I was a young widow with five children when I married Charlotte's father in 1970. One month after the marriage, Charlotte moved in with her two year old daughter, after her husband deserted her and the baby.  We found a large, lovely country home in the hills of Tennessee.  Being an only child, it was hard to visualize her adapting to this large brood of children.  To make matters even more astonishing the same week,  I had to travel to Arkansas and get my little niece, age 3 and nephew,  age 4 1/2, as their mother was leaving them behind and moving to another country.  My brother, the children's father was in Vietnam.   We must have had nerves of steel as the children ranged in ages from two through fourteen.  Eleven of us under one roof. Charlotte and I got along great, and she seemed to enjoy this big instant family.  She had not had a close relationship with her mother and had only seen her several times since age fifteen.  She never discussed the abuse she endured at the hands of a mother who had an addiction to drugs, until many years later.  She mentions it on her web site. 

Charlotte's father was a controller.  He provided for us nicely, but required absolute dedication to his wishes and requests.  If we had friends, they were the ones he selected, and we were secluded from any social life of our own.  Shopping without him,  or visits  to any of my former friends were banned.  He set our house rules, that suited his wishes.  No one sat up a second later than the scheduled bed time.  Meals were served and eaten at a  certain time in the dining room only, with all  household members  present.  Curfews for the teens and Charlotte were firm and imposed without regard for unanticipated circumstances. No cause was justification for punctuality.   

I think I was able to accept this way of living as I was already showing symptoms of agoraphobia during this time, so this isolated life style suited me.  One night however, I decided the children deserved more liberty and insisted  my husband leave the home.   As I passed Charlotte's room, I noticed she was packing her and her child's effects.  I entered the room and ask her if it was her desire to leave also.  She told me she had no choice, given that I had told her father to leave.  I assured her, she was wanted, that this was between her father and I, and  had no affect on her position in the home.  She burst into tears of relief, and declared that she  did not want to leave.  My step daughter had discovered she was loved, not because she was someone's child, but for herself.  Her father and I later reconciled and lived together many years  (fifteen) before I did leave him  for good.  Charlotte had married and was one of my closest friends.  For 32 years we were there for each other.  Life without her daily phone calls and visits will be lonely and I will always cherish the memories of times spent with my step daughter and friend.