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cute in her white cut-off jeans and floral cami, her feet bare, toes painted a sparkly pink.
    “Everything okay?” Kevin chimed in. He was a handsome devil in khaki shorts and a plain white T, his somewhat unruly sandy hair lightened by the summer sun.
    What hung in the air was the unspoken “…
with the baby?”
    I said, “I’m feeling great and the baby is fine,” as I headed for one of the rockers to sit down. “I just wantedto share some news with you two, before it got around town.”
    “What is your Mother spreading
now?”
Tina asked, taking the other rocker.
    Kevin stretched out on the top step, his back against the railing post, head turned toward me.
    “This is one slice of gossip Mother isn’t likely to serve up,” I said.
    “Nothing terrible, I hope,” Tina said.
    I took a moment to settle into the rocker. “Kind of hard to qualify it, actually. Really … pretty bad, I guess.”
    Tina’s smiled faded as she sat forward. “What is it, honey?”
    Suddenly I had a crushing sensation in my chest and couldn’t breathe.
    I started making horrible, gasping sounds, and Kevin jumped up and grabbed me as I fell onto my knees, fighting for air.
    “Call 911!” he shouted to Tina.
    But a self-composed Tina said, “No. This isn’t the baby. Brandy’s having a panic attack—she’s had them before. I know what to do.”
    My friend knelt beside me, one arm around my shoulders, and as I continued to gasp, she commanded, “Breathe slower … not so fast … that’s right … slower still … now deeper.” Then, soothingly, “You’re not going to die, sweetie … you’ll be all right … nothing’s going to happen.”
    As quickly as the attack came, it went, leaving me exhausted.
    And frightened.
    Would it happen again? And what if I was alone? Who would talk me down from the ledge? And what if I was behind the wheel of my car?
    Tina helped me back into the rocker while Kevin hurried off to fetch some water.
    “I’m all right,” I managed.
    Tina held out her arms and smiled goofily. “Will you look at my hands—I’m
shaking!”
    “Me, too.”
    We both started to laugh. Our laughter was relieved and had just the tiniest hint of hysteria.
    Frowning, Kevin returned with a glass of water. “I didn’t realize it was funny,” he said with a tentative smile, handing me the drink. He looked a little shook up himself.
    I took a sip, then said, “Haven’t had one of
those
for a long time. The Prozac must have kept ‘em at bay.”
    Tina settled at my feet, crossing her legs, Indian-style. “Maybe you should go back on the Prozac,” she suggested gently.
    I shook my head. “I don’t want anything to hurt your baby.”
    Kevin, having settled back on the porch step, said softly, “Maybe it would be
best
for the baby….”
    I waved a dismissive hand. “I had a panic attack because of this damn hot weather.”
    They were both looking at me suspiciously.
    “And, well … there could be
another
reason. I suppose it could be because of what I came here to tell you.”
    Tina and Kevin waited patiently, their eyes clouded with concern, while I collected my thoughts.
    “About nine months ago,” I began, “I received an anonymous letter in the mail….”
    I went over the poison-pen soap opera of the past six months, including the content of the letters right down to my parentage, and ending with that morning’s episode—Mother’s scuffle with Connie in the clock shop.
    My friends looked stunned.
    Teen said, “I can hardly believe it! All this time, and Peggy Sue never
told
you?”
    “And what about
Senator Clark?”
Kevin put in, spittingthe name out like it was something foul. “You can’t tell me he didn’t know—and here I
voted
for that bum!”
    I let them go on for a while, watching their shock turn to indignation and then came the inevitable hurt from Tina.
    “Brandy,” my best friend asked plaintively, “why didn’t you tell me sooner? Why didn’t you trust me with this? You must