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Minnesota. Her family had spent its summers there. “It will be like having a second childhood,” she had said. “Only this one will last a lifetime.”
    “Jenny was the true believer,” Mrs. Flynn once remarked to her daughter. “It often seemed that only her strength, or maybe her passion, kept us going. I think she’s probably the only one who still wishes we were together.”
    Jenny taught school with the same passion she had used to motivate the commune. She taught biology, botany, and environmental science, sponsored three extracurricular groups, and had twice been named Grand River High School’s Teacher of the Year.
    Beamer left Rae Ramone in the gym while she showered and changed. I may be about to bare my soul to her, she thought, but not my body. She retrieved the reporter and silently led her through the school to Jenny’s room. It was Jenny’s free period, and Beamer knew she usually stayed in her classroom.
    The door was open and Jenny was alone, reading at her desk. Beamer paused a moment to watch her friend. Jenny sensed her presence and looked up. “Hey, Bea, bored with study hall again?” she said. “Come in.” She rose and walked to the door. “I know you,” she said to Rae. “You were one of the reporters at the store yesterday.”
    Beamer introduced them. “Actually,” she said, “I came to tell you we broke one of your headlights during softball.”
    “And you brought the press along? That’s not news.”
    “Well, there is something else.” Beamer explained everything. “Rae wants my story, but I could use you. For dates and other facts.”
    Jenny returned to her desk and sipped from a coffee mug, then she turned to Rae. “The first thing you should know is how special Beamer is to all of us. We would all die for her. Or do worse.” She gestured toward the vacant desks. “Okay, let’s talk.”
    They talked for nearly an hour. Rae twice tried to direct the conversation toward the bombing, but Jenny and Beamer were resolute and spoke only of the past. When the bell signaled the end of the period, Rae turned off her tape recorder and slapped shut her notebook. She stood and put on her coat. “Thank you both. It’s even better than I imagined. Look for the story in this Sunday’s paper.” She turned to leave, then paused by the door. “You people really believed in something, didn’t you?” They didn’t respond.
    *
    Beamer spent the rest of the week berating herself for talking to Rae. She dreaded reading the article and refused to discuss the interview with anyone. Though the article hung like a dark cloud over her life that week, however, it was better than thinking about Sandra and Daryl and the bombing. The public’s interest in the incident had subsided, but Beamer and her family were still preoccupied with it. On Wednesday Sandra appeared in court and was charged with manslaughter. After posting her bond, she returned to the bait shop with Daryl and Mr. Flynn. They stayed long enough to pack and collect the little girls, and then they left for Minneapolis for further consultation with lawyers.
    On Saturday morning Mrs. Flynn came to her daughter’s bedroom door three times, trying to rouse her out of bed. “Get downstairs and open up the store,” she urged angrily the third time. “The new clerk is starting today, and with your father gone I need you. I’m taking Johnny to hockey practice. I’ll be back by noon.”
    Beamer rolled out of bed. She rose, caught sight of herself in the mirror, and groaned. She walked to her dresser, then turned away and picked up the sweater and jeans she had worn the previous day from the floor. “No problem, Mom,” she said to the walls. “I’ll make sure those coffee-soaked old men get their bait and doughnuts. The family business is safe in my hands.” As she bent to pull on her jeans, she spotted Andy’s picture propped against a stack of books on her desk. Beamer smiled. “Today I’ll peddle those worms if I have to,