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Larissa Dawson was destined for Hollywood, or so they said. She could sing, dance and act. She had done all three in various school functions when we were kids. The girl was dynamo talented. Still is, as far as I'm concerned.

She was going places, the little old bitties at the salon would say. She would be somebody. To me she already was.

She was pushed to get good grades, pushed to stay fit, pressured to not only enter, but win the state beauty pageant. Not that she had any trouble winning. Larissa was a winner. It was her mother that could not be satisfied with all Larissa's endeavors. She always wanted more for her daughter.

When she wasn't out of town, Larissa volunteered down at our local soup kitchen, collected canned goods for the less fortunate, and entertained at the small nursing home in the heart of our town. But the most relaxed and at peace I've ever seen Larissa was just before sunrise on those warm, summer mornings, when she'd ride her quarter horse, Shamrock (Shammy for short) five miles from the Dawson's farm to the much secluded Briggs pond, where I'd fish.

You know how in movies if a really good looking girl makes her way on to the screen, how everything starts moving in slow motion? How the sunlight catches her hair just right and an almost serene look comes ...

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