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Story Notes:
Author's Note: My original character, Liz, is in this story. If you’d like to read more about Liz, check my other stories, “C’est la Vie,” “Forever,” and “Holding Hands” on FF.net. Thank you, Cheryl, for your beta skills and, most of all, your support from start to finish. Thank you, Miriam for your hard work and all your suggestions, I really appreciate it. And thank you, Lorna, for your great last minute suggestions.

Disclaimer: Scarecrow and Mrs. King is the property of Warner Brothers and Shoot the Moon enterprises. This story is for entertainment purposes only. No infringement of rights is intended.
Eighteen-year-old Phillip King threw open the door to his parents’ recently purchased Rockville house. Part of his urgency was due to the cold wind of mid December, but mostly he was happy to be home from college for Christmas break. He'd been back to visit on and off during the semester, but hadn’t actually slept in his bed since September.

As he plowed inside, Phillip barely missed running into his stepfather. Lee’s coat, and the car keys in his hand, indicated he was on his way out.

"Whoa, there!" Lee grasped his shoulder, keeping Phillip from falling back, and pulling him into a hug.

"Hey, Lee."

"Phillip, welcome home.” Lee grinned. “ How were finals?"

"Fine," Phillip answered with a shrug, then quickly changed the subject. "Where are you going"

"I'm going out to warm up the car. You're mother and I need to run to the store. You need anything?"

"Nah," Phillip said, turning and racing up the stairs. He was eager to deposit his duffle bag and take possession of his room.

"Okay." Lee answered. "Uh, Phillip?" He called out, but Phillip was already at the top of the stairs.

Sliding his bag from his shoulder to the crook of his arm, he opened his bedroom door. What he saw was the last thing he had expected. Dropping the bag with a thump, he pursed his lips in a scowl and narrowed his eyes. No matter what he did, he just couldn't get away from Liz Jones. She was a pain at school -- always doing things so. . . perfectly. And now, here she was, in his house, in his room, in his bed, for God’s sake. Suddenly, Christmas break wasn't looking to be so great after all.

As if sensing his thoughts, the sleeping figure in his bed turned from him to face the wall and snuggled deeper into the comforter, her long blonde hair fanning out over the quilted surface.

The fact that she seemed so comfortable in his bed only made him more upset. He pivoted and stalked from his room, not bothering to close the door, and then stomped down the stairs.

"MOM!"

"I'm in the kitchen," his mother’s voice rang out.

"Mom. . . There’s a girl in my bed. . .” he complained as he entered the kitchen.

Amanda looked up from a baking sheet covered with her last batch of Christmas cookies. “Hey, that‘s no way to say hello to your mother.“ Stepping forward, she put her arms around him. He heard her mutter under her breath, "I swear if you pick up any more of Lee's bad habits..."

After returning the hug, Phillip stepped back, frowning, his hands resting on his hips. “Okay, hello. Now, what’s Liz doing in my bed?”

“You sound like one of the three bears, all grumpy that Goldilocks is in your bed,” Amanda teased. He refused to smile, and she continued, more seriously, “Honey, Liz isn’t feeling well. I told her to go lie down.”

“Does she have to lie down in *my* bed? Why is she here, anyway? Is she staying here?”

"Phillip," Amanda admonished him. "Yes, she's staying here. Since her grandmother passed away, she doesn’t have anyone else. We're the closest thing she has to family now, and I expect you to act like it."

Phillip wrinkled his nose in distaste. He was doing just fine without a 'sister'. Especially one that was so good at everything.

His Mother turned toward him, pinning him with her gaze. Suddenly uncomfortable, he stared down at the floor.

“She doesn’t have anywhere to go, Phillip.”

His head shot up, and he thrust his chin in the air defiantly. "She has her own house -- a whole house!"

"There isn't anyone there that she cares about. She wants to be here and we're happy to have her."

***

"Well, at least most of you are," Liz said from the kitchen doorway.

"Liz, you're up." Amanda smiled.

"Yeah, someone was making a lot of noise and left the door open so I could hear every word of it."

"It's my door; I can leave it however I want it. . . "


"No, it's my door," Amanda finished sliding the fresh baked cookies off the sheet and onto a cooling rack and put down her spatula. “Now, Lee and I are going to the store. I trust you two won't kill each other while we're gone?" She wiped her hands on a dishtowel and gave them each a stern but, motherly look.

Liz nodded slightly and noticed Phillip doing the same.

"Oh," Amanda said, turning back for a moment as she left the room. "Phillip, your father called. He wants you to call him back."

"Okay," Phillip acknowledged. He made a face at Liz once his mother was out of sight.

Liz rolled her eyes as he turned away from her.

Sitting down at the kitchen counter, she snuck a Christmas tree shaped sugar cookie from the cooling rack. As she nibbled on the treat, she watched Phillip as he quickly dialed a number and waited for someone to answer. "Dad? Hi, it's me. . . Yeah. . . Good." She shifted her attention to the morning newspaper sitting on the kitchen counter. Sounded like an average, boring conversation to her.

When Phillip had said nothing for more than a few moments, she looked up again. The grin he'd had on his face when the conversation started, was now gone. As she watched him, his face fell even more.

"Why?" he asked softly. "Oh. . . okay. . . yeah, bye." He hung up the phone., replacing the handset in the cradle with a bang.

"What was that about?" Liz asked cautiously.

Phillip looked startled at the sound of her voice as if he had forgotten she was there at all. "Uh, my dad. . . we had plans, but he says he has to leave the country. Business. He won't be back until after Christmas."

"Oh," Liz answered. Hesitantly, she added, "I know how that feels."

He looked up to meet her eyes. For a moment it seemed he was going to say something else, but he simply turned and left the room.

She sighed to herself. Maybe it was a bad idea to stay here. This had been her refuge when her father died, but she had soon tired of constantly being under Lee and Amanda's watchful eyes, and had wanted to go home. Now. . . now she didn't really have a home. Yes, she had inherited a big house when her grandmother died, but she had come to DC to go to school, so she could get away. She didn't plan on going back to Richmond; she had no emotional ties there. Amanda and Lee were the closest thing she had to family anywhere.

***

From the kitchen window, Phillip watched Liz shoot another basket. Suddenly, he wanted to talk to her. Normally, she just seemed like a thorn in his side, but the way she'd looked at him when he'd told her about his dad -- he really believed she knew exactly how he felt. He opened the kitchen door and headed toward her. "Hey."

Liz nodded in return and shot another basket.

"I thought you were sick?"

Liz caught the ball as it bounced toward her. "I have a little cold. I'm not incapacitated.

"If you have a cold you shouldn't be out here. . . in the cold. It's not good for you." Phillip said in his best fatherly tone.

Liz rolled her eyes. "Okay, mommy." She carefully aimed the ball, and it once again swooshed easily through the net.

Dropping the subject of Liz's health, Phillip caught the basketball before it hit the ground. He threw it roughly to Liz. "Remember the last time we played ball?"

Liz caught the ball against her chest. "Yeah," she smiled, "you still owe me ten bucks."

Phillip smiled back. Suddenly, he didn’t mind her being there.

The tension was broken, and he and Liz fell into an easy rhythm of alternately shooting the ball and retrieving it.

"That was right after your father died, right? When you were here last?" Phillip shot the ball.

"Yeah," Liz answered simply.

"Were you close?"

She caught the ball as it bounced toward her. Cradling it in her arm, she seemed to ponder the question for a moment. "I wanted to be. But he was always away."

There it was, that look again. Somehow it gave Phillip the courage to talk about his own father.

"Yeah, me too. I mean my dad lived in Estoccia most my life. He's here now, but he still travels a lot." They stood for a moment, and Phillip noticed she hadn’t moved to shoot the ball again. He was sure she was getting tired, and he was sure she wouldn’t admit it.

He ducked his head toward the picnic table. “Let’s sit down.”

They perched on top of the table and she asked, “Is that where he’s going now? To Estoccia?”

"Yeah, some emergency or something. He probably won't be back until January."

"I'm sorry."

"Hey, it's okay.” He shrugged. “I'll see him in January.

"Yeah."

Phillip studied his hands, clasped in front of him. He cleared his throat. “Listen, I’m sorry about getting upset earlier. It's cool if you stay here."

Liz smiled. "Thanks."

As she looked at him, Phillip realized that he had never noticed how blue her eyes were. Suddenly, two short honks sounded from the front of the house, ending the moment. "Those are my friends," Phillip said hopping off the table.

"Okay, I should go in." She nodded.

"See ya."

"Yeah, later."

***

It was almost midnight when Phillip returned to a dark and quiet house. Closing the door behind him, he locked it and set the alarm. He was just starting to go up the stairs, when he heard a rustling in the den. Unable to resist checking it out, he quietly crept into the room and stopped a few feet from the couch.

Tiny colorful lights from the Christmas tree in the corner cast a festive glow around the room. On the couch, Liz turned, kicking the blanket halfway off her legs and ending up on her stomach. "Hi," she mumbled into her pillow.

Phillip laughed quietly. "What are you doing?"

“Sleeepping. . .” She drew the word out, implying the answer should be obvious.

“Oh,” he smiled. "Why didn't you pull the bed out?"

She sat up halfway, "Are you kidding? That mattress is much worse than the couch."

"I wouldn't know."

Liz frowned, "I'm gonna help Lee and Amanda finish the room downstairs this weekend so I can stay down there. I told them not to bother, but they insisted they’d been planning on fixing up a guest room forever." She sneezed, then reached for a Kleenex, "So this is just temporary."

"Gesundheit." Phillip thought for a moment, then untangled the blanket from her legs. "Hey, then why don't you just sleep in my room tonight."

"What?"

"You're never gonna get any sleep down here on the couch, and, believe me, I can sleep anywhere. Besides, your germs are probably all over my room." He grinned.

"Well, they're probably here, too."

"I'll sleep the other way." He pointed to the opposite end of the couch.

Yawning, Liz got up, and he took her place sitting on the couch. Still grinning, he started taking off his shoes.

As he slipped his second sneaker off, he looked up and saw Liz looking at him from the doorway.

"Phillip?"

"Yeah?"

Liz smiled. "Thanks."

Phillip nodded back, and she disappeared around the corner. Maybe Christmas break wouldn't be so bad after all.

The End
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