Clydie was working on her bedroom walls when she heard the doorbell ring. It was only eight a.m., but she knew it was Matt and his father, showing up to get started on their day. A feeling of dread washed through her and she found herself hoping that Matt would simply avoid her. After what had happened the night before, she'd expect that he'd never want to set eyes on her again.

However, she did receive something of a surprise when she heard the heavy footsteps coming down the hallway and then the firm knock at her door. For a moment, she thought about telling him to go away. But, then she just as quickly sighed and gave in. He was going to be working in her house for a while. She would have to face him at some point, so she might as well get it over with. Putting it off would only make it even more painfully awkward.

"Come in!" she called out, keeping her gaze on the stained wallpaper so she wouldn't have to look at Matt.

She heard the door creak open and then footsteps striding briskly across the room. And then hands were gripping her shoulders, spinning her around so that she gasped...and she found herself face to face with a very worried looking Matt Tanner.

"Clydie, what the hell happened last night? Are you okay?" he demanded, getting straight to the point, his bright gaze raking over her, pausing briefly on the angry red mark running down her arm.

Clydie stood there, staring mutely up at him because she had no earthly idea what she was supposed to say to Matt Tanner. He'd seen with his own eyes her sickness, so she couldn't fob him off or deny any of it. And beyond that, anything she might say to him would probably wind up getting told all over town and that was the very last thing she and her parents needed.

"It was nothing. Its...I'm fine. Really," she told him, trying to sound as business-like and convincing as she could.

"You're...you're fine? Clydie, you are not fine! Last night you were—"

"Matt, it was nothing. Really." There was no rational way to explain, so why bother trying? "You don't need to worry about it. And you don't have to help me in here. I can do this by myself."

"Clydie, you don't have to do that," Matt said, tightening his grip on her shoulders so she couldn't turn away from him.

"Do what?" she asked stiffly, dropping her gaze to the floor.

"That. Shut down. You don't have to...to be ashamed," Matt assured, his voice softening. "You can tell me what's going on. I'll listen to you. And I won't judge you."

Of course, he would judge her. She judged herself! "Look, you don't need to get involved in my—"

"I want to get involved, though. I might be able to help, Clydie. My sister, she used to have spells where she'd wig out, but it was just the pills—"

"Matt, my problem is not drugs," she cut in before he could finish. She did not need to be accused of having a drug problem.

"I'm not saying its drugs. But, there clearly is a problem of some sort. And I want to help. I've been through a lot more than you think, so I can take it," stated Matt, his words firm and filled with conviction.

Irritation wafted through her belly and she tried to pull away from the young man, but he refused to let go of her. "Matt, please, just forget this and go back to your own life—"

"Not gonna happen. I'm here now and I'm going to help you," Matt responded, bringing her gaze snapping up to his face.

"Why! You met me yesterday! And you have no idea what's wrong with me! You can't possibly understand it!" she snapped at him, wishing the words weren't coming out of her mouth sounding so hateful, but she couldn't help it.

"Clydie, I saw you!" Matt snapped right back at her. "I saw you standing there just...frozen! You were terrified of something! I mean, you were...screaming..."

Matt's voice trailed off and something in her stomach clenched. "Wh-what? What is it?"

She had never asked anyone who'd witnessed one of her episodes what they were like because, honestly, she doubted anyone would tell her the truth. But, Matt Tanner would. She knew he would tell her the absolute truth and not withhold anything from her.

"Tell me what you saw, Matt. Please," she urged when he didn't reply. "Please, tell me, because I-I...I don't know. I mean...not from the outside."

Pulling in a breath, Matt gave a nod and released her shoulders. He then took the rag from her hand, dropped it into the bucket of dirty water at her feet, and placed a hand on the small of her back, leading her over to the bed.

"Clydie, last night...you looked like you were seeing a ghost," he said as they both sat down on the rumpled covers. "You just froze. I could see that you were terrified of...something...and then you fell and started screaming..."

Hearing his words set off the tiniest wave of disappointment inside her. There was a part of her that had, just maybe, wanted to hear Matt Tanner say that he'd seen them, too. Or at least...thought that he'd seen...something. Anything. Because, if Matt had seen something, that would mean that she wasn't completely insane.

"Your mom told me your sister's name was Sam," Matt said and she nodded, confused. "Last night, you were screaming at Sam, screaming at her to please stop. To stop and leave you alone."

That revelation did not shock her, considering that Sam had been clawing at her like a rabid animal. And so had Sam's two new companions.

A heavy silence descended upon the room and Clydie felt suspicion zip through her. "What? Matt, what is it?"

Matt glanced down, reaching out to take hold of her wrist and lift her arm upwards, allowing him to inspect the scratch marring the flesh there. "Do you know how you hurt your arm?"

She glanced down at the wound, which was painted with invisible wound adhesive. "I dunno. My dad thinks I must have scratched myself on my house key or something."

"I was watching you the entire time, Clydie. I never took my eyes off you," said Matt, shaking his head. "You unlocked the door, you turned around toward me...and you froze. You stood there for a few minutes...looking so terrified, so I jumped out of the truck. I was on the steps when you fell backward through the door and started screaming..."

"And?" she pressed, not sure whether or not she wanted to hear whatever he was trying to tell her.

"The only time your hands moved was after you fell. You covered your ears, but that was it," Matt said in a serious tone.

"Okay. So, what are you trying to tell me? Spit it out," she insisted, wanting to get up and move away from him, but she forced herself to remain there beside him.

"You didn't cut yourself on your keys, because they were still in the lock when you fell. And if you'd hurt yourself in some other way, I would have seen you do it because I was looking right at you."

Her heart was suddenly thumping hard in her chest. "I'm sure you just didn't see—"

"Clydie, I did see," Matt cut in, his brows drawing close together. "And I want you to tell me what you were seeing last night."

She felt herself go stiff. She could not tell him that. Only her parents and her therapists knew about the things she'd seen. And her parents knew very little. She'd refused to go into great detail in front of them because she didn't want them to know...what Sam had become. At least, in her own mind.

"You were seeing your sister, weren't you?" Matt answered for her. "You were seeing her and she was trying to hurt you. She did hurt you."

Clydie pulled her arm free of Matt's grasp and got to her feet, taking a few steps away from him. "I need to get back to work," she said hoarsely.

Matt Tanner might want to speak with a therapist himself, if he really thought that her own hallucination had caused the cut on her arm.

Turning, she hurried back across the room, grabbing the rag from her bucket and slopping it up against the wallpaper. She needed to be trying to get her room clean enough so that she could get a good night's sleep. She didn't have time to be sitting around, listening to someone who was even crazier than she was!

"Clydie, please, don't be mad at me. I'm just trying to understand what's going on—"

"There's nothing to understand. I have PTSD and Survivor's Syndrome. That's all that's going on," she responded easily, as if it was all just that simple.

She heard Matt take a long breath and then let it back out. "Alright. I'm gonna go grab a ladder so we can get these walls finished up."

She nodded, but kept her gaze firmly on the wall in front of her until Matt strode from the room, closing the door behind him. Left alone, Clydie felt her clenched muscles relax and she let out her own breath in a long stream. She thought she could like Matt Tanner. She thought he might make a nice friend and she hadn't had a friend in such a very long time. But, she wasn't so sure she could be friends with someone who's thoughts and opinions on her issues might serve to give credence to those issues.  Would that not only add to her problems?

But, no matter what Matt thought...she knew the truth. And the truth was...she was damaged. And that damage was deepening, sending her spiraling farther downward into her psychosis, which was causing those horrid hallucinations to worsen by several degrees.

That realization terrified her more than anything she'd ever experienced, but she tried her best to shove it...all of it...away from her. There was no changing what was happening. At most, the new therapist that she was supposed to see in a few weeks might prescribe her some new drug that she hadn't tried before. A drug that would likely have side effects that were almost as bad as having to deal with Sam and her new friends. And if that drug didn't work, surely there was some new, experimental pill that she could try. Again...

A sudden wave of near desolation crashed in on her, slumping her shoulders and blurring her gaze with tears. What was the point in dwelling on it? The fact of the matter was, it would only be a matter of time before her mind finally snapped and she lost her grip on reality completely. It might be weeks...perhaps a few months...but, it was going to happen. And then she would be lost forever. Of course, she'd already decided that she wasn't going to put her parents through such an ordeal...

So, since she was facing a death sentence, in one form or another, there was no reason for her to spend what time she had left...not living. She had no reason to hide away from everything when she was going to be taken away from everything sooner or later anyway.

It felt as if she'd been technically dead for the past two years. She'd barely seen anything other than the four walls of her bedroom or a hospital room or her therapist's office. She had given up her friends, her future, her entire life. And for what? The only thing that had been accomplished was...losing two years of her life.

Now that she was staring at a ticking clock, she could see that maybe Sam had the right idea. She might have been difficult, she might have been a bit rash and unthinking, she might have made bad choices—really, really bad choices—but at least she'd lived. She hadn't been afraid of anything. If she thought it, she did it. Samantha Weston hadn't wasted a single minute of her nineteen years.

And it felt as if Clydie Weston had wasted nearly every minute of hers.

Of course, she wasn't Samantha Weston. She was still...she. Countless boyfriends and temper tantrums and life ruiningly bad decisions weren't her thing. But, she couldn't see any good reason why she shouldn't get out there and start living while she was still able. Why not do things she'd never done before? Talk to people she would never think of talking to? Face a few fears she'd never been brave enough to face? Why not shake up her life a little bit, just to see what might happen? At worst, things would stay the same. At best...she might have a few new experiences before...it all came to an end.

A heavy sigh left her and she dunked her rag back into the bucket. Well, she might not do some of those things...or any of those things. But, then again, she might. Either way, it was something to think about.

There was another knock at her bedroom door and Matt stepped through, bringing the step ladder with him. "Let's hit it," he said, offering her a chagrined sort of smile.

Suddenly, Clydie decided to smile back at the handsome young man with the frank blue eyes. One thing she could do was open up and let someone in. Matt Tanner might turn out to be just as delusional as she herself was, but in the very least, he might serve as a sympathetic ear, which could be rather refreshing, considering that everyone else in her life spent their time trying to talk her out of her crazy. A tack that obviously was not working.

Matt sat the ladder up next to her and she held the rag out toward him, which he took before climbing upwards and starting to scrub near the ceiling. "Listen, Clydie, I have to apologize. You're right. I just met you yesterday and I shouldn't be prying into your business."

Clydie's first inclination was to accept the apology and end the conversation. It would have been vastly more comfortable. But, if she was going to do things she'd never done before....

"You don't have to apologize," she replied, feeling her heart pounding a bit harder.

She had no idea how to begin, how to speak the words that would reveal how sick she truly was.

"Yeah, I do. I was being pushy," Matt said on something of a sigh. "Its sort of a disease with me. I guess I just got so used to taking care of my sister and all her problems that I kind of assume everyone needs me to step in and help them."

"That's not a bad thing, is it?" she posed, grabbing a second rag and getting back to work. "Most people probably wouldn't care enough to want to help anybody."

"Compared to most people, I guess I care too hard, then," Matt admitted, grinning down at her.

She grinned back. "Is there such a thing as caring too hard?"

"I dunno. You can let me know the next time I start harassing you to talk about your problems," came the reply.

Again, she felt her heartbeat speeding up. "Do...do you really want to know...what's wrong? With me?" she hedged, turning her attention to the wallpaper.

"You don't have to tell me, Clydie. Really, its none of my—"

"I want to tell you," she broke in before she changed her mind.

Matt was silent for a moment. "You do?  Honestly?"

She pulled in a steadying breath. "I-I usually...well, never...I've never told anyone but my therapists.  But, if you want to know..."

"You've never told your parents?" asked Matt, confused.

She shook her head. "I've only told them...as little as I have to. I don't want to make things any harder on them than they need to be."

"Well, if you want to talk about it, I'm here to listen," came the firm riposte.

Right. He was willing to listen and she...was willing to talk. So...she talked.

*  *  *  *  *  *

She didn't know how she was supposed to feel after purging her deepest secrets to a perfect stranger, but she was fairly certain she wasn't supposed to be feeling quite so...nauseous. For two cents, she would have bent over and thrown up in the cleaning bucket.

"And the therapist told you that all this is happening because you have PTSD? Do you believe that?"

"Wh-why wouldn't I believe that?" she croaked out, eyeing the bucket and seriously considering heaving into it.

"Hey, you okay? You look kind of...green," Matt pointed out.

Was she okay? She had just revealed her mental damage to a person she'd met only the morning before. She'd told him every detail...every single detail. She'd told him things she'd never been willing to utter to her own parents. So, she really couldn't say whether she was okay or not.

"Clydie?" Matt urged, quickly descending the ladder.

"I-I'm okay. Its just...I feel a little sick," she confessed. "I mean...I just told you all about my crazy..."

Matt reached out and put his hands on her shoulders, holding her steady as her legs wobbled beneath her. "Clydie, what you told me stays with me. I won't say a word to anybody, if that's what you're worried about. I swear."

"I-I really don't know what I'm worried about," she told him plainly. Well, other than being worried that she might vomit all over his work boots.

"Well, I think the one thing you really shouldn't be worrying about is whether you're crazy or not," Matt said consolingly.

"I'm not worried about that. I mean, I see the ghost of my dead sister. I'm as loony as a bird," she stated, wishing she wasn't sweating quite so much.

"I'll admit that what's happened to you is...abnormal. But, that doesn't mean you're loony," was Matt's opinion as he turned her around and led her across the room and over to the window.

Undoing the latch, he pushed the panes open, allowing the chill morning air to rush into the room and a shiver coursed through Clydie as it swept across her overly warm, dampened skin.

"Matt, if you don't think I'm as loony as a bird, then maybe you should be seeing a therapist, too. I have a few on speed dial. I can hook you up."

Matt chuckled, leaning against the wall next to the window and crossing his arms over his broad chest. "I know you probably don't want to hear this, but the world is a big place. There are a lot of strange things that go on out there."

That might be true, but she had been diagnosed by several professionals with fancy degrees hanging on their walls. So, she figured her case was fairly cut and dried.

"Would you hate me if I said that maybe what your seeing isn't just in your mind," Matt gingerly posed that notion. "Maybe it actually is your sister—"

"Its not," she said. "Its a visual hallucination."

"But, what if its not?" insisted Matt.

"But, it is," she returned, pulling in a deep breath of the clean, sea scented air.

"Clydie—"

"Matt, I know where you're going with this. And I've already gone through that phase," she explained. "But, this isn't a book or a movie. There are no ghosts. There's no unfinished business. There's no mystery to be solved. There's just...there's none of that."

Matt opened his mouth to argue further, but she held up a hand to stop him.

"My sister was...she was a difficult person. She had an unstable personality. She got pregnant and the father walked off and left her to deal with it. That sent her over the edge and she decided to...end her problems. And I just happened to make the dumb decision to get into the car with her. Sam killed herself. And for whatever reason, I can't let go of her. Its as plain as that."

Matt stared down at her for a drawn out moment, the want to say something more clearly etched onto his features. But, he suddenly clenched his jaw shut and let out a hard breath. "Do you want to keep talking about this?"

"No. Not really." She'd talked enough about it for now. Maybe forever.

"Alright. So, let's talk about something else," Matt suggested.

"Deal," she agreed as Matt pushed away from the wall and headed back toward the ladder.

"There's a bonfire down on the beach tonight. Its not too far from here, actually. We should go," he espoused, grabbing up the bucket and heading toward the bathroom.

The mere thought made her balk. A bonfire on the beach with a bunch of strangers sounded like a really bad idea, given what had just happened to her a few hours before.

"Come on, Clydie! It'll be fun!" Matt cajoled, his voice echoing in the empty bathroom. "I know you're not old enough to drink, but there's usually fresh clams on the fire and a bunch of people to talk to!"

A horde of judgmental strangers vehemently avoiding the weird girl while getting drunk and sucking down slimy, snot-like globs of shellfish? That sounded like the opposite of fun to her. It also sounded like something she would not ordinarily do.

"What time is it?" she heard herself ask.

"It starts about eight and goes until whenever. I can come by here and we can walk down there together!" Matt offered, the sound of the bathtub water running nearly drowning out his voice.

"Well, I guess I can go for a little while," she conceded.

If she wanted to get out there and try something new, this would be the way to do it. And she had gotten through the scarecrow event without making a fool out of herself. Just barely, but still...

A sudden rumbling noise exploded outside her window and she whipped around in that direction, glancing down into the back garden to find Ella and Frank making their way through the overgrown grasses and toward the stand of evergreen trees. A few seconds later, a very large truck appeared, rear end first, backing its way through the yard. And sitting on that long trailer was a large wooden gazebo with a red shingled roof.

Seeing the big, ornate structure sitting on the flatbed brought a smile to her lips. The only thing her dad had insisted on was that the house have a gazebo overlooking the sea. And there it was. Oh boy...there it was. It was actually a bit of an over worked eyesore, in her view, but if it made her dad happy, she'd tell him it was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.

"What's that racket?" Matt wondered, exiting the bathroom and hurrying over to the window.

"My dad's gazebo is here," she responded, turning and making for the bedroom door. "Let's run out and have a look."

Matt set the bucket down with a heavy plop. "Right behind you."

With Matt on her heels, she wended her way down the stairs and through the house, heading straight across the kitchen and out the backdoor. By the time she and Matt were halfway across the yard, the delivery truck had already reached its destination, stopping over in the far corner of the property, right next to the rocky slope and in between two bent and gnarled old trees.

There were a couple of men there, unstrapping the monstrous thing, while her dad stood by, safely out of the way beneath the pine boughs, as he kept a sharp eye on the goings on. However, her mom had suddenly disappeared.

"Clydie! Look at her! Ain't she a beaut!" Frank beamed, gazing up at the gazebo with an expression of supreme satisfaction on his face.

"Its pretty!" she agreed, plastering a wide grin on her face as she hurried over to him, crossing the loamy, soft ground that was scattered with a thick blanket of pine needles. "And its huge!"

"It needs to be huge. Especially if your mom plans on doing weddings here," Frank explained, putting an arm around her and giving her a hard squeeze.

"Is there anything I can do to help, Mr. Weston?" Matt questioned, coming to stand beside them.

"Actually, you can help me make sure these nice men position this beauty in just the right spot. I want it to have a perfect view of the sunrise," said Frank, prompting Clydie to step aside so the two could get to the business of plotting out the perfect location for the gazebo.

With everyone doing something, she glanced around, searching for her mother, wondering why the woman wasn't overseeing the operation. Typically, Ella didn't leave her husband in charge of much for fear of what might happen. Mostly to him.

Sweeping her gaze over the property, she spotted Ella, standing by the side of the house. And she wasn't alone. Someone was standing there with her. And that someone was a tall, handsome man with ruddy colored hair, a rather foreboding presence, and a thick cowboy accent.