Sophie drove past the houses in her subdivision and let the sights and smells of a late Sunday afternoon soothe her bruised ego. Finding relief in the pungent aroma of fresh, cut grass, she watched children playing ball and riding their bicycles down the sidewalks. Yes, the world was back to normal.

Wearily pulling into the driveway of her home, she sat for a minute, leaning her head back against the headrest. When she rolled her head to the side, she noted, with only mild interest, the FOR RENT sign prominently displayed in the yard next door for the past month, had been removed.

Looking back at her quaint, little, white frame house with its forest green shutters, she frowned. The trash bin next to the garage door was overflowing, which meant she had company. She steeled herself before getting out of her car and walking toward the front door. Hearing a mewling sound, she dropped her duffle bag and sprinted. As she neared the door, she saw Cujo, her yellow and white, short-haired tabby, suspended on the inside of the screen door, his claws clinging fiercely to the mesh. The wooden door behind him was shut, and he had a desperate expression on his precious feline face.

“Poor baby! What has that mean ol’ brother of mine done to you?” she cooed as she opened the screen door and pried Cujo’s claws loose, one at a time, to release him. Finally, freed from the mesh, the cat bolted for the shelter of the trees in the back yard, leaving a haze of feathery fluff drifting in Sophie’s face.

“Bryce!”

After retrieving her bag, Sophie marched through the foyer, waving cat hair out of her eyes. She ground to a halt and winced as she glanced around the living room. Every table surface was covered with dirty dishes. The floor was littered with dirty socks, shirts and other miscellaneous items of clothing. The room reeked of stale beer and pizza.

Her half-brother popped his head over the refrigerator door. “Oh, hi, Sophie. How was your weekend?”

“Don’t you ‘Oh, hi, Sophie’ me. Just what do you think you were doing to my poor cat?”

Sophie fists were balled on her hips, her feet planted slightly apart, ready for battle.

Bryce rounded the corner of the kitchen bar his expression incredulous. “Poor cat? That socially sadistic, mangy excuse for a pet puked hairballs all over my term paper. And he knew darn well what he was doing. Besides, he wasn’t strung up on the door long. I was just trying to teach him a lesson,” he ended lamely.

“Still, that was a cruel trick to play on Cujo.” Sophie abandoned her militant stance, and her voice softened. “Homeless again? What’s the excuse this time?”

“Joe kicked me out. He accused me of being a slob. Can you believe that?” Bryce’s eyes were wide and innocent.

“I sympathize with Joe. Look at this place.” Sophie swung her arm wide, encompassing the mess. “It was spotless on Friday.”

Sophie couldn’t stay mad at Bryce for long. He was her only sibling—well, half-sibling, anyway—and they loved each other fiercely, but they were as different as two people could be. His shortcomings in the domestic cleaning department only emphasized their differences. In comparison to her half-brother, Sophie had it all together.

“Oh, by the way, Dad called. He wants you to call him back.”

“After the weekend I just experienced, all I need is another self-righteous man pointing out all my faults.”

Sophie dropped her bag beside the kitchen counter, snatched a pillow from the floor and slapped it into place on the couch next to Bryce, causing him to flinch.

“Gee, Sis. Don’t take it out on me. I’m just the messenger.”

“I’m sick and tired of the men in my life—present company excluded, of course—telling me what to do and always finding me lacking.”

“Men? I thought Dad was the only one who constantly badgered you. Who else has been picking on you, Sis? Want me to beat him up?”

Sophie plopped down on the cushion beside him, leaned back her head and closed her eyes. “We have a new company commander in my unit, and he thinks he’s Patton, or Hitler, or something. From the moment he first saw me, he took an instant dislike and has made it his mission in life to make my job hell.”

“Poor baby. Sounds like you had a rough weekend,” Bryce said, his voice oozing sympathy.

Brushing away his comment, Sophie continued, “What’s worse is, during the whole weekend, it was as if I had two left feet and an extra foot stuck in my mouth. The man just ties me in knots.”

“Well, you have a whole month to get a grip. And you may as well call Dad and get it over with.”

“Yeah, what’s a little more humiliation going to hurt?” Sophie reached for her cell phone, jabbed the numbered keys, then listened as the phone rang, hoping voice mail answered instead of a human.

“Hamilton, speaking,” her stepfather’s raspy voice said, dashing her hopes.

She always felt as if she should snap to attention whenever he barked his greeting. But, gruff as his demeanor was, he was the only father she’d ever known. Her biological father had left her mother as soon as he’d discovered she was pregnant.

“Hi, Dad. Bryce said you called. What’s up?”

“I just wanted a report on your weekend. You said you were going to train in the field. How’d it go?”

“Fine, Dad. It went fine. Is that all you wanted?”

“How much longer do you have on your commitment to the Guard?”

“One month less than the last time you asked. Do we have to go into this again?”

“Go into what?”

“The same old argument about me being in the Guard. I signed a paper saying I would give the National Guard four years. It’s been three years, six months and ten days. I plan on completing my commitment and, maybe, signing on for more.”

“Now, Sophie, don’t go smart-mouthing me. I’m still your father, even if you do live on your own. I’m only concerned about you being a lone female among such a rough group of men.”

“Dad, it’s not as if I’m a fashion model in my camouflage uniform and military glasses. Other than my new company commander, they all see me as one of the guys.”

“Ha. And what does your new company commander think?”

“The same as you, Dad.” Sophie sighed. “He thinks I’m hopelessly inept, and I don’t belong in ‘This man’s army’.”

“Sophie, I never said that. I just don’t think it’s a safe environment for women.”

“And it’s safe for men?”

“You don’t understand...”

“No, you don’t understand. I like the Guard, and I plan to stick with it.”

“You need to get married and settle down.”

Sophie rolled her eyes at the phone instead of commenting. It was the same old argument.

“When was the last time you had a date?” her stepfather asked.

“It’s none of your business, but as a matter of fact, I have one next Friday.” Take those apples, Dad!

“Well, try to look feminine or something. You don’t want to scare him off.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” she said, her tone dry. “Say hi to Mom for me, will you? I gotta go, now.”

“Sophie, call and let me know how that date goes,” he barked.

“I’m sure it’ll be such a success, I won’t have to call. You’ll read about it in the newspaper. Bye, Dad.”

---

That Friday

“So, what do you think?” Sophie spun in a circle letting the material swirl around her legs. She wore a long, tiered broomstick skirt with every shade of the rainbow splashed in broad strokes across the fabric. The skirt was topped with a simple, red tank top. She’d decided to leave her long hair loose and hanging in curling disarray.

Sophie chose the outfit as a spirit booster. Dreading this date for the last two weeks, she wondered if she was going out with Gordon to please herself or her stepfather. Whichever was the case, she planned on this being a success.

Bryce dropped his pizza into the open box and rose from the couch. Placing his hand under the opposite elbow and cupping the side of his face with his other hand, he considered her. “Geez, Sis, you look like a reject from the Woodstock concert or an accident in a paint plant.”

Sophie stopped in mid-twirl, her shoulders drooping. “You don’t like it? I thought it was festive and cheerful.”

Bryce quickly backtracked and started again. “Well, it is bright...and...interesting. Yeah, interesting is the word I would use.” Bryce winked. “Just givin’ you a hard time.” He grinned and gave her a hug. “So, what’s the occasion?”

“I have a date.”

“My sister, the fair ice-maiden, has a date?”

Wincing as the innocent comment struck too close to home, Sophie was reminded of her stepfather’s conversation the previous weekend. “I’m not an ice-maiden, I just haven’t gotten a decent offer in the last six months is all.”

“So, who’s the lucky guy?”

“Gordon Shelby,” Sophie answered flicking an imaginary piece of fluff off her red tank.

“Gordon Shelby?” Bryce asked, with a look of disbelief. “The tubby furniture salesman? I didn’t think you liked him.”

“Well, he grows on you, and he’s not tubby—he’s portly. And besides, he owns the furniture store.”

“Getting desperate, Sis, or did Dad put the screws to you?”

“No, I’m not desperate, and my date has nothing to do with Dad. Gordon is a nice man. He doesn’t talk down to me, and he respects me. And...he doesn’t disapprove of my affiliation with the Guard,” Sophie said, realizing her reasons were pretty lame. She wasn’t all that surprised when Bryce rolled his eyes.

“Oh, those sound like all the right reasons to go out with a man. But hey, whatever makes you happy. Have a great time, Sis. Knock him dead,” he said, chucking her under the chin.

Settling himself on the couch, Bryce picked up a piece of pizza from the box on the coffee table and proceeded to inhale it in only three bites.

“Bryce, you’re not going to be here later, are you?”

“Sure, why not?”

Sophie blushed. “I may want to bring Gordon back here after dinner, and I’d like to have a little privacy.”

Eyebrows drawing together, Bryce looked at her in confusion. Suddenly, his face brightened into a wide grin. “Oh, I get it, you’re hoping to get lucky.”

Sophie shook her head. “Bryce, you have such a teenaged mind. I just want to get to know him a little better, nothing more,” she said emphatically.

Just as quickly, his brow wrinkled into another frown, and his smile disappeared. “You’re not really going to bring him here, are you?”

“Why, yes, of course. Why shouldn’t I? I am, after all, a grown woman.”

“Oh, don’t get your bra in a knot, that’s not why I asked. What about you-know-who?” Bryce asked, tipping his head to the right in a jerking motion.

“Who-who? What are you talking about?”

“You know...the C.A.T.” Bryce spelled, pointing toward Cujo, who was sitting on the arm of the lounge chair, calmly licking his fur.

“Cujo? Why should he stop me from bringing Gordon home? Cujo’s part of my family. I expect any man I have a relationship with to accept my cat. You know: love me, love my cat.”

Just then, the doorbell rang. Sophie slung the strap of her purse over her shoulder and headed into the foyer. She shot Bryce a backward glance as she left. “See you tomorrow, Bryce,” she said, pointedly.

“Yeah, have a ball, Sis,” he yelled. Then muttering, just loud enough for Sophie to hear, “More like a hair-ball.”