Jilly was heading home. Or at least what used to be home. She had no contact with her old friends anymore. When she left Pilot's Knob, she wrote to Lisa and Susie for a while. However, Lisa moved away to college after graduation and now lived across the country. She had quit writing to Susie not long after having Drew. She had never told either girl about being pregnant or giving birth to her son. Jilly had other friends in Pilot's Knob but most of them had been in her church. After she had found out about her pregnancy, she had purposely not kept in touch with them. She just couldn't bear the embarrassment.

Though she had a stiff upper lip, she was not one to go looking for trouble.

"What am I thinking?" she simmered, running her hands through her naturally curly, light brown hair. Jilly had never planned to return to Pilot's Knob. When she left with her mother six years ago, she had turned her back on the place that held the best and the worst memories of her first eighteen years of life.

She glanced through the rearview mirror at her son Drew in the back seat.

What a blessing, she thought to herself as she drove down the two-lane road.

Six years ago, she would never have dreamed that she was sitting here wondering what she'd do without this child. Her only regret was the circumstances of his conception and his father's denial of his existence. The night before Mark left, he had proclaimed his love for her. She had never heard from him again.

As she drove the scenic route, which she preferred over the interstate, Jilly was awash with memories long buried. Her first day of school. Riding on her father's shoulders during the Fourth of July parade. Rocking in the white wicker swing on her grandmother's deep front porch. Her first date with Mark.

"I hope the Tigers win," Mark said casually, opening the door of his small pickup truck for his football homecoming date.

"Me, too." Suddenly, conversation with her lifelong friend seemed uncomfortable. Her senses were heightened. The crisp air, smell of burning leaves, and brilliance of the harvest moon enveloped her.

Mark closed her door and climbed in the truck. As the door shut and she found herself in the close confines of the truck with him, her perceptions of the autumn twilight vanished. She was aware only of him.

Strangely enough, the town had changed very little since Jilly had left. The convenience store had been sold to 7-11 and teemed with activity. The old drive-in theater was still advertising a double feature for Friday and the bank gave the temperature as a sweltering 95 degrees in the hot Kentucky shade.

She turned off of Main Street onto Sumpter and found herself eager to see her grandmother's old Victorian again. She had spent as much of her childhood at this beloved gingerbread house as in her own. She had lived in a modern ranch a couple of blocks over during her father's stint as bank president. However, her grandmother's house was the one that had held her heart. The enormous oak that had held her swing still stood in the front yard. She felt herself expel a breath as a rush of nostalgia hit her full force.

As she turned to tell Drew all about her childhood here, she noticed that he was asleep against the back door. His head had slipped off the travel pillow and rested at an odd angle. She parked the car, got out, and walked around, gingerly opening the door as to not wake him. Her eyes misted as she realized, not for the first time, that he soon would be too big to pack around in her arms.

Wow, this is like stepping back in time, she thought as she found the old hammock tied around two maples by the side porch and lowered herself and Drew onto it. She remembered her younger years and the many summer afternoons spent reading in this very hammock.

Hmm, she thought, this feels good, as she made contact with the rough weave. The huge maples offered ample shade and a slight breeze blew. It should have been too hot to enjoy, but a gentle breeze, the deep shade, and the sweet scent of honeysuckle issued a hypnotic effect.

I could stay here all day, she thought as she yawned, just like old times. Before she knew it, she was asleep, with a limp Drew sprawled on top of her.

In her dream, Jilly was ten years old, gangly and a perpetual tomboy, getting ready to make a dive on the Slip-n-Slide.

"It's my turn!" she cried to Mark, Susie, and the Anderson twins who were in town visiting their grandmother. Jilly backed up several steps then sprinted toward the slippery chute. As she approached the vinyl alley, she raised both arms into the air, executing a hair-raising dive. She slid into the spray of water, whooping for the others to follow.

"Ready or not!" yelled Mark, diving onto the vinyl himself. As he slid toward Jilly, she tried to get up, only to fall down again. By this time, Susie followed, then the twins.

"Looks like it's time for lemonade," called Grandma Violet, smiling at the sight of the kids in her yard. "You better come and get it before I come down there and join you!" she teased, laughing at the motley crew running toward her porch and the never-empty pitcher of fresh-squeezed lemonade.

"Mom!" Drew shook her and placed his hands on either side of her face, drawing her out of her slumber."Mom, wake up!"

"Okay, okay, I must have drifted off..."

Her mouth closed a second after her eyes opened.

It couldn't be happening, it couldn't be real. But she knew it was. She knew it was him.

Willing the image away, she reopened her eyes. Staring right at her was a handsome, strong-featured man. It was the same man that had wooed her and broken her heart years before--Mark Browning. The same eyes that now were part of her beloved child's features. The man staring at her seemed larger than life. His face was more chiseled than she remembered, his shoulders broader, but there was no mistaking the one that had been the only love of her life.

"Jilly? Is it really you?" Incredulity tinted his voice. He stared at her as anxiously as she was staring at him. He looked good. His dark wavy hair was a little too long and slightly waving in the breeze. The golden eyes she had fallen in love with so long ago still shimmered in the sunlight. His build had changed from that of a gangly boy to a well-developed man. Even though she was lying down, she could tell that her knees had gone as weak as those of a schoolgirl's.

He offered her a hand which she ignored as she rose awkwardly from the hammock. Dear God, this can't be happening. What am I going to do now?