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Show house/ 381 "Don't be," he said quickly. "It's not a gift so much as a responsibility." I reflected on this for awhile. Responsibility. The word was like a fishhook embedded in my flesh. Brian was always saying things like that - things that seemed contradictory on the surface, but looking deeper yielded simple truth. But his truths seemed to capture, more than set free, had "I haven'tAmany friends," he was saying. "Brian, how can you say that? There's that group you run around with. " "I:don!t belong with them anymore than with my family.-"' Besides, running with people and being friends isn't the same. You, of all people should know that." I thought of Jeanne. I thought of my companions over the past four years. "You're right." "I hope we'll be friends. Friendships are life's true flowers." I grinned. "What are you ... a poet?" "Yes." "Not really." "I wouldn't say I'm a good poet. But name a subject. I'll try to prove myself." "The Jews in Europe during World War II." I said it without thinking. Then I remembered his last name. "Are you Jewish?" He shook his head. "German. Let's stop here for coffee. You do drink coffee." I nodded vigorously. "I love coffee." He clicked his tongue. "A good Mormon girl like you..." I blushed. "What about you? You were raised in the Church, |