The screeching,  high-pitched sound woke Zoya with a start. At first, she thought one of  the cats might be having a seizure, so she jumped from the bed and  looked beneath it. All four felines huddled together. Blanche growled as  if warning a predator. Rose joined in. Sophia and Dorothy cowered.

Zoya rose, and the sound  pierced the air again. She eased to the doorway. Maybe Roman was hurt  or having a bad dream. Stepping into the hall, she tiptoed halfway and  stopped to listen. A low moan followed by short shrill gasps signaled a  woman and advertised her activity.

"Yes, yes, yes!" the female screamed. "Oh, God. Oh, God, yes!"

Zoya's cheeks flamed.  Her stomach spiraled. She wanted to run, but her feet rooted to the  carpet. She pictured a blond sexpot tangled around Roman's muscular  frame, long nails biting into his flesh while he pounded into her.

Moments later, he  grunted, and the room went silent. Zoya's heart raced. Her body tingled.  She'd never been this close to someone actually having sex. Well,  except for the time she slept with Livvy. What she'd just heard didn't  sound unpleasant. She wasn't sure how to describe it. Wild? Erotic?  Pornographic?

A former word of the day  she'd not been able to use came to mind. Amatory. Yeah. That was it.  Expressive of, or inciting sexual love or romance. At last, she could  mark it off the list because there was definitely something amatory  going on in there.

Lost in thought, Zoya  didn't hear Roman, but suddenly he appeared wearing nothing but jeans  zipped, not buttoned. An unlit cigarette dangled from his lips. Still  unable to move, breath caught in her throat as she flattened against the  wall. She closed her eyes and prayed he wouldn't look her way, but when  she opened them, he glared at her with a menacing grin that would rival  the Kathy Bates character in Misery. He didn't speak, but went into the kitchen.

His scowl uprooted her  feet, and she ran to her bedroom and locked the door behind her. She  pulled the covers up to her chin and tried to sleep, but couldn't. Three  hours later, she socked the pillow over her head to drown out more  amatory.

Mariana stood in the  doorway and stared at her son snuggled deep in the comforter, clutching  his favorite stuffed animal, a horse with a missing ear. Most boys his  age were into superheroes, but he was all about animals. The  night-light's glow mixed with sun rays streaking through the window  bathed his angelic face in amber. He was such a good boy, and she wanted  to do so much for him. Get him a real pony. He'd asked for one last  Christmas, and when Santa didn't deliver, Tommy didn't cry. Said he  figured St. Nick thought he needed to be a year older.

Mariana's lip quivered  and her eyes filled with tears. She should accept Andrew's proposal. He  would buy a pony and anything else Mariana asked. Why not say yes and  make everyone's life easier? Move out of her parent's house and into his  country club two-story. No more shopping at thrift stores for school  clothes. Give up her part-time jobs. Open a garage. Get a pedicure.  Damn, it'd been years since she'd had one.

Tommy shifted and made a  little humming noise, then laughed. She couldn't help but laugh, too.  He was dreaming and it must be a good one. His unruly hair poked in  every direction. The child needed a haircut. Zoya would take care of  that.

The thought of her  friend brought Roman to mind. Seeing him yesterday unnerved Mariana and  caused feelings long buried to resurface.

"He's so precious." Mom slipped her arm around her daughter's shoulders.

"I'm going to marry Andrew."

"Oh, mija. Don't. Dad and I know you don't love the man."

She followed as Mariana  went to the sofa and collapsed onto it. "I'm worn out, Mama. Tired of  sponging off you and dad. And working two jobs. I'm sick of Tommy having  to wear mostly hand-me-downs and me never being able to give him  things. Andrew can provide a good life for us. I care for him and that  will have to be enough."

Mom lowered her head and  rolled her eyes. "Maybe for you, but will it be enough for him? He's  got to know how you feel and I can't believe he'll settle for a loveless  marriage. And we've told you paying rent isn't necessary."

"Yeah, but you pay for  everything... Our food, utilities, and free babysitting when I need it.  With the measly amount I pay, I'd say you're losing money."

"No. No. I won't allow  you to do this. In a few months, you'll have your degree and LeBlanc's  brother promised you a job in the shop. Once you're working, your income  will double."

Mariana shook her head  so fast her vision blurred. "Only if they have an opening, which they  don't. That means finding employment in a neighboring city. Driving that  far means more gas, and I'll need a dependable vehicle. It'd be cheaper  to buy a new car than trying to fix that clunker. Higher insurance, and  I'll see less of Tommy. Marrying Andrew will change all that. I won't  even need to work because he wants a baby right away. After that, I can open up a garage..."

"Oh my God!" Her mother reared back. "Listen to yourself. You can't do this. Have you even slept with him?"

"Mama! That's none of your business."

"Maybe so, but I'm  making a point. You haven't, have you? And that's because you're not  sexually attracted to him." She released a long sigh. "Oh, Good Lord.  You're willing to swear to love this man forever and you don't even love  him now. The marriage will be doomed from the beginning." She clasped  Mariana's hands. "You can't do this. Just wait a little longer. I'm  begging you."

Mariana burst into tears and so did Mom.

"What the hell? Did somebody die?"

Mariana turned to face her dad, but her mother spoke.

"Come, talk some sense into your daughter. She's determined to marry Andrew."

Dad folded his arms over  his broad chest and glared at his only child. "Hell no, you're not. End  of conversation." He turned and strolled to the kitchen.

Mariana swallowed hard  and took a deep breath. Once he ended a conversation, it stayed that  way. She wasn't going to bother trying to argue with him. She rose to  her full height and left to milk the goats. Stomping into the barn, she  led Huckleberry, the oldest Nubian into the stall, then grabbed a chippy  stool and stainless bucket from the sterile closet. Plopping down, she  got busy, still shaking from her dad's commandment.

She knew in her heart  that if her dad's single declaration was enough for her to come to a full-stop,  then she herself knew her heart was never really in it.

Mom was right about the  lack of attraction. Andrew was kind and patient, but as hard as Mariana  tried, she just couldn't bring herself to sleep with him. It was wrong  to take advantage of his affection, but to have sex would be even worse.  It would give him hope for a future together, and the more she pondered  the decision, the less she liked it.  Andrew deserved someone who  would make him happy, but so did she. She'd already overcame so much,  being pregnant in a dead end town so young, trying her damndest to open  up her own garage, something she'd been dreaming of since she asked her  dad for soldering tools at eight years old, when all the other little  girls were getting ballerina lessons and Barbie's.

Now she was right back  to her financial woes and bleak horizons. With her meager salary, after  bills, books, and tuition, there was barely any left over. If it wasn't  for the two hundred a month Zoya paid her to run errands, Mariana  wouldn't even have pocket change.

In Arcadia, other than  the school and bank, there weren't many opportunities. Once a person  landed one of those jobs, they kept it. She sniffed and stopped to wipe  her nose, then returned to the sink to wash her hands again, but broke  into tears. With a deep breath, she tried to shake the blues away. It  was despicable to feel sorry for herself. The blame belonged to Roman  and his family, not her. As bad as it was for him to be locked up for  something he didn't do, it was worse for him to be at Charamel's.

"Mama, are you crying?"

Mariana rubbed her cheeks and spun around. "No, baby. Just allergies. Come give me a kiss."

Rushing to her, he  wrapped his arms around her thighs. She stooped to press him closer and  kissed the top of his head. "Did you eat breakfast?"

He released his hold and  stepped back "Yep, ma'am. It's Saturday. Abuela fixed me and abuelito  pancakes. Can I go play in my treehouse?"

"May I go?"

He adjusted the wooden pistol stuck in the jeans pocket. "May I go?"

He looked so cute with  the kerchief tied around his neck Mariana wanted to squeeze him. "Sure.  When I'm done milking, I'll come join you."

She watched him disappear and shamed herself. No amount of money could buy a healthy, happy, loving child.

Zoya heard him coming before he galloped into view.

"Whoa, boy." Tommy  untied his bandanna and wiped his brow like he'd been on the trail for  days, then dismounted his imaginary steed. "You just graze right here,  Gus. I'm gonna climb up that tree and take a look around."

As Tommy's boot hit the top rung, Zoya folded her legs criss cross apple sauce style and sat up straight.

He pulled himself to the opening and leveled his gaze on her. "Whatchoo doing here?"

"The new owner of  Charamel's house moved in yesterday and had a sleepover. I didn't want  to be there when they got up." Last night, Zoya suffered through the  noisy sex twice, but that third time, she couldn't take it anymore. So  at four this morning, she'd gotten dressed, grabbed her flashlight and  pillow, and headed to the treehouse.

"Oh. Do they have kids?"

"No. It's just a man."

The young cowpoke crawled in and sat. "Do you gotta move? Cause if you do, you can live here."

"I don't have to move."  She hesitated, then smiled. "Thank you for offering. I better go."  Rolling onto her knees, she crawled to the door. "See you later."

Zoya took her time  getting back to the house and before stepping into the clearing, she  stopped to check the drive. The girl's car was gone, but now there was a  pickup truck in its place. Surely he didn't have another woman in  there. Her stomach lurched.

Just as she returned to the woods, Roman came around the house with a stranger holding  a clipboard. He made notes as her new landlord gestured as if telling a  story. She waited until they walked to the backyard, then rushed  inside.

The laundry room door  stood open, and no cats were in sight. Didn't he remember the note? Her  instructions? Zipping down the hallway, she located Blanche and Sophia  on her bed. After securing them, she returned with the flashlight to  look under the chair where the remaining two huddled together.

She scanned the area for  damage or accidents, saw none, and relaxed. After a thorough hand  washing, she removed ingredients from the pantry, pulled Charamel's  favorite rolling pin from the drawer and her special pie plate from the  hutch. By the time she rolled dough, Roman came in the back door in a  huff and spoke without looking at her.

"You and the fur balls have to go."

Zoya glared at him. She  had expected him to start up again on leaving, but he wanted to get rid  of the Golden Girls, too? "Why are you an enemy of cats?"

"I'm not. But you have a whole damn herd."

"They're not mine. They belonged to your grandmother."

"I don't care. I want all of you out of here. You're cramping my style."

Zoya's chest tightened. Even the mention of Charamel didn't affect him. Hopefully, Mariana was right, and the dessert would.

"No, I'm not. I have said nothing about that woman you brought here and I left so she  wouldn't see me and interfere with your style, if that's what you want to call it."

Now he looked at her,  his eyes narrowed into slits. "Then why were you trying to spy on me? If  you want to watch, just say so. That can be arranged. Might even let  you join in."

"I wasn't spying. I don't want to watch or join in."

"Yeah, well, this arrangement isn't going to work for either of us. Best you hit the road."

"You don't even want me to finish the pie?" Now she had his full attention.

He zeroed in on the perfect circle in front of her, and his angry expression evaporated. "You're making a pie?"

"Buko. Your grandmother taught me."

He froze. Stared. A vein  below his ear jumped. Her heart picked up more speed. If this didn't  work, she'd be out the door right along with the Golden Girls. Then he  stepped closer.

"What else you got?"

"Fried chicken. Mashed potatoes. Cream gravy. Green beans from the freezer."

"Dammit to hell." He turned on his heel and headed back outside.

Someone is on the losing side of this battle and it sure as hell ain't Zoya.

Poor Mariana, she definitely doesn't have an easy go of it. Things can only look up.

Thank you guys for reading! If you enjoyed this chapter, please consider leaving a vote or feedback. That'd be super cool.

TEASER: Covered from top to bottom, she wore one of Charamel's old housecoats, the pink gingham with bright blue flowers, along with yellow rubber gloves, a dust mask, protective goggles, orange and green striped knee-high socks pulled over her shoes, and a Christmas scarf printed with reindeer, tied around her head.