescriptions?"

"They're in my purse. I-"

"Could I have them? I'm going to take Jame home and try to make her comfortable."

"You don't want to have to drag her with you," Nathan interrupted. "I'll go get the prescriptions."

"Thank you," he got a thin smile.

"I'll see you tomorrow Jame," Carol started.

"I'm not going to work tomorrow," Kristin interrupted.

"Oh. Then I'll see you soon Jame," she kissed her forehead. "Call me if you need anything."

Kristin adjusted Jame on her shoulder. "I can handle my own child."

She left, leaving Carol and Nathan standing in the room. Nathan held out his hand for the prescriptions, which she gave him. He left her then too, and she heard him asking Jame if he could bring her anything special for dinner. Carol meanwhile, went home and made herself dinner.

It was Monday before Kristin dropped Jame off at the house. Carol was fixing breakfast for herself and Nathan when Jame bounced into the kitchen. Kristin was right behind her, carrying a small bag.

"I'm so hungary," she announced. "Mommy can't make good brekfasts," Jame climbed up on the barstool.

"Thank you for that vote of confidence," Kristin countered. "They don't teach you how to make pancakes in medical school."

"They should," Jame grinned as Carol slid a bottle of syrup and two pieces of french toast in her direction. She eagerily poured syrup on the toast and held out her fork in the direction of the two women. Kristin took the fork and cut one piece of toast into small pieces. She hovered the fork over the second piece before stopping. "You do it," she told Carol, offering the plate.

Carol cut the piece of bread up, and gave Jame back her plate.

The gesture was understood. Carol followed Kristin to the door. "Thank you," she said.

"You're her mother too." Kristin looked back at her daughter. "We choose this for us. She makes it work."

"Yeah," was all Carol could say.