Author: JustSkipIt
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy own Willow and Tara and the Buffyverse.
Feedback: Please leave feedback on the Menorah Tales thread on the Kitten Board.
Notes: I'd like to thank Candleshoe and binky who answered some legal questions that I posted over on the Beta board. I've taken what you've said and some liberties. I hope what I've written isn't too egregiously incorrect.
Flashbacks indented, thoughts italicized, dreams indented & italicized.

About a year later

Willow lifted her hand to her cheek, noting the way Tara's hand seemed to fit so easily and perfectly into her own. It didn't even seem weird any more. It was just what was so. Their hands, linked, as they should always be. Perhaps as they had always been. Tara's fingers felt so warm against her cheek and she enjoyed them there before letting their hands drop again to swing between the girls. Tara had a knowing smile on her face and another time, Willow would wonder what it meant.

Now though, all that mattered was Tara's hand in her own. As one they stopped walking and turned toward the ocean to settle gently onto the sand. Both girls could hear the waves on the beach as they came in, lapped at their toes, and then receded.

Tara sniffed quietly and Willow wondered if her lover was smelling the sun about to peek above the water.

My lover?

The thought didn't make any sense yet it seemed so true. She looked sideways at the blonde and noted the smile, the happiness seeming to cover her face. It was a look of absolute happiness and contentment. Of knowing what she wanted and where she belonged. Tara turned her head and looked at Willow and then smiled.

"Yes, your lover," she seemed to say although her lips never moved.

This time Tara opened her lips as she spoke. "The sun is coming up."

Willow glanced at her wrist, noting the time on her watch. "I know but I don't want to leave."

Tara lifted the redhead's hand to her lips and pressed a kiss to her palm.

Willow woke with a start, her breath coming in gasps and gulps. Her hand ached and tingled as she pulled it from under her stomach and started rubbing it to get her blood flowing again. She flexed her fingers as she looked around the room, trying to understand where she was, what the dream meant, anything. She still wasn't used to the feeling of waking from these dreams even though she'd been having them more and more often. Sometimes she remembered bits or pieces of her dreams--the feeling of soft hair brushing against her cheek or the smell of vanilla-but more frequently it was just the pulsing of her blood in her veins and another strange feeling. She woke needing to go to the bathroom but never went that much when she got up.

An arm dangled over the edge of the bed and she vaguely recalled Faith saying that there was no reason for everyone to sleep on the floor before crawling up and quickly falling asleep. Two half-emptied net bags of chocolate gelt and one completely empty container (again courtesy of Faith) littered the top of Willow's usually neat desk.

Willow took another cooling breath and shook her head before reaching gently over to touch Tara. She fell slightly off balance as her hand, rather than contacting a Tara-shaped sleeping bag lump, hit a floor-shaped sleeping bag lump. The light coming from under the door to Willow's bathroom gave away Tara's position but Willow would have figured it out anyway as her own breathing finally calmed enough for her to hear the quiet sobs.

Willow eased open the door to the bathroom and pulled it closed behind her to avoid waking up Faith, not that the girl ever woke up for anything less than an impending (and loud) apocalypse. The moment she had closed the door she dropped to her knees and crawled over to Tara. The blonde sat against the tub, a hand towel already soaked with her tears held to her mouth.

"You should have woken me," Willow whispered as she tentatively reached out to stroke Tara's hair. Tara didn't answer nor look at the redhead but she didn't pull away from Willow's touch either. After a few strokes, Willow settled next to her friend and reached an arm around her, pulling the blond closer. "Go ahead and cry. You can cry with me," she whispered as Tara settled into her arms.

Willow couldn't take her eyes off Tara; she looked so alone. Even though she sat, her father on one side, and a woman Willow assumed must be Tara's grandmother on the other side, she looked utterly alone and bereft. Donnie sat on their father's other side, his back ramrod straight, his jaw clenched.

Later Tara told Willow that her father had told them that Maclays did not cry in front of others. That to show emotion or weakness would make them seem less in the eyes of their friends and family. He didn't say to do their best or even that he knew it was a hard time.

It was an edict.

For every tear Tara didn't shed that day, Willow must have shed three or four. She felt like she'd been crying for months. Her mother's arm wrapped around her and she could feel that shaking too. Somehow she hadn't expected her parents to be so upset. How could they be? They were parents. Willow's hand found Faith's and she knew the girl was trying not to cry but she was failing miserably. Ira and Giles stood behind the women, each occasionally reaching out to grasp a shoulder.

Willow felt as if she had to move closer to Tara. She could see her friend's shoulders shaking and no one was doing anything to comfort her. The preacher's voice droned on and on about a life fully lived and taken too soon and the redhead wondered how both could be true. That Elizabeth Maclay had left a loving devoted husband and two strong children. That she had left her mark in the help she gave to all who met her. Faith's hand tightened in hers and Willow realized she had lifted one foot to move closer to Tara. She started and looked down at their hands before looking at Faith.

"Not now, Red," Faith whispered.

Willow looked at their hands again before settling back onto her heels. The preacher finished his sermon and stepped back and a few seconds later the group heard the low hum of machinery as coffin began to be lowered into the hole in the ground. The redhead fixed her gaze on her best friend and wondered how Tara could stand it.

Her mother--being lowered into the ground?

Willow's silent count reached 47 Mississippi before the creaking stopped and Tara's father stood and moved toward the mound of Earth near the hole. Before lifting the shovel he removed the rose from his lapel and kissed it before dropping it into the grave. Willow realized that she felt almost shocked at the gesture, as if it had never occurred to her that the man actually loved his wife, nor that he would be mourning. He lifted the shovel and dug a mound of dirt and dropped it into the hole before handing the shovel to Donnie who repeated the ceremony without the flower. Tara, following her father and brother, forewent the shovel, bending to take two handfuls of dirt and slowly allowing them to fall onto the coffin. Willow heard and noted every drop that contacted the coffin as the blonde stood for seconds at the edge of her mother's grave before brushing her hands into the hole. Tara's grandmother's motions completed the immediate family's and they retook their seats as the rest of the attendees stepped forward to mimic them.

Finally Willow tore her eyes from Tara to question her mother quietly. "Will we do that?"

She needent have asked as her father stepped around them to take his place in the line forming near the grave and reached his hand back to hers. Willow felt grateful that her father was there to show her what to do. She knew without looking that her mother was behind her followed by Faith and Mr. Giles.

That day, Tara hadn't cried, even as Willow's family passed and paid their respects, even as Willow hugged her and cried and couldn't stop until finally her father gently pulled her away. Willow had gotten into the car still unable to see through the tears falling from her eyes.

Now, Tara's body shook as she cried. Willow continued to hold her friend while tears fell from the blonde's eyes onto Willow's pajamas, soaking more than a few menorah and stars of David. The redhead rocked her friend gently, stroking her hair and whispering. She leaned down and kissed the top of the girl's head, enjoying the way that felt and then doing it again. Oh God, what a creep I am. She's crying over her mother and I'm making out with the top of her head. She started to loosen her hold but Tara's hand gripped her arms and kept them in place, wrapped tightly around her.

Finally, Tara stopped crying and released her grip on Willow's arms. She shifted slightly, drawing back as the redhead inhaled sharply. "A-are you ok?" She looked down and scooted a few inches across the floor.

"I'm fine. Fine. FineyMcFine," Willow lied as she attempted to stretch her back without letting Tara see what she was doing.

"You're sore from holding me," Tara argued as she came closer and gently touched Willow's side.

Willow winced slightly before realizing that the blonde was beginning to rub a circle just where her muscle ached. "That feels good," she admitted.

"Let me wash up my m-mess of a face." Before Tara could stand up, Willow's hand shot out to grasp hers.

The redhead's other hand softly cupped Tara's chin. "Your face could never be anything but beautiful."

Tara blushed and tried to look away but Willow wouldn't let go of her chin. Finally the blonde mouthed, "thanks" before moving away and washing her face. By the time she finished, Willow was standing by the tub, bending over first to one side and then the other. The redhead was turned away and didn't see the look on Tara's face as she watched the way Willow's shirt strained against her body. Willow certainly wasn't developing like either Faith or Tara but she couldn't be mistaken for a boy any longer either. Why am I thinking this? She guiltily looked away as Willow stopped her motions and then retook her seat on the floor.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Willow offered as she patted the star-shaped fuzzy matt covering the floor.

Tara took a seat close enough that she could lay her head in Willow's lap. She had noticed long ago that everything seemed better when the redhead played with her hair and when she could smell the other girl. At first she had found it really weird that she was actually attached to her best friend's scent it's not like I'm a wolf or a coyote but, having no one else to ask about it and not wanting to bring it up to Willow of all people, she had decided to set the weirdness aside and just enjoy her friend.

"I don't know what I'm going to do." Tara's voice was barely above a whisper. She expected Willow to ask about what, or say something but the redhead just continued playing with her hair. After a few seconds Tara spoke again. "I mean she's gone. And I'm only 16 years old. I'm not old e-enough to lose my m-mother."

Willow continued stroking Tara's hair, a small part of her mind wondering if it was wrong to feel so good when she felt so bad. "I know, baby, it's not fair. It's not fair at all."

"She didn't tell me everything I n-n-need to know," Tara said vaguely.

Willow scrunched up her eyebrows as she tried to understand what the blonde was saying. "Like what?"

"Like the secrets," Tara said, feeling embarrassed as she did.

Willow was completely lost by Tara's line of thought. It wasn't often that the redhead felt lost and certainly not often that she couldn't follow Tara. The two girls were like twins most of the time and Willow knew what Tara was thinking every moment and knew that Tara felt the same way. "What secrets?"

"I d-d-don't know."

Willow gripped Tara's hand as she tried to reassure her and understand her at the same time. "Ok, well whatever you're worried about, we'll find out together. I mean there's my mom and my dad and Mr. Giles and the entire Internet."

"I d-d-don't think I could talk to them..." Tara blushed as she thought about the kind of questions she had.

"Couldn't talk to ..." Willow looked at Tara and tried to work it out. "Oh! Oh, I get it. You mean... because we're um growing and um changing?" Tara nodded but didn't make eye contact. How could she tell Willow that most of her questions involved the redhead?

"It's ok, baby," Willow attempted to reassure her friend, fully aware that she couldn't even speak to her mother about the issues she was finding so confusing these days, "it's going to be ok. I promise." She didn't know how but she had to make Tara feel better. She shifted around so that she was lying on the floor facing Tara and took the blonde's face in her hands. "I promise it will be ok. And I'll always be here for anything you could need."

Somehow having Willow's hands on her face made the blonde feel better. Her eyes looked so sincere and promising. "Anything?"

"Anything."

"What about the rest of your gelt?" Tara cracked a smile.

Willow sat up quickly and pressed a hand to her chest. "Now I know what I mean to you," she said in mock indignation.

Tara sat up just as quickly. "I don't think you could." As the words left her mouth she immediately regretted them. You're a dork! Why don't you just tell her that you are a complete pervert and that you were ogling her earlier while you're at it?

Willow tilted her head a little to the side as she noted the suddenly serious tone in Tara's voice followed by the girl's cutting her eyes to the side quickly. "I think I do." You're not supposed to feel like this. Seeing her eyes shouldn't make your heart soar. Holding her and stroking her hair shouldn't be the greatest joy in your life. Get a grip, Rosenberg. Aiming for a quick recovery she stood up and extended her hand toward the blonde while lifting the other wrist to check her reliable watch. "It's 3:45. Maybe we should go back to sleep."

Tara nodded and followed the redhead from the bathroom, turning off the light as she went. Even as tired as she was, as worn out from what felt like months of constant crying, her head was so full that it took a long to finally fall asleep.

In spite of her lack of sleep, Tara woke before either Faith or Willow. She quietly rose and went into the bathroom. Within minutes she was padding downstairs. She looked in the hallway mirror to ensure that she looked presentable then knocked gently on the door to the study and waited. After a few seconds she heard footsteps and then the door swung open.

"Tara, please come in." Mr. Rosenberg stepped to the side and waved his hand as if physically inviting the girl.

"Thank you, Mr. Rosenberg," Tara said, mentally congratulating herself for not stuttering. Once he invited her to take a seat she did and even accepted the cup of tea he offered her.

Mr. Rosenberg handed over the cup and took a seat behind his neat desk. "How are you doing?"

"I'm o-ok. I mean..."

"If you need to talk, Sheila or I can talk anytime," he offered. Tara nodded and he reached for a folder on his desk. "I assume you wanted to talk about this." She nodded again.

"Ok, did your mother's lawyer explain it to you?"

"She said that my mother set up a trust for m-my college. Um, and that my f-father doesn't know about it. Um, and that you're the I think she said trustee and that you'll manage it until I need the money?" Tara breathed a sigh of relief that she was able to get that all out so smoothly. The conversation a few days earlier with her mother's lawyer, conducted just out of earshot of her father and brother had shocked her and she wasn't sure that she understood what it all meant.

Ira nodded as Tara spoke. "I don't know how your mother managed to do it without your father's knowledge but she set up this trust for you. You are the sole beneficiary. As you said, I will manage the trust until you either graduate from college or turn 25. At that time, any remaining proceeds become yours."

"So you'll pay my application fees and tuition and books?" Tara felt like dancing a jig but she wanted to stay calm enough to follow what Willow's father said.

"Whatever you need for school, Tara," he confirmed. Seeing the tears welling up in her eyes he reached for his handkerchief and walked around the desk to hand it to her. After looking discretely away so that she could gather her composure for a few seconds, he asked, "Tara, you don't have to tell me but do you know why your mother would want this kept a secret from your father?"

Tara nodded and looked away. "My f-f-father doesn't think that girls should go to college. He only wants Donnie to go."

Mr. Rosenberg nodded. "I see. Well, the way this trust is set up, he can't stop you from going."

Tara smiled broadly. "Is it... um... I mean is there enough... um... I don't know that my m-mother had very much..."

"I'm going to invest it very conservatively because we only have 2 years until you go to school but even so, it should be enough to put you through your undergraduate degree. You may even have a little bit left over."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Wow." Tara again dabbed at her eyes. Hearing noises in the room above them, she looked at the clock.

"Now, Tara," Ira started, "You're my client which means that I won't tell anyone about this. Not even Willow or Sheila. You can tell them but I won't."

"Ok. Thank you, Mr. Rosenberg," Tara said as she started to stand up.

Willow's father smiled. "I've asked you before to call me Ira." He waited to see the blonde's smile. "My only question is how should I contact you should I need to? I understand you don't want me to call your house."

Tara nodded vigorously. "I asked Mr. Giles on Friday and he s-said you can call him at the library and he'll tell me when he sees me."

Ira smiled. "Very well. It's a good thing Mr. Giles moved to the high school this year then."

"Very," Tara agreed. Again noting the noises above her she quickly said goodbye to Ira and let herself out of the study. She smiled on her way up the stairs knowing that even after she was gone, her mother was providing her with a chance at her dreams.