Morning after and still having these queasy feelings that I put down to the recent duo of trips through my portal. Not sure about the general unease ... a premonition of evil that lingered like bad melodrama. All that was missing was the tacky sound track.

No phone calls.

It should have been a tranquil Sunday morning.

Reading the newspaper. Working the crosswords. Lingering over the after-effects of making love with Jack. Trying to not be thinking of the others in our strange little family. Refusing to go online and check messages I knew would destroy whatever peace Jack had wrapped me up in.

Jack with me. In all his splendor. Letting me be clingy. Enjoying this person who looked and sounded an awful lot like me but who was rabidly needful of his touch and reassurance. I was still letting Jack have the reins.

And then the doorbell rang.

"Shit!" I sat up straight in the bed, rankled by the oddest sensation of ... "Oh damnation. I hope to God it's not my aunt."

Jack giving me the eye but chuckling at me because he still loved the blue words that could come slipping out of me and he enjoyed the way it felt risqué to him to be with a woman with my language at times like this. "Such a pretty mouth for such sentiments to have found their home there," he pronounced finally.

"No, it can't be my aunt. She knows better now than to come over unannounced. Now just who could that be?" I asked him. Somewhere inside me, a clarion sounded.

Jack was already slipping into sweat pants and a t-shirt. Raking his fingers through his hair and avoiding looking at himself in the mirror. I watched him walking away from me and ... dammit but the man made me horny just looking at him in all his disheveled wonder ... I mean, he was normally so ... okay, Diary, okay. I admit that there is seldom a time when Jack doesn't turn me on but ... grrrrrr. I loved him all unshaven and wild-haired and looking like he needed nothing so much as to be surrounding my body.

I waited at the door to the bedroom and listened to him unlocking the front door to find out who had the nerve to invade our Sunday. A pair of deep male voices floated up to me. One was Jack. The other was ...

"Oh no! Oh no! Oh NO!!" I was hopping around the bedroom and wringing my hands. "NO!"

Standing there in the middle of the bedroom when Jack came through the door, getting a serious look on his face that must have been in response to my own look of terror. He gently closed the door behind him, held up his hands and advanced on me. "He has traveled a long way, my dear. He simply wants to discuss ..."

"No, please. No. Anyone but him. Jack, can't you just lie and tell him I'm not here?"

"Amorata, it is fine. And, no, I cannot tell him such a transparent and wigged lie. He already knows you are here. I told him I would get you."

"Well, go tell him that you forgot that I left this morning. Tell him I was called out of town on an emergency."

"I will do nothing so dishonorable and beneath either of us. Why would you not want to see Bud?"

More hand-wringing. "Because ... because he's the one that I'm scared of, Jack. God, did he really just come all the way down here to talk to me? You know it's about the ... it's about Pat and ... Jack, he's upset, isn't he? Of course he is. Why would I even ask? I bet he's furious. I can't deal with this. I can't. Not today."

Jack's arms snug around me. "Your heart's racing, my little dear."

"Of course it is! It's Bud. Christ, Jack, but he's going to kill me for this. It's the one thing he's always said is wrong, wrong, wrong." I was hugging in on Jack and it's a wonder he could breathe. "You don't suppose he's like the designated deliverer of bad news from the others, do you? Like maybe they sent Bud down here to tell me to pack my bags and get out? Jack, you will come with me if they kick me out?"

"Ann. Stop this. Do not be ridiculous. Now, let us shower and become presentable. Then we shall see what Bud wants. I am sure you are worrying for nothing."

"Yeah. Right. He hates me. I know it. He'll never forgive me." I wiped my face on Jack's shirt and went into the bathroom to start the shower.

"Are you crying, my love?" he asked me.

Couldn't even look at him so I just kind of shrugged my shoulders as a reply. We barely said a word to each other as we showered. I dithered over drying my hair and putting on a bit of makeup but Jack was pacing so hard in the bedroom that I finally gave up the delaying tactics.

I had my hand firmly in his as we went down the stairs. Peaking around Jack when he stopped in the living room and getting my first glimpse at Bud's face.

Drawn. Tight. Red.

His chin tilted up as he looked down at me through those drowsy eyelids. For all his quiet, he looked like he was barely containing this ferocity that wanted out of his body so badly the moment our eyes met.

"Can I get you some more coffee, Bud?" I asked in this creaky half-whisper.

"We need to talk, Ann."

I couldn't really tell anything from his voice but the flat delivery of those words worried me. Jack felt me shaking in response and he put an arm around me, pushing me over to the couch and then prodding me to take a seat. Bud opened his mouth to say something to me but before he could, Jack stepped between us.

"My brother, I must tell you that your presence here, unannounced and unexpected, is not perhaps the most charitable nor courteous action to take in this day. Ann has been through a most difficult few days and she cannot be subjected to any censure you may have thought to come here to deliver. Perhaps, Bud, it would be best for all concerned were you and I to have words outside. Anything you may care to say to her, you may address to me. If she is at fault, then I share the blame. She did nothing in this ... affair ... without my express permission and approval."

My mouth dropped open and I watched Jack's back. Ramrod straight and ready for anything. Protecting me like it was nothing to him.

"Jack, get the fuck out of the way. This is between me and Ann."

"It is now between you and I. I will not allow you to ..."

"What'd you think I was gonna do, Jack?" Bud's voice suddenly got hard and he stepped toward Jack. "Think I was gonna hit her?"

"I will not allow you to proceed in this manner, Brother."

Bud leaned around Jack and glared at me. "That what you thought, Annie? You think I'd do that to you? What kind of man you think I am? Jesus...you scared of me, Snowflake?"

"I'm scared to hear you say you hate me."

His face went through these emotions. Anger. Disbelief. Awkwardness. Fury. Hurt. It was the hurt I heard in his voice when he spoke to me.

"Annie ... honey. You don't have to be scared of that."

Biting my lip and dropping my eyes from where his were drilling into me. "I don't know about that, Bud. Because you're that important to me. And I'm sorry that what I did is something you won't be able to forgive. Go on and tell me. I know you just came here to ... tell me that you never want to see me again. Go on, Bud. And you can also tell me what a cheap whore you think I am."

"Ah, Christ."

That's all he said. A world of emotion in that one phrase.

And then it was this rapid-fire exchange ... an escalating skirmish of words backed up by threatening body language and clenched fists and men getting in each other's faces and ...

"I must insist that your words and your tone become more civil, Bud," Jack said, his voice stern and unquestionably in command. "This is a most unsuitable manner in which to address my lady and I will not stand for it, sir."

"Get the fuck out of my way, Jack."

"Never. I am afraid I must ask you to leave. Do not make me enforce my invitation for you to retire."

"I said, get the fuck ..." Bud spitting the words out and about ready to take anger at me out on Jack.

But I was between their bodies already and they both regarded me with hard eyes. It is so often just the most wrong move a woman can make to get between men about to ostensibly argue over her when what they're really doing is refusing to back down from where their overactive testosterone has driven them.

"Jack, beloved," saying it softly to him and watching his eyes turn troubled as he breathed hard and deep, still watching Bud warily and wanting to move me out of danger. My hand on his chest and feeling his heart beating steady and sure. "Maybe Bud's right. Maybe this should be between just me and him."

A bit of protestation and time ... but Jack reluctantly withdrew with this slight bow to me and a light kiss upon my temple. A look of warning to Bud as his final action.

When Jack was gone, I took a deep breath and faced Bud, ready for the worst. You know how they say that about Bud, that phrase they use: 'his blood was up' ... and you just know what he would look like? Oh, Diary, this was it in a nutshell.

Cords of tension in his neck. Shoulders bunched. Unable to really be still but movements so pent up that he just did this small semi-pace in front of me. And then he stopped and really looked at me. Such intensity that I took a half-step back. Not fear of physical retribution from Bud; just fear of the emotion I saw.

"What the hell did you think you were doing?" he grated out to me.

Swallowing against a huge knot. "I won't make any excuses, Bud," I said in this soft whisper and he leaned in to hear me. "And I am sorry. But that doesn't really matter, does it? I still did something you think is wrong."

"You're damned right it was wrong. And when did I ever ask you to make excuses?"

His hands gripped in at my forearms and drew me right into him. For some reason, nerves made me start babbling and I told him about what I'd done to go back and be honest with Pat. "I tried to do the right thing in the end. But it's not enough, is it?"

Blinking at me and his grip was no longer bruising. Visibly hesitating, like he wasn't quite sure what to say in response. But finally grating out to me: "I respect that. You did what you could to make it right."

"But it's not enough, is it?" I repeated, hearing my voice waver and get so small. "I don't expect you to forgive me. I know how you feel about this aspect. You have told us all. But I want you to know, Bud, that I think somehow it says so much about the man you are that you came down here to confront me on this ... that you would stand here before me when you tell me that you ... you know."

He slowly released me and then turned away from me. Pacing in these short steps with his knit brow and tight mouth. Stopping in front of me and this look in his eyes ... angry voice for me ...

"You think I'd stop loving you over something like this? You think I haven't seen my share of people being human? What you did was wrong and I'm damned glad you feel as bad as you do about it. It really pissed me off. But it don't piss me off near as much as you believing it'd change how I feel about you."

"What? Bud ... I just ... You have been so clear about ... Of course this changes how you feel."

"You really think I'm so unforgiving? Jesus, Annie, am I that bad that you're afraid of me?"

Looking at my feet and blinking back tears. His hand on my chin forced my head up and I couldn't even get words out because he took one look at me crying and a veil slammed in over his eyes.

"I love you, Annie. I love all you women. You know that, right? Do all of you feel that way... I scare you? Jesus Christ. I can't believe it."

My hand along his cheek and the feel of him pressing into it. Whispering to him. Hoping he understood. "None of us are scared of you, Bud. Not like that. None of us would ever dream that you'd hurt us ... physically. Of course not. You are our White Knight. But, Bud, it's just that ... Yeah, I don't see you forgiving me."

"Annie," his voice croaking out my name and now he had both hands on my face. "You don't have a clue, do you, doll? Not a clue, after all this time."

"Sure I do, Bud. You've been real clear on this."

"You think I'm mad at you for screwing a guy you loved? You think I'm that cold?"

"I think you have a very narrow outlook on this subject -- you've never minced words about how you feel about any of us women going outside you men. You gave me a break when you thought it was just back in the portal -- I figure not only is this different, but it's got to make you re-think what you know about me that I didn't come clean back then when I should have -- to know I was going to try to hide it all but then only revealed it 'cuz I got 'caught.' That's what I figure."

"You confessed, Annie. That ain't getting caught. And maybe I had some time to think about things. People mess up. You messed up. If you ignored it or if it didn't matter to you, then it'd make me think I never knew you. But you've been beating yourself up so damned hard over this that you got me worried, snowflake. That's the real reason I came down here."

"You're screwing with my mind, Bud."

"You're screwing with my heart, baby."

"Maybe I'm just trying to take care of it."

"Like I'm trying to take care of you. Listen, honey -- maybe I feel bad that you're afraid to trust me."

"Bud, that's not fair. I don't think I trust anyone with everything. But I trust you. I think I trust you in the important ways."

"Trust me on this one. Annie, you know I love you. And we're friends, right? You have to know I'd do anything for you. Annie, you're harder on yourself than anyone else ever will be."

Strange night for me. A bit of reclamation, but mostly confusion. With Bud's encouragement, I went online and checked messages from the men and the women in our group. What I expected ... what really should have been there ... was really not nearly what I thought. No one excused me but no one executed me for my crimes, either.

The message from Cort, in particular, cut through like a lost shard of glass. "Judge not, and ye shall not be judged: condemn not, and ye shall not be condemned: forgive, and ye shall be forgiven. That goes for yourself too, Amiga."

And here's the thing about this, Diary. The thing that stayed like this haze around me the whole evening ... how could it be that they could all be so generous with me? Why did I ever deserve that? I was nothing special, yet they acted as if what I had done was something they could see beyond in a way I suspected they might not have overlooked with another. Why then did it make me feel edgy, suspicious and guilty? I am not the person they think I am. Somehow, they have a perception of me that isn't deserved.

It's the writing, I think, Diary. It's the fact I choose what I reveal in the writing. I reveal truths, but perhaps I am never more self-serving than when I choose the truths I will expose in my words. And never more intent on covering up my sins and shortcomings than when untold realities never see the light.

But the men ... that most of those closest to me can come to grips with a side to me they would never have suspected? Why didn't this make me want to earn my own forgiveness? Maybe it's because I've seen my own blackness and never blinked. If I had only been the kind of person who would have blinked ...

There was a huge part of me that only went through the motions that night. Listening to Jack and Bud carry the conversation. Feeling shell-shocked by the proximity to the rawness of my past reality. Wondering what they'd say if they knew. Convinced that the one person who knew some of it was the one person who understood most clearly that I deserved the way he was withdrawing from me.

Or maybe it was just that increasingly, I was withdrawing into my own independence ... a sense of alienation from everyone ... Well, everyone but Jack.

Jack. How he loved me. I wouldn't make it far without him. Perhaps the most frightening realization of all, all things considered.

In the morning, I was puttering in the kitchen after Jack had left on his trip. Leaving me before it was even light out. Leaving me with a smile and a promise.

"Nice to see you looking happy, Annie," Bud's voice filtered in atop the distance to me.

"Good morning, sweetie. How about some pancakes?"

Giggling with him as he regarded me skeptically. And then proving that I could actually give him a pleasant surprise about myself as I fixed him a nice breakfast and doted on him mercilessly. He sat at my counter afterwards and watched me clean up as he sipped coffee.

As I dried the counter before him, his hand reached out and covered mine. Our eyes met. "We straight with each other?"

"I think so," I said.

Got this serious nod of his head and then that chin tilt he does as his hand gripped mine and he drew me around the counter until I was standing in that space between his legs while he remained perched on the stool.

"You're important to me, Annie. You know that, right?"

Trying to keep it light between us. "Absolutely, big guy. Who else is gonna help you make your next fantasy come true? Let's see ... I think you asked me about entertaining you up on a strip joint stage? Is the pole optional because I'm not sure I can really manage it. You know how gifted I am in my clumsiness."

But he gave me back his serious face. "No game, Annie. Not this morning."

"But I like our games."

"Annie." Stopping my transparent attempt to hide in another sex game. "You understand now why I came, right? Just so we got squared away. Just so you'd look me in the face again."

Something in his manner collided with my still-raw confidence. It was when I realized that Jack leaving was making me stand up again. It was when I felt the measure of myself. Felt my willingness to fight the fight come back into me. And I knew it then ... it wasn't just Jack who was giving me back the ability to fight. It was Bud. It was Bud's bruising frankness in that morning that was making me want to be strong.

"I like your face," I told him softly, stroking along his jaw and giving him a bit of the way he was making feel all moon-eyed about him. That he'd come all this way just because he wanted to look me in the eye to find out if I was going to be okay. "Except when it's pissed at me."

We gave each other a brief chuckle.

"Yeah? What happened to the little spitfire who ain't afraid of anything?"

"She's just a big fake. Or maybe she's just a bit bruised lately. I am not really sure."

"It's okay to be afraid sometimes, Annie. Even the tough guys get afraid."

"Tell me what you're afraid of, Bud." I asked it and I am not sure why I did. I'll never be sure why he responded like he did. But his mouth was next to my ear and he was whispering to me ...

And it made me kiss him hard. A tough guy who wasn't afraid to be tender with me.

His breath streaking warm along my skin. Little sigh that rustled into my hair. "Just promise me one thing, snowflake. No more straying."

Swallowing hard and knowing he felt it. "Never again, Bud. Promise."

"One more thing." Now lingering over this kiss just below my ear. His hands so soft on me but his arms unyielding in their hold on me. "Annie, I don't want to change you and me. You and me have always been good together, baby."

The first test of my new resolution. The first of the men to just refuse to let it go unchallenged. Maybe the only one who understood what I'd written that I was no longer going to have any relationship deeper than affectionate friendship except with Jack.

Maybe he was the only one who cared that much about me? Or maybe he was just finding change difficult, Diary.

"We have always been good together, Bud," I whispered to him. "We always will be."

Not a lie. Just not the whole truth. A chosen truth. Just not the rest of the truth.

So me. The perfect example of why I may see myself differently than they do. Than you do, Diary.