Carson and Andrea get home first. When they pull up in Carson's pickup, I see they've both got worried expressions on their faces. They're trying to be casual about things though when they get out, greeting me on the porch. “Hey, 'Lissa. How was your work this morning?”

“I think Ascension is finished, you can call the movers,” I tell Carson, trying to be brave. It's hard though, and my heart is galloping in my chest. It's been racing nonstop since Nathan told me about Peter, even though Nathan's done everything he could to try and reassure me. We sat down to have tea together, and he even held me close and whispered in my ear that everything would be okay. He doesn't touch me often, he’s always in control of his emotions, but he did today. “Think they can pick it up soon?”

“Depending on Katrina's news, I can have them out here this evening,” Carson says, turning his head to look at the barn. “We've got some news of our own.”

“Really?” I ask, curious. “What happened in town?”

“Come in, let's get Nathan too, he should hear this,” Andrea says, and I see that her smile is genuine, although she's still worried about something. “Where is he?”

“I'm here,” Nathan says behind us, his voice deep and reassuring. Some of the rest of my family says his voice is rough or gravelly, but to me he just sounds grounded and calm. Like he's not going to let himself be taken advantage of by the chaos surrounding him. Even the few times he's had to raise his voice, it's always a calm yell. “I'm glad you came back so quickly.”

“We were just wrapping up our appointment when you called,” Carson explains, taking Andrea's hand. “I'm sorry guys, we kind of told you a bit of a lie this morning.”

“Why? What did you say?” I ask, my curiosity temporarily winning out over my anxiety.

“Well, we said we were going into MCS, and we did, but only for a half hour,” Andrea says, a smile coming to her face. “The rest of the time, we went by the clinic.”

“Why?” I ask again, wishing they'd just cut to the chase. I hate this, I can feel my anxiety coming back, and my chest is starting to hurt “Guys?”

“I'm sorry, 'Lissa, I'm not trying to drag it out for you,” Andrea says. “It's just that a few days ago, I started feeling weird. And well...”

“You're pregnant,” Nathan says, and I stop, realizing what Andrea's been saying.

“You... Andrea, you're pregnant?” I ask in wonder. “Like, really?”

“Really pregnant,” Andrea says, smiling. “I know this seems to be a bad time, but we wanted to tell you two before Katrina and Jackson get here. 'Lissa, I know it's a shock, but we were hoping... well, we're hoping you might be willing to help us out?”

“How can I help?” I ask, still in total wonder. I smile, joy coming in to replace my fear at least for a while. “I mean, what can I do to help you guys?”

“We need a godmother, first of all,” Carson says, “and second of all, we were hoping once we find out if we're having a boy or a girl, you could help put an artist's touch on the name. Think you can lend us a hand?”

I blink and nod, only to be jostled out of my paralysis when Andrea and Carson come around and make what they call a 'Lissa Sandwich. It's the warmest, most reassuring position in my entire life, and it helps. When I open my eyes I see Nathan watching us, and I swear that maybe part of him wants to be a part of it, until Andrea moves to hug him, patting him on the back. “And you... we need you now more than ever.”

“I will see what I can do,” Nathan says softly, looking down on Andrea in wonder. “I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you, Nathan,” Andrea says.

Carson leans down and whispers in my ear. “We need you just as much, 'Lissa. If our baby is going to be anything like us, we're going to need at least three parents. Think you can be strong enough?”

“I'll try,” I promise him, our conversation cut short when we hear the honk of a horn as Jackson, Katrina and Baby Andrea arrive. “Let's go tell them the happy news.”

“Then the hard part begins,” Carson reminds me, “but we'll be here for you.”

* * *

After the joyful breaking of Andrea's good news, we sit down at the kitchen table. BA sits on her blanket in the middle of the kitchen, everything carefully moved out of her reach as she's started crawling, and can pull herself up to a standing position. She seems content though with her teddy bear and a floppy thing that I realize is actually a book that's made out of cloth. Right now, she's chewing on the letter E and the elephant printed on the cloth, turning it a darker shade of white than it was before.

“So how did you learn about the threat?” Nathan asks. We know the basics, Peter's coming after us again. Now it's time to find out the details, and Katrina works best when she can start at the beginning and tell the story at her own pace.

“I've been using my digital connections as well as Darcy to learn what I could without having to go to New Orleans itself,” Katrina says, sipping at the green tea that Nathan made for everyone. “I was also able to hack some of Peter's financial connections, things like that.”

“And what did you learn?” Carson asks. He's already typed out a message to the movers, they'll be picking up Ascension in a few hours. With that taken care of, he's focused on our family, his face calm.

In fact, looking around the table, I feel like everyone is calm other than me. After the initial excitement of hearing about Andrea's pregnancy, my anxiety is worse than ever. What if Peter comes after us when Andrea's having problems? What if she has a miscarriage because of the stress of all this? What if...

Katrina's voice interrupts my frenzied thoughts as she answers Carson. “For most of the past few months, Peter's been relatively quiet. Until about three weeks ago, when he called on financial markers he has left, scraping together about two and a half million dollars. I couldn't find out what it was for at the time, so I had a couple of friends put tracers on it.”

“Nothing came around until today,” Jackson says, spurring the story along. He knows his wife, and knows that if we let her, Katrina will bore us all except Andrea to death with her detailed descriptions about how her tech wizardry works. “Then we got a message.”

“What was it?” I ask, trying with all my might to at least be somewhat helpful. I know my family tries to take care of me, but it hurts to feel like any time something related to Peter comes up I'm left with nothing more than watching Baby Andrea. I know I have my challenges, but I have to overcome them. I need to be more than just dead weight.

Katrina takes a deep breath and looks around. “My parents are dead.”

I'm not the only one who gasps, as Andrea looks like she's about to drop her teacup before she sets it down carefully. “What happened?”

“Heavy-caliber rifle shots taken at a long distance. My mother had been released from federal custody a month ago as part of the deal to testify against Peter, while my father was transferred to protective custody and transferred. She was visiting him in prison, a minimum security place in Arkansas that allows conjugal visits,” Katrina says, her voice calm. “They were walking toward the trailer that the prison has for the visits when they were hit by two shots, both in the chest.”

“Jesus,” Carson whispers, and my breath is nearly whistling in my lungs. I can't focus, I can barely breathe. I'm paralyzed, unable to do anything but sit there and listen as Katrina continues.

“The prison investigators found the weapon six hundred yards away, a German G22 sniper rifle,” Katrina adds, taking another sip of tea. “Along with a note that simply said one & two. It was printed, no fingerprints or other marks so far.”

“But the note obviously means that whoever killed them isn't finished,” Jackson adds. “And we got another whisper, a friend of Katrina's in that area who'd been keeping an eye on the Grammercys. Apparently there was a new woman seen in town around the same time as the killings, one who's disappeared in the twenty-four hours since then. The cops don't suspect anything, but there was a name associated that has our computer network going overtime.”

“What?” Nathan asks.

“A female assassin, Isis Bardot,” Katrina says, and I'm shocked at Nathan's reaction. His fingers go limp and his teacup falls from his fingers to bounce off the table, tea splattering all over his shirt as his eyes go wide.

“Isis Bardot?” he whispers, his fingers starting to tremble. Tea runs over the tablecloth to drip into his lap, but I don't think he even notices. His face is as pale as a ghost. “Oh no.”

“You know her?” Andrea asks. Katrina just calmly told us a sniper took out her parents, and her eyes are perceptive, looking around and gathering every bit of information... while I sit, unable to even offer comfort to Nathan, who's obviously in shock or distressed. How useless am I?

“She’s… she’s bad news,” Nathan says, his voice still shaky. He notices that his pants are getting wet, and takes the napkin that Jackson offers and starts wiping himself up. “Katrina, are your sources sure that it was Isis?”

“That was the name she used. They said she's about forty, maybe forty-five, sort of Arabic in appearance but maybe mixed. She spoke with a French-tinged accent, and stuck out around town because of her tastes in cars and clothing,” Katrina says, folding her hands. “Sound familiar?”

“Yeah,” Nathan says in a hollow voice. His eyes are still haunted, and for the first time I think I see a hint of fear in his eyes. Who is this woman, that she could strike so much fear into Nathan's heart?

“You do know her,” Carson says, his eyes narrowing. “What, have you worked together?”

“I... I know her,” Nathan says, standing up. “Please, I need some time to think about this. I can’t give you a good answer until I do without sounding like a rambling madman. Katrina, you said your parents were shot. When?”

“Yesterday,” Katrina says, finishing her tea. “We contacted you as soon as my people got a hold of me.”

Nathan nods gratefully, and takes another deep breath. “Okay. Then she won't be in New Orleans right away, knowing her style. Still, it would be safer if we all stayed here for the night. Carson, I know you contacted the movers for Melissa's sculpture, it should be safe to have them come on the property and retrieve it. Still, I would appreciate it if you and Katrina acted as armed security, maybe Jackson helping for a little bit. In the meantime... I need to go think.”

Without listening to anything else Nathan leaves the kitchen, going out into the dooryard and toward the barn. I'm still frozen with anxiety and panic when Carson notices my discomfort. “'Lissa?”

“I... I... I...” I try to reply, trying to force out that I'm fine and everyone should focus on everything but me. Focus on Baby Andrea, focus on trying to talk to Nathan, focus on getting Ascension ready for shipping. Just don't focus on me. Don't focus on the broken woman who's sitting here trying her best to not pee her panties she's so scared. I try, but I can't.

Andrea notices though, and jerks her head toward the door. “Jackson, will you and Carson start getting the sculpture ready? You're going to have to get the barn opened up all the way for them to get that thing out. Katrina, I think BA looks ready for a nap in the living room, don't you? You can get her down before the movers get here I'm sure.”

Everyone nods and clears out, until it's just me and Andrea. She gets out of her chair and comes over to stand next to me. “Give me your hand, 'Lissa,” she says, reaching out. “Let's go have some sister time.”

“I'm sorry,” I whisper, trying not to cry. “I'm sorry, Andrea. I tried to be strong.”

“I know you did,” Andrea says quietly. “And you did a good job. But come on, enough of that, I have something special I want to show you.”

I nod, taking Andrea's hand and following her as we go to the living room. Katrina is already there with BA, who's happily nursing and starting to drift into a nap.

We go upstairs, Andrea leading me to my bedroom, where she closes the door behind us. “Go ahead, lie down on the bed.”

“What is it, Andrea?” I ask. “I don't need a nap, I'm not tired at all, and I couldn't sleep anyway after that.”

“No, you're right,” Andrea says, coming over and sitting down, taking my right hand and stroking a spot on my palm near my thumb. “But what you do need is a way to help your body deal with the anxiety. I've been thinking about it for a while, and I think there's no time like the present.”

I realize that whatever Andrea's doing, it feels good, pleasurable and calming. “Is that what you're doing now?”

“I'm trying. I discussed it with Katrina during Christmas, and I wanted to teach you something you can use on yourself to help with the anxiety. So I thought I'd show you some acupressure you could do on yourself to help relieve anxiety. Because you're my sister, and I love you.”