Loss

By Fantasy

Character Disclaimer: The characters of Xena and Gabrielle do not belong to me; they belong to Mr. Tapert and Renaissance Pictures/MCA. I am not making any big bucks from this, nor little ones either. The characters and I are just taking a little tour of the USA, and then I’ll bring them home unharmed. All the other characters are of my own invention; no one else would want them.

Musical Talent Disclaimer: I have none, so I borrowed Martina McBride’s beautiful song, "There You Are" to use in this story; if I had any poetic talents, I would not have had to borrow the tune. Thank you Ms. McBride; you truly are an artist.

Violence Disclaimer: The theme of child abuse is central to this piece, however, even though it is mentioned often, it is not terribly graphic. Still, if this subject bothers you, please do not read this story!

Sex Disclaimer: What!? I have nothing against sex. This story is not for the faint of heart, nor for those persons under the age of consent (21 years). DO NOT READ THIS AT WORK!! (Besides, you’re not s’pose to be doing that at work anyway.) This story depicts a loving relation-ship between persons of the same sex. (SHOCK) So if you have a personal bias against this sort of thing, (get a crow bar and pry open your mind) or if it is illegal in your state, don’t read this; I’m currently unemployed, and don’t need the added stress of being sued.

Let’s see…Oh yeah.

Hurt/Comfort: This story runs the gambit of emotions; it follows the lives of two soulmates for a period of nearly forty years. Some of you gentler souls may need a hanky or two, but that’s okay. There are places herein where sad things happen, but then life is like that sometimes. Hopefully it will all work out in the end…

This is my first attempt at FanFic, although not my first attempt at writing. Rejection is something I’m all too familiar with; however, if you insist on trashing this piece, do so quickly and quietly. Constructive criticism is welcome; praising profusely is even better. You can get in touch with me at the following addy: fantasy@asotin-wa.com. There, I think that about covers everything; if I’ve missed anything, this final caveat covers that too: IT’S NOT MY FAULT; I DIDN’T KNOW THAT!!

September, 2000

Prologue: March 15, 2000

Loss, a funny looking little word really, rather nondescript actually. It certainly isn’t a very imposing word at all. It doesn’t rank up with a word like excruciating or serendipity; now those are "fifty cent" words, my dad used to say. Loss can be a frightening word, but what is loss. You can suffer all kinds of loss. Some losses are more trivial than others are. For instance, you can lose your keys, lose the grocery list, not terribly traumatic. You can suffer the loss a loved one, a life, or lose your nerve. You can lose your way, or all of the above. Loss can shatter you to pieces; loss can make you numb to everything around you…

Chapter 1: May 1, 1969

"If you don’t get up now you’ll be late for school, so I suggest, unless you relish the notion of suffering the wrath of "God’s Assistant on Earth", you best get up now!" God, he’s in rare form this morning. But Dad was right about "God’s Assistant"; Sister Mary Elizabeth was hell on wheels if anyone, she seemed to take special delight is chastising me, was late for morning Mass and her morning catechism class. Get up, get moving before you tick him off too; old Sis Liz has nothing on Dad when it comes to chastisement. God, less than a year, then I’m outta here with no looking back; the one promise I made to myself I intend to keep; wonder if I’ll last that long.

Dad was already headed out the door. "Don’t forget, you have piano lessons tonight after school, and I’m working late. We’ve got to keep the fertilizer plant going all night again to keep the farmers happy. Your breakfast is ready."

"I’m not doing piano anymore," I declared defiantly, daring him to do or say something. That stopped dear old dad in his tracks. "Don’t you remember, I told you that two weeks ago, I’m playing softball? Coach says I have a wicked fast ball. He thinks we have a really good chance to go to state this year." I tried not to let my enthusiasm and hope get the better of me, not to worry smart-ass, no danger of that. Shut up, I didn’t ask you! "You said you didn’t care, or were to too drunk to remember?" Oop’s, that for sure won’t fly. Who asked you? Did I mention I had a pain in the ass little voice? Who needs little voices!

"Listen, don’t think you’re too old to get a "butt whoopin", and just remember who it is who pays the bills around here. Where do you suppose you’d be if I hadn’t taken you in when your mother wouldn’t? She didn’t want you, y’know. And, I don’t have a drinking problem. You’d drink too if you had all the problems I’ve got."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, same old same old. Maybe it wasn’t me she didn’t want, maybe it was a mean old drunk who ran her off!" Oh shit’s gonna hit the fan now. I could see his hands balling into fists, and I knew what was coming. "Go ahead and hit me; wouldn’t be the first time, beatin’ up on women and kids is about your speed anyway. Have fun with your fertilizer. I’m gone." Hands reached out and grabbed so quickly, I didn’t have a chance to react. My old man’s nothin’ if he ain’t quick.

"Where do you think you’re going; I’m not done yet… This is your fault y’know that don’t ya, just like your mother; she made me do this too. I’m doing this for your own good. All I’m trying to do is teach you some respect." I felt the belt land across my back, butt, and thighs again and again. I lost count of the number of times his hand rose and fell, when he dropped the belt I knew I was in serious trouble. The next thing I knew I was flying across the room my head impacting with the end of the sofa with a sickening thud. "Get yourself cleaned up and get to school, I’d better not get a call from Sister Mary Elizabeth about you being late or you’ll get another lickin’. Now get movin’!"

I managed to pull myself up with the arm of the sofa. I sat down and waited for the fog to clear before I tried to stand up. Dam, why me. My reflection stared squarely back at me from the bathroom mirror. How you going to explain this one? How long are you going to let this go on, ‘til the next time, and his anger goes too far and you end up dead? Leave me alone, I never asked for your opinion. Little voices can be such a pain in the butt, but one thing’s for sure, how are you going to explain this. The angry red mark on my jaw and split lip at the corner of my mouth served notice to anyone who cared to look what happened, but we all knew things like child abuse never happened in Bannock, California, evidence to the contrary.

My thoughts swirled around inside my head as I walked to school; the warm spring sun failed to penetrate my gloom. It always comes back to me; it’s never his fault. I’m to blame for all his misfortune. Yeah right! Like I’m the one who forces all that booze down his throat every night. It’s my fault he has to work in a farm co-op thirteen hours a day; my fault his girlfriend dumped him; my fault he’s got arthritis; my fault he didn’t get to go to high school. Hell, I wasn’t even born then, but that doesn’t matter. It’s still my fault, never his, and he has the nerve to ask me when I’m going to start showing some responsibility. Like cooking his meals, cleaning his house, washing his clothes and all the other BS I have to do around here doesn’t require responsibility. Shit, enough of the "pity party"; I’ll be out soon enough.

"Hey Stace what’s the matter with you, ya deaf? I’ve been yellin’ and honkin’ for five minutes." Great! Rebecca Marie, now I don’t have to walk. Yeah great, think fast genius; explain the bruised jaw and fat lip. Can’t you find someone else to harass?

"Sorry Bec, I was out there for a minute, you know thinking."

"My God, Stace! What happened to your face?" Long, slender fingers reached out to gently caress my injured jaw. I flinched away from an ingrained reflex action, then leaned into the gentle, loving touch. Little did she know her touch did more to heal my battered spirit as it did for the bruise. "You and your old man got into it again, huh?"

"When don’t we. It seems all we do is argue and fight. Nothing I do seems to be good enough for him."

"He did this, he hit you again didn’t he. That son of a bitch! Look we’ll tell my dad, he’ll clean his clock for him. All you have to do is say something and he’ll take care of it for you." Bec’s dad is the town Sheriff.

"No, that won’t do any good, I’ve been down that road before. They put him in detox for awhile before we came here. He was okay for a little bit, but then things went back to the way they were only worse. Then, when I cold cocked him with the whiskey bottle, he backed off some. Don’t worry, please. I’ll handle this in my own way. ‘Sides he just got in a lucky punch; caught me when I wasn’t lookin’. Anyway, he keeps me around to clean up the place and cook for him. If I get laid up, he’d have to do his own cooking and cleaning, God forbid. This thing go any faster?" Becca if you believe that, I got some swampland in Arizona I’ll sell ya! You don’t have any land swamp or otherwise, so butt out!

"Yeah, you’re right, we better hurry up so we don’t have to listen to Sis Liz go on about the virtues of coming on time. My God! Now there’s a visual!" All I can do is shake my head and groan. She’s funny, really funny. Have I mentioned I like her better than any of you other friends?

One thing about Beck, she can always make me feel better when I’m down, which seems to be quite frequently lately. Beck’s the kind of person who, jealous rumors to the contrary, will always stand by a friend to hell and back. She’s not the spoiled little rich kid everyone thinks she is. She has for me anyway, for the last seven years, and I wonder why sometimes. We pulled into the St. Anthony’s Senior High School parking lot reserved for seniors. Yep, seven years; the three years at St. Francis Middle School and four here. She’s a good friend; more than a friend a soulmate. Did I mention the word loss?

Chapter 2: Bannock, California June 1962

It took nearly seven years for Bannock to finally feel like home. We moved here so Dad could take a desk job because of his back. That lasted six months before he told the manager, who was a jackass, what he could do with his job, and he was promptly demoted to the nether lands as warehouse foreman. Actually, he was better suited to do that anyway. Needless to say, I was about as thrilled at moving here as catching the plague. Suffice to say moving wasn’t number one on my list of things to get done. Dad decided, without discussion I might add, to send me to Catholic school. He said Catholic School would build character, discipline, and the nuns would teach me some responsibility. All those things certainly wouldn’t kill me. Yeah right, what did he know, he’d never been to Catholic school.

I didn’t know anyone, and what’s more, I didn’t want to know anyone. To say I had an attitude would be something of an understatement. One of the first people I met, much to my father’s chagrin, and mine, was Sheriff Charles Bryan Russell Danforth. His nickname, I was to soon learn, was "Harley" for obvious reasons. The one thing he took pride in more than anything else, other than his daughter, was his antique, Harley Davidson. I had the misfortune to put a minor dent and a little scratch in it when my baseball hit it. A simple accident, compounded in severity by trying to lie and squirm my way out of it. Woulda worked too if someone hadn’t seen me do it. Enter one Rebecca Marie Lindsey Danforth, soon to be a major player in my life. To make a long story short, my dad and the Sheriff had a conversation, while I stood there about to wet my pants. Rebecca Marie stood there with a shit-eating grin I wanted to slap right off her face. The result of the conversation was the repair of the Harley would come out of my allowance, I was grounded for a month, and when I got home, I got a helluva beating from my old man. This led to the chasm between my dad and me widen, and the best friend I would ever have come into my life, and I’ll give you a clue, it wasn’t Harley. I must say, this wasn’t the most auspicious beginning to my twelfth year of life on this planet.

The next day, after I did my chores, I went to the Sheriff’s Office to begin making reparations to the prize Harley. My attitude was even more firmly entrenched, thanks in large part to my sore butt, sore ribs, and back. Dad wasn’t stupid; he never hit me where it would show to the good citizens; he always made sure his outward appearance was one of a concerned and caring parent, uuh huh. If I knew I was going to get in this much trouble, and I knew I would, I’d have blown that dam bike to hell. But, Sheriff Danforth was a good guy. I’d have seen that too, if my anger hadn’t been clouding my vision. He was actually a likable guy and was making it really hard to be angry with him, which in my warped view of life caused me to want to dislike him more. Looking back I can see I was angrier with my dad than angry at Harley. There was quite a bit of jealousy added to the mix because of the relationship he and Rebecca Marie had. I wondered why I couldn’t have that kind of a relationship with my dad. Probably cause Becca’s dad wasn’t a child-beating alcoholic. For once I agree with you. My God, we agree? Mark this down!

"Stacey, I’m glad you’re here on time, I think we need to have a little talk about what happened. I just want you to know there are no hard feelings; I was a kid once too." Hey this guy sounds cool; might be wise to listen up, huh? Great just what I needed an understanding cop!

"Whatever. I’m just here to pay for your motorcycle; now let’s get it done and I’ll be outta your hair." I was trying really hard to sound tough, although I’m sure I was failing miserably.

"You know, I’m not your enemy. I know what it’s like to be a new kid in town and pretty much on your own." This guy was hitting way too close to home; that made me nervous. I learned early on when an adult wanted to be your friend; there was usually some ulterior motive. I was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Hey daddy, sorry I’m late. I got tied up at home helping mom." Pay attention dummy; hey, she’s kinda cute. Put your eyes back in your head ya pervert. Listen! There was a loud thud pounding in my ear. Don’t look now, but I think the shoe had dropped.

"Don’t worry about it hon, Stacey and I were just getting to know each other a little. Stacey McGregor, I want you to meet my daughter Rebecca Marie."

"Good to meet you Stacey, and it’s Becca. My friends aren’t nearly as formal as my parents."

"Yeah, I know how parents can be, and my friends, what friends, call me Stace." Becca’s dad was watching our exchange in rapt fascination.

"Okay, Becca, I was hoping you could show Stace around town, and maybe direct her to the softball field to play; introduce her to the other kids, maybe even get her on the team. What do you say Stace, might keep my Harley in tact." Figures; that’s all he really cares about, his damn motorcycle.

"Look, I don’t need anybody showin’ me around; ‘sides I already know where the ball field is; I saw it on my way here. My eyes shifted to Becca, and for some reason I found myself softening some. "Anyway, I don’t want to tie you up, you’ve probably got other friends to hang with." Did I tell you about my little voice? I hate it when it butts in! As I tried to tell myself otherwise, my little voice kept prodding and I began hoping, in spite of myself, Becca would want to hang out with me. I think at that point in my life I needed a friend more than anything else in the world.

"No, not at all; I’d like to show you around; come on let’s go. See you later daddy, oh mom said she’d bring your lunch down later."

"Bye sweet cheeks, have fun. See you later Stace."

We walked out of the Sheriff’s Office, and turned down the next street to the ballpark. I couldn’t help but stare at Becca. She was everything I wasn’t, tall and slender with long legs; I wasn’t exactly fat, but I was short with stubby legs. Her dark black hair was long and thick; mine was short and light brown. The most striking thing about her was her deep blue shining eyes. While my eyes were blue, hers made mine pale in comparison. It wouldn’t take much imagination to figure that in a few years she’d be beating guys off with a stick. Me, I’d probably have to tie them down to get them to notice me. Little did I know then just how wrong I was.

"So you lived here all your life?" Your conversational skills so need improving! Shut up; who asked you? I don’t see you doing any better!

"Actually, we moved here when I was six months old. My dad brought us to Bannock after he got out of the Marines. He was drill a sergeant and an expert in martial arts. You know hand-to-hand fighting and all that. He was, is really good. He's been teaching me some moves for self defense."

Terrific! This is all I need a cop with lethal killing skills and an Amazon daughter in training. Hey, lighten up. You never know; it could be fun. I just can’t catch a break.

"You know dad has a class for women, teaching self defense. Nothing in depth, he teaches just enough to protect yourself. I’m sure he’d be glad to have you in his class. We could go together; if you’d like."

"I don’t know, I’d have to check with my dad. We don’t have a lot of extra money."

Sure, like that matters. He wouldn’t want me to be able to defend myself from him.

"Oh don’t worry about money; the classes are free of charge. It’s just something my dad likes to do. His mom was attacked when he was a young boy, and there was nothing he could do, and he decided then if he was ever able to, he’d make sure that never happened again."

"Yeah well, I’ll still have to talk to my dad; so I can’t make any promises." Come on! Don’t give me that! You like living dangerously; besides, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt you! Oh yeah, you can be brave. Little voices don’t get to feel the old man’s boot on your butt. Oh hell.

"Becca, when does your dad give these lessons?"

"Every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday from 6:00-7:00. Will you come; at least once to see if you might like it?" There, you see. You’re old man never gets home before 8:00; he’ll never know.

"Yeah sure, why not?" Why not indeed!

Over the years, I’ve often wondered what would have happened to me, how different my life would have turned out had it not been for the day I met Rebecca Marie Lindsey Danforth.

Chapter 3: Benchmarks

There are times in people’s lives we look to as benchmarks; events we build memories upon; rites of passage if you will. You know, births, baptisms, first birthdays, sixteenth birthday, weddings, funerals, high school and college graduation; well you get the point. I was about to reach one of those benchmarks, my high school graduation. Frankly, I wasn’t looking forward to it as enthusiastically as the rest of my classmates. For most of them they were about to embark on what would be the beginning of a successful life. Many were going on to college, others were going to work, and still others planned on getting married. Becca my best friend, my lifelong pal, my harbor in rough seas was going to Presnell, a prestigious private school on an art scholarship. I had applied to Presnell as well, and my grades were good enough, but there was the question, big question of money.

"Presnell, hah don’t make me laugh. Kinda getting high and mighty aren’t ya? What makes you think you can get into a school like that; it’s just for rich snobs; you should know that. Weston’s more your speed, if you can even if you could get in there. That rich bitch been puttin’ ideas in your head again."

"At least I’ve got an idea that isn’t scrambled by booze, and I told you don’t refer to Becca as the rich bitch; she’s my friend; she hasn’t put ideas into my head. I can think quite well on my own thank you very much. And furthermore, just because you couldn’t make it out of the warehouse, don’t think I’m going to let you and your small hateful ideas hold me back. I refuse to give up my dreams. Just because you’re a failure doesn’t mean I will be, and that’s what really bothers you isn’t it? You’re afraid I’ll make a success of my life and you didn’t." You know you screwed up big time, don’t you?

If I hadn’t been so pissed, I’d have seen the fist crashing into my face, but I didn’t, nor could I do anything about the boot impacting my ribcage. The beating continued, when will I learn to keep my mouth shut, but thankfully I passed out and didn’t feel most of it. I awoke with an annoying light flashing in my eyes, and hands moving in front of my face. In reflex, I brought my arms up to my face and tried to push the offending hands away, bad idea. My whole body hurt. There wasn’t one square centimeter that didn’t ache. I figured I must be dead because I heard the voice of an angel.

Wait you are not dead; I don’t think they have angels where you’re going. Just remember, little voice where I go you go, so shut up!

"Stace, baby it’s okay you’re safe now. No one will hurt you ever again, I promise. Please try to relax. You’re in the hospital." Becca’s gentle hands tried to hold me to keep me from hurting myself further, but instinct took hold and I swung out blindly with my fists. My hand impacted with what felt like a jaw, so I struck out again and again screaming.

"Please make it stop, please stop the pain. Don’t hit me anymore, please…" The next thing I heard were loud, angry voices yelling for restraints. "C’mon we’ve got to sedate her before she tears this place up and hurts herself or someone else. Nurse I want 2cc morphine administered IV stat. Move!"

"No wait let me try again. I know I can reach her; please let me try." That’s our Becca she’s nothing if she isn’t persistent. I’d watch out Doc, if you’re not careful you could find that syringe shoved up your ass. Now listen up dummy, this is our Becca, not your old man, keep your hands to yourself. Wouldn’t you know it would be my little voice penetrating my drug and pain induced fog? God, I hate that. Yeah, ya owe me big time, and don’t think I’ll soon let you forget it either. "Becca…"

"Oh thank God, yes baby, shh, it’s okay. Don’t try to talk; they have a tube in your mouth and down your throat. Try to understand, you’re safe; he can’t hurt you again. Daddy stopped him; baby I’ve got you. Just open your eyes and look at me, please baby." Finally I opened my eyes, and I saw the most beautiful sight I could imagine, my angel, my Becca. I tried to talk and all I got was pain for my trouble. Weren’t you paying attention fool? She told you not to talk; ya got a tube stuck down your throat! Understand?

"Shh, don’t try to talk; your dad hit you; that bastard hurt you baby, but you’ll be okay, and he can never hurt you again. Daddy took care of him, and he’s in jail, sporting a few bruises himself and a broken nose and jaw. He deserved worse; that son of a bitch." I needed to talk dammit, but couldn’t. I felt so frustrated. Have her give you a pen and paper to write with, ya think? I’m never going to hear the end of this, am I? Ya got that right! I pointed toward the table, beside the bed, where I saw a tablet and pencil. Becca’s eyes followed my gaze. "Sure honey, why didn’t I think of that. Here, write down what you want to ask." Ha! See; nobody appreciates me until the chips are down. Neither one of you would have thought of that without me. Oh brother, this I don’t need.

With a shaky hand I wrote:

Your dad’s okay? I don’t want to get him in any trouble because of me.

I guess I’ll miss graduation. Too bad I won’t be able to give that

Valedictorian Address. I was really looking forward to it. Not!

I handed the tablet to Becca and watched her face, if for no other reason except that I liked looking at her, but in this case I was looking for her reaction. I had been trying to weasel out of giving that dam speech. As I should have known, the gods weren’t with me in this either. Told ya!

My angel’s low, contralto voice and soft laugh soothed my aching heart and soul. "My daddy can handle himself, and he promised it’ll be a long time comin’ before Arlan McGregor sees the outside of a jail cell. Mom and Dad are right outside; they’d like to see you when you’re up to it." I nodded slowly; still not sure I would ever feel safe again. "…and don’t worry about missing graduation. Sis Liz said graduation will be pushed back until you’re better. Everyone is really proud of you; they love you and want you to be there. So just you get better. Okay?" I nodded my head weakly and groaned. My baby was next to me and responded instantly. "Baby are you okay? Are to in pain? Do you need anything?" I shook my head, and slowly closed my eyes. Just you my love, just you. Slowly I opened my eyes again afraid to find my angel gone. I tried to write on my pad again:

Bec, you won’t leave, please? "No baby, I won’t leave, ever. I’ll be here when you wake up, promise." Bec will you lay down with me? "Honey, I don’t know—the tubes…" Please? I don’t know if it was the pleading, haunted look in my eyes, or one of my many other charms, but my baby crawled up onto the bed and made room next to me amongst the myriad array of tubes and bags coming from virtually every portion of my anatomy. She enclosed me in her long strong arms and I laid my head on her shoulder and rested my fiberglass-encased arm across her belly. For the first time, perhaps in my entire life, I slept peacefully; I felt safe; I felt like I was home at last.

I wasn’t sure, but I think I can honestly say, even considering the bull who plowed over me when I was six, I have never hurt in so many places before in my life. The docs say I had a concussion, broken ribs, ruptured spleen, and various other sundry cuts and bruises. No wonder I hurt and spent the better part of a week unconscious. When I did wake up, the first thing I was aware of was the slight pressure of something next to my right side in the bed. I focused a little more and realized my angel was lying next to me, her right arm across my stomach, and her head resting on my shoulder. She looked so at peace, as though she belonged there and everything was right in her world. It was then I made up my mind, I wanted and needed my angel always in my life. Without her, there could be no joy, no reason for living; she was my life.

Chapter 4: Total Truth

Whenever I want to get away, I’d go to a hill overlooking the sea, where there’s a beautiful wide, white sandy beach that runs for miles. Over reasons I’ve never truly understood, hardly anyone ever goes there. Guess there are few romantics left in the world, or people don’t have a need for the peace and solitude. Maybe my anti-social tendencies have something to do with this need I have. Anyway, the night before graduation, both Becca and I found ourselves sitting side by side on the hill watching the sunset, with me lost in my own thoughts.

"Stacey Lynn McGregor sometimes I think I might as well talk to a wall or a post or old man Bartlet down on liars bench I’d get as much response from them as I get from you!"

"Sorry, I zoned out again didn’t I? I was thinking about the best day of my life actually."

"Aaah, I see, and what day was that may I ask?" Whoa, jump back. But I gotcha now darlin’. You should know better than to try to pull the attitude on me. Now you’ll be begging me for forgiveness. This is very cruel ya know! Shut up, again.

"Certainly, if you squelch the ‘tude! If you must know, the best day of my life was the day I met you," I replied in the best superior, condescending tone I could muster. You’re gonna be so sorry you did this. Yadda, yadda, yadda.

"Oh yeah, uh that day, sorry I sounded so bitchy I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I’d never intentionally do that." My baby exploded in tears, her tall, slender frame convulsing in her wracking sobs. Told ya so. I had no idea she would react this way. What do I do now? God sometimes I can be such an insensitive jerk. You’ll get no argument from me on that score. But don’t tell me; tell her. I haven’t a clue what caused that? PMS? No, jerk!

Having never been really good at sensitive chats, I operated strictly on instinct. Slowly, so as to gauge her reaction I drew my angel into my arms, kissed the top of her head tenderly, while I ran my hand in circles over her back, and softly whispered. "Oh honey, I know you’d never hurt me; you’ve been the only person who’s stuck by me through all the bull shit. I really have been zoning out more. I don’t mean to shut you out or ignore you, but I’ve got a lot on my mind what with being hurt, dad in jail, and graduation and all. You know what a control freak I am, and I hate this being up in the air not knowing what college I’ll be going to and the money situation. If I don’t get that scholarship, I’ll have to go to Weston Junior College after all; it’s all I can afford. Shoot, who am I kidding, I can’t go to college! I need to find a job just to support myself. But all that aside, there will never, ever be a reason to excuse by behavior toward you. I’m so sorry, please forgive me?" That’s good, when all else fails, grovel. Slowly, by baby withdrew from our embrace, and delicately wiped the tears from her cheeks. "You okay? Are we okay?"

Becca nodded before she spoke. "Yes, I know you’re worried and upset, and you’ve been through so much. I forgive you. I guess my nerves are a little raw right now. I mean when you were in the hospital and you were so…and I thought you might…" Her tears began to fall again and it dam near tore the heart right out of my chest. I brought her close again and whispered, "Shh, don’t cry, please don’t cry. I’m fine, really, and I had no intention of leaving you. Don’t you know you’re the reason I got better? I could never leave you." My angel looked deeply into my eyes, "Really? For me?" I nodded hesitantly, "Yeah, really." I grabbed a Kleenex from my jacket pocket. "Here dry your eyes and blow your nose." Becca looked a little unsure. "Go ahead, don’t worry, it’s clean."

"Thanks baby, but listen, try not to worry, with your grades, you’ll be a shoe in to get into Presnell. They’d be fools not to let you in. Besides the Gifted Scholarship, you’re up for the Athletic Scholarship. Presnell’s softball team will be nowhere without you. And if worse comes to worse, you know my folks will help you out." Oh oh, don’t think that was a good thing to suggest there, Bec! One, two, three…boom!

I leapt to my feet; a really, really asinine move with sore ribs. Once my breath returned and my heart moved back to my chest, from where it was lodged in my throat, I began to pace back and forth. Becca was watching me intently. "Damn it all Becca, can’t you understand I will not take any money from your folks. That’s in the first place, and in the second place, I’m responsible for myself now. I have no choice but to do this on my own." Pigheaded idiot!

Now Becca was on her feet, and I lost the temporary advantage of looking down on her. She can be damn intimidating when she wants, towering over us mere mortals. "If you weren’t so think headed, you’d know that we don’t think of you as a responsibility, my folks think of you as a daughter." You go girl!

Damage control needed. "Well I guess I could try to look at things from their side, but you’ve always had anything you wanted. It’s hard for you to understand what it’s like to have to get by without stuff. I’m not feeling sorry for myself; I’m just stating facts. It’s the way things are; you know reality. I don’t begrudge you your family, honestly, but…oh hell." I’ve never been able to express my feelings well. Ask me anything about Ancient history, Calculus, Science, Chemistry, or English Literature, and I can go on an on. My baby, sensing my insecurity knew just the right things to say and do. "What am I supposed to do?" My back was to Becca now and I whispered so softly that had it not been for my baby’s keen hearing, she’d never have known I’d spoken. Instantly, I felt warm, strong arms wrap around my waist and I leaned back against her chest feeling her soft, and generous breasts melting into my back.

With her chin resting on the top of my head, I felt more than heard, the gentle vibration of her deep sexy voice cover me like a warm blanket. "Stace, baby I do understand, but please don’t let that stuff come between us, you’ve always been my best friend, but more than that. I was never so scared in my life as when you were in the hospital. I was so afraid you’d----. Anyway, I realized then we’re more than friends; it’s like you’re a part of me, and I hope you feel I’m a part of you too, like we’re, I don’t know, soulmates. I love you so much; I need you in my life. But please believe me; I’ve never felt ashamed to be with you, you know that don’t you?" I didn’t know how to react. As first I thought I was hearing things; I was dumbfounded! Could this really be true, did my angel feel about me the way I felt for her? Well if that’s the case, then… All right, now is the time for total truth. I can’t keep this inside any longer. Wait a minute fool; you are certainly no poet; you’re libel to put your foot in your mouth so far it will have to be surgically removed! Remember the word loss? Get off my back; I am thinking about loss, that’s why it’s time to put up or shut up. Did I tell you I hated little voices?

I opened my mouth to speak, but try as I might; I couldn’t get the words out of my mouth. Must be genetic. Take off, now is not the time. Finally, "Ar—are you saying what I think you’re saying?" Oh that’s good; weren’t you listening to a word she said? "Yyyou love me, like "in love" with me?" A slight nod. "I’ll be damned. I never thought it was possible. Well no, I –I mean I know it’s pos--- possible for two women, you know to…" You silver tongued devil. I could sure use some help here. Oh sure, now you want my help. All right, but it’ll cost you. Don’t I know it. Look just say what’s in your heart. Be honest; ya can’t go wrong. "I know it seems so strange, weird really, but I do know how you feel, truly I do. You are such a part of me. I can scarcely take a breath without thinking about you, wanting you, touching you, and loving you. I’ve wanted you for so long, but I was afraid to say anything for fear of losing you altogether. I thought you would be repulsed by---well two women loving each other—being Catholic and all---oh shit!" I don’t know which was pounding louder, the waves on the beach or the heart inside my chest. I was sure it would rocket out of my chest at any moment. Time seemed to all but stop; although I know it wasn’t but a few seconds, but the silence went on forever, and finally my angel spoke.

"I don’t remember Jesus being a Catholic; he was a Jew. Besides he taught love, forgiveness, and tolerance. He’s the God I pray to. If I’m going to go to hell for loving someone, then so be it. I can’t believe I’ll be punished for loving someone, and I do love you, and I want you to touch me too. But I’ve never been with anyone—I mean—I’m still. Damn, I don’t know how to please you. Teach me please." Oh like she knows!

I’ve never seen anyone so honest, open, and vulnerable all at the same time. I didn’t have any sexual experience either, so I acted on pure instinct. I took my angel into my arms and tucked her head under my chin. I buried my face into her sweet smelling hair and kissed her gently. I hoped my actions would say what I had no words to express. We just held onto each other for a few quiet moments, listening to the sea birds and the waves crashing on the shore. The sun was just beginning to disappear below the horizon. The red, pink, and gold colors blended together to create a picture no artist could duplicate. At that moment, I knew there had never been a time in my life when I was more at peace and more contented than I was at this moment, holding my angel. Finally, after a few minutes I felt the need to reassure her verbally. "I’m sure I don’t deserve you; you are everything I’m not. You have a good heart, open to everyone. I’m a cynic and suspicious by nature. I’m moody and brooding. But since you came into my life, you’ve taught me to keep trying and never give up. And so that’s what I’ll do; I’ll never stop trying to please you; I’ll love you with all my heart and soul; and I’ll never give you up. I’ve never been with anyone either, so I guess we’ll just have to teach each other how to love. All I know is I want to do this right; the gift we give each other is so very precious; I think we should take it slow and be sure this is really what we both want."

That was smooth. God I can’t believe I said that! Ditto! Shut up!

"I understand, Stace. I love you so much, and you are right. You are so very precious to me and I will never take you or our love for granted. I know we will be together forever."

"Becca, my angel, if we never make love, I will still be farther ahead than anyone else in the world because I will always know I have been loved so very well and so very much."

Whoo you’re getting better. You like that huh? So did I; even if I do say so myself. This love stuff ain’t so tough. Hey don’t get too cocky.

Chapter 5: Graduation 1969

Well there you are; just goes to show if you keep plugging away sooner or later things are bound to turn out for the better. Where did you come up with those pearls of wisdom?

I’m about to make a fool of myself by making a ridiculous speech in front of five thousand people, and Becca wants to tell her folks about us. You remember her dad, the cop, ex marine with the lethal killing skills. Oh yeah, things are sure turning out for the better. I think I’m going to be sick. I was sitting in the coaches’ office, contemplating, when Becca found me.

"Hey baby shouldn’t you be getting ready; we have to be at the stadium by 5:30?" If there is anything I have learned in my relatively short life, if there’s something you don’t want to do and you want to get out of it, there is no better way to go about it successfully than by acting like a pouting child. So with that in mind, I said petulantly, "I’m not going." There needs to be at least one adult in every relationship, and thankfully, Becca filled that role wonderfully.

"Excuse me? What do you mean you aren’t going? You have to go; you are the Valedictorian. I’m sure there’s an unwritten rule somewhere that says you can’t have a graduation without the Valedictorian. You have to go, that’s all there is to it." My head was beginning to throb and my guts felt like they were exploding. I could feel a huge fight in the making. I didn’t want to hurt my baby’s feelings, but the last thing I wanted to do was go give that speech. Since pouting and the petulant child act didn’t work, I’ll try reason. There’s a misnomer: Stacey and reason. Did I ask you?

"Well it’s time to start a new tradition: a "Valedictorianless Graduation". I’m sure if you took a poll of all the Valedictorians in the world; there would be unanimous agreement. And what makes you think you can order me around and dictate where and when I go anyway?" I could think of a number of scenarios, but Becca doubling over in hysterics wasn’t one of them. "C’mon get control of yourself, I don’t think there’s anything funny about my idea," I pouted profusely; my dour expression belied the inner turmoil going on inside, at the thought of putting myself on display.

"You’re kidding right? That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Okay, what’s really bothering you? What happened to the tough, strong minded Stacey Lynn McGregor I know and love?" With that said, Becca moved toward me where I was sitting in the coaches’ chair and sat down in my lap. I really liked that chair; wonder whatever happened to it? After you two were done with it, it was probably retired. Oh, hardy har har, very funny.

Trying to maintain some sort of control, in such close proximity to this sexy, desirable woman, and failing miserably, I choked out hoarsely, "She’s not here, left town with the Fuller Brush Man." I felt soft lips moving near my ear, licking and nibbling gently. Then I heard her low sexy voice resonating in my ear. "Really? We don’t have a Fuller Brush Man around here anymore. You’ll have to do better than that." Oh God, not the tongue, I love tongue. Did I mention it was really warm in coach’s office? Becca’s lips moved from my ear over my throat to the pulse point on my neck, which she promptly began to feast upon. Control, I had to get control. I know; I’ll simply reassert my authority. Now there’s a hot one, authority indeed, not. Bet me? Just hide and watch. Watch, oh goody.

"It doesn’t matter what you do to me, I’m still not going." So there, see huh huh? That’s it? That’s your idea of authority; you are so whipped.

Now warm, soft lips were devouring every patch of bare skin they could reach. Each kiss and touch were placed for optimum effect, and I was slowly loosing my will to resist. And when Becca’s lips touched mine, I was gone. The delicious pleasure coursing through my body was very nearly my undoing. The kiss was gentle at first, but as the moments multiplied, so did the passion of the kiss. My lover’s lips, did I say lover; yes you did, were soft and sweet. She nibbled gently on my lower lip, her tongue gliding over its inner surface, and when her tongue begged for entry into my mouth, I was gone. With just one kiss, all the walls I so carefully constructed around my heart crumbled into so much dust. In that one moment, I found my home, my refuge. Our tongues met with such love and passion, I thought I would die from the sheer intensity of it. My baby’s tongue explored every surface of my warm cave, as did mine hers. The kiss seemed to go on for an eternity, and I never wanted to break away. But for the sake of both of us needing air, we separated breathlessly. We looked into each other’s eyes, both lost in the limpid pools of blue. Yup, I’m whipped; this is so cool. Good, at least you admit it.

Eventually, my love befuddled brain registered my love’s whisper, "So—kiss—do I get to have--kiss my soul mate—kiss—join me for our—kiss—graduation—kiss—please?" Huge sigh, "Oh yeah. When—kiss—do we—kiss—have to be—kiss—there?" We stopped kissing and leaned forward until our foreheads touched, just enjoying the moment. Neither one of us spoke; at this point, words were superfluous. But if I were to try to explain the feeling, I’d say safe, yeah safe. You know like how a sailor would feel. What are you babbling about? You know safe harbor. If I were a sailor, which I’m not, shrewd observation, I think I understand what the term safe harbor means: calm, peaceful, no rough water. That’s how it feels to be in my angel’s arms, no one or nothing can harm me. I can face anyone and anything. I maybe only eighteen years old, but I’ve seen enough pain and anger to last me a lifetime. For the first time in my life, I know what it feels like to be taken care of, to be safe, and it doesn’t mean I’m weak. I know something else; I like it. This is just great; you were a pain before, but now you’re in love, I don’t know how I’ll cope with that. Well, you’ll just have to deal with it or get lost. Remember the word loss?

"Hey why are we still sitting around here? C’mon, we gotta get a move on. I don’t know about you, but I plan on graduating tonight." I tried unsuccessfully to get Becca to move from her warm nest. "Wait, may I have one more kiss first?" Be strong McGregor, you have to take control, be firm. "I think that can be arranged; if you ask nice." Yup, you’re toast.

"Kiss me, Stace please?" I reached up and wrapped my arms around my love’s neck, drawing her head toward my waiting lips. For just an instant, I paused wanting the moment to be right, and then softly, delicately our lips met and joined. Oh how I love my angel’s sweet lips; they’re so soft and warm. I put all the feelings I could in that kiss. Ever so cautiously, I opened my mouth and brushed her lips with my tongue begging her to let me inside. Without hesitation her lips opened to me enticing my tongue inside her warm, soft mouth with a low whimper. Our tongues began an age-old dance of intimacy. Without warning, Becca began to nibble and suck my lower lip into her mouth. She ran her tongue all around the inside of my mouth. Her hands began to move down over my body and gradually slipped up under my shirt. Her long slender fingers found their way up and under my bra and lightly ran over my now rock hard nipples. I could feel the moisture growing between my legs. Moisture hell, I was dripping. God I wanted her so much. I could no more stop the moan escape deep from my throat than I could stop the sun from rising or setting. I decided it was my turn to explore. I covered her jaw and her throat with tender bites, licks, and kisses. I worked my way down to the swell of her delicious breasts, licking and sucking the wonderfully salty tasting skin. Carefully, with shaking fingers I began unbuttoning her shirt. After what seemed like an eternity her shirt and bra were history, and my hands were filled with her generous, luscious mounds. I was about to suckle what I had only dreamed about for so long. I had no idea her skin could taste this delectable. I was on overload; my senses were reeling and there was nothing I could do to stop this feeling, nor did I want to. With strength I didn’t know I had, I pushed my baby up onto the top of the desk. Loose papers, pens, and file holders became airborne and crashed to the floor in a deafening clatter. My trembling fingers tried futilely to unfasten my lover’s button-down Levi’s and spread her legs apart at the same time. I wanted to taste my lady’s succulent, sweet smelling ambrosia. I wanted to drive my tongue deep inside my beloved’s hot, wet, sex. I was like a kid turned loose in a candy store, everything I saw, I wanted, and I didn’t know where to start. Becca’s hands weren’t idle either. She was running them frantically over my back and down to my ass. She too found the denim covering was annoying and literally began jerking and tearing them from my body. Once the offending fabric was loosened enough, Becca forced her hands down in between my jeans and my ass squeezing the firm globes and dragging my hips to hers until our nether lips fused fiercely. Savagely we began grinding our mons together, thrusting our hips in a frantic rhythm. God this was just too hot, too carnal. My juices were flowing; my heart was pounding. . "By the gods you feeeeelllll sooooo gooooddd!" My lips, tongue, and teeth were tantalizing my lover’s nipples.

"Oh God yes," my baby hissed. "Yes, suck me, suck my tits. Oh your mouth feels so good on me. Suck me, yeah." We were both so close to the edge of release, there was no stopping our climax.

Our lovemaking was so scalding hot; I was loosing total control over my all too lascivious libido. I knew very soon, we would be graduating, but not from high school, if you get my drift. Oh God, how I wanted her to take me. I was so close. I wanted my baby to come with me.

"Baby, baby, I’m soooo close. God you feel soooo gooodddd. I love you so much. Make me cum baby, I need to cum so bad." This wasn’t what I had in mind for our first time, but I was no way going to stop this now. I couldn’t if I wanted to. Since this was my first sexual experience, I had no idea what I was supposed to feel, but I knew this wasn’t making love, our acts were pure unadulterated lust.

"Oh yeah—so close—God—want you—so much. Can—smell—your—scent—all ‘round me. Ppplease—senses—on fire! Need you now! God Stace, I’m cummmiiiiinnnggg!!!" Becca’s hands were all over me, everywhere at once. Oh yeah, she feels so good, so hot. "Yes, yes, yes!!! Becca, baby!!" I screamed my lover’s name as I reached my climax. I couldn’t believe I could feel this way. It was so intense, so incredible. We clung to each other afraid to let go for fear of crumpling to the floor. I managed to sink back down into the chair dragging Becca with me. I had to find out if my baby was okay. "Sweetheart are you okay." She was deathly quiet for a minute, only the sounds of heavy breathing could be heard in the room. "You have no idea how very okay I am right at this moment. My God I love you so much." We continued to hold each other basking in the afterglow of our first time together; our first time. "I’ve fantasized about the first time we would make love together, but nothing prepared me for this; rolling around in the coaches’ office like a couple of rabid beavers." I don’t know how I expected my angel to react, but grabbing her sides, laughing hysterically wasn’t even on the list at all. "Baby, are you okay?" Slowly the laughter died away until my angel had control of herself again.

"Rabid beavers? My God. Oh yeah, now there’s a picture; I wonder how they do it?" My downcast expression stopped her laughter. "I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you, or us; what we just did was wonderful, and I love you so very much." My baby kissed my forehead tenderly. "I guess our kiss got kind of outta control there didn’t it? You’re right, I had imagined I would wine and dine you, seduce you properly, and show you how thankful I am that you are sharing your love with me." The look of utter disappointment showed on my face. "Hey my darling, don’t worry, we can still do that." Now, it was my Becca’s turn to stare at the floor. I lifted her chin, and kissed her sweet lips. "Are you sorry we didn’t wait?" My lover quickly tried to reassure me. "No I’m certainly not sorry, and we can still wine and dine each other. I mean, technically we are still virgins." Becca’s eyebrow disappeared into her bangs and she smiled wickedly. "But for right now, we better hurry or we’ll be late. I suppose we better take a shower first. I don’t want to share your scent with anyone else." My scent, what about yours?

"Bec?" Gently, remember, gently.

"Yes love?"

"Separate showers."

"What’s the matter, don’t you trust me baby?" she purred. Becca was standing so close to me, we were practically standing in the same spot. She ran her finger up and down my arm provocatively. "Not one dam bit. Now hit the showers, a cold one I think." Becca turned away and sashayed her way toward the women’s locker room to shower. Almost at the door she stopped and turned toward me. "What about you? I think a cold shower would be appropriate for you too." Oh lord; salvage your pride girl. "Nope, not me, I’m immune." She turned on to the shower area, "Aaahh, we’ll see." Damn.

The sway of her delectable ass was almost my undoing. How I wanted to run my hands over those two round, firm, beautiful orbs, touching, tasting.... What the hell am I talking about? I sound like some hormonal teenager. You are a hormonal teenager. Just shut up; I don’t want to hear it. Oh dam, it’s pretty obvious whose going to have to exert all the control in this relationship. Whatever have I gotten myself into? It’s called love dummy. Yeah, love.

Chapter 6: The Marine

God, that still sounds lame. Thanks, you’ve always been a big help. I noticed you weren’t anywhere around with your sage advice while I was writing this thing. Now butt out, here come Becca and her folks.

I’m certainly no expert on parenting, sure never had a good example of my own, but it seems to me, if "the powers that be" were to make a model they couldn’t do any better than my angel’s parents. One thing I can say for Mr. and Mrs. Danforth, when it comes to their daughter, nothing is too much. Now don’t get me wrong, Becca isn’t spoiled, or a snobby rich kid, but anything she wanted or needed, her folks would move heaven and earth to get it for her. She was taught the value of a dollar and how to take care of her belongings. But more than that, she was taught to be loving and caring and respect people’s differences. What’s more, never once did they look down on me or didn’t think I was good enough be come around their place or be friends with their daughter. Oh one more thing. When it comes to standing up for Becca, Harley is hell on wheels; no pun intended. Which is why I’m more than a little nervous about telling them about Becca and me. Well prepare yourself girl.

"Oh Stace that was a wonderful speech; we’re so proud of you, right hon?" Remember what Becca told me, …just stay calm, breath deeply, and take their praise, it won’t kill you. "You bet Angie. Our kids are the two brightest and most attractive graduates in the place." Our kids, when did I get adopted. Wonder how this will affect my love life?

"Oh Dad, really." I love it when my angel blushes; it doesn’t happen very often.

"Thanks Sheriff Danforth, Mrs. Danforth. Personally, I thought the ending was a little lame." Not one word.

"Nonsense Stacey, everyone was very impressed with your speech, and besides, it never hurts to be reminded that we all need to love each other and help each other whenever we can."

"Hey, I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m hungry; let’s go get some of the banquet before it’s all gone."

"Dad, there’s no danger of running out of food; there’s enough to feed an army; yes even an army of Marines."

"Well, there’s no sense in taking any chances; always be ready for any contingency."

"Is that the Marine motto Sheriff?"

"No smartass, it’s my motto!"

What are you doing? Lethal killing skills remember? Not to worry; you can’t kill the Valedictorian on her graduation day; it’s in the rules. Something tells me he has his own rules. After all, he’s sure big enough. Big is right.

It wouldn’t take any genius to see from whom Becca gets her looks. Harley is one

big dude! He’s well over six feet tall and I’m sure he’s at least 220 if he weighs a

pound. Yes sir, at 32 years old, Charles Bryan Russell Danforth was one hell of a

specimen. His dark hair and those same blue eyes make Becca’s parentage pretty

obvious. Harley was a member of a motorcycle gang back in high school, then he

decided that would lead him to a no good end, so he tried to enlist in the Army to

fight the German’s, but he was too young. So he finished school and went to San

Diego State, where he met and married the Admiral Robert Anthony Pershing

Lindsey III’s daughter, Angelic Maria Lindsey. Much to the Admiral’s dismay I

might add. Evidently Admiral Lindsey had bigger and better things planned for

his daughter than to marry an ex-biker. But as luck would have it, Harley proved

himself to be quite a catch. In addition to earning good grades in police science,

he set all kinds of records for tackles at linebacker; he was good enough to get a

tryout with the Rams, but wasn’t good enough for pro ball, so he joined the Marines.

On October 20, 1950, he was shipped out to Korea, where he managed to get himself wounded in battle, earn the Purple Heart and Bronze Star for bravery, and was shipped

home early. When he got home, he found out he was gonna be a daddy. Rebecca Marie Lindsey Danforth was born on July 12, 1951. Any reservations the good admiral had evaporated with just one look at his beautiful little granddaughter. She has that affect

on everyone she meets. People tend to end up in little puddles from just one look. Any-

way after Harley returned from Korea, they stayed in San Diego until Becca was born,

then he collected his new family and brought them here to Bannock, where he’s been

Sheriff ever since.

So there you have it; this was the man I had to convince to allow me to take his daughter as my wife and lover. Did I say wife? Yeah ya did; good luck sister! Oh God.

Chapter 7: Put Up, or Shut Up

After all the festivities were finally over, congratulations and such, graduates and families headed to either their respective homes or elsewhere for more festivities. I for one didn’t relish the thought of going home alone. With dad still in jail, the house would at least be safe, but there were too many bad memories there, too much pain that I wasn’t ready to deal with, maybe I never would be. Still I’d have to clean my stuff out of there if and when I decided where I was going to go and what I was going to do with my life. Remember loss. I’ll forever mourn the loss of innocence, the loss of a childhood, which never was.

"Do you really think this is such a good idea. I mean your folks are just getting used to the notion that their little baby is growing up, leaving home to go to college, are you sure you want to lay this on them now. Granted this is the era of free love and all, but this might be overkill. After all, telling them you’re a lesbian and you have a lover could just upset the apple cart." Oh shit, I can’t believe I said that.

"Yes I do think it’s time. Listen, Stace. Sweetheart, we’re going away to college for four years…" I could sense the direction this conversation was taking. "Correction, you’re going to college for four years, I’m going to work!" We had been over this at least a hundred times in the last couple of days. I couldn’t understand the point of going over it yet again. But then I always seem to underestimate my lady when she’s on a roll. "God I hate being interrupted. We’re going to college for four years, and I’ll not leave here without you or without being honest with my parents. Besides, give them a little credit. It’s not like they’ve never considered the notion."

Somehow, somewhere, the conversation took a complete about face. "What do you mean considered the notion, have you said something to them about us? I mean…God. Great just great." I’ve never hyperventilated before, so I hadn’t a clue what the symptoms were, but I knew I was about to explode at least. Then the voice of reason sounded. Well I think… Not you! "Will you calm down. No I haven’t said anything to them; I should think you would know me better than that! But my parents aren’t stupid; I just have a feeling they suspect we’re more than simply friends. So, telling them may not be the big deal you think it will be. Cheer up, things could be worse."

I know my angel was trying very hard to reassure me; make me feel better, but why did I have this nagging feeling of impending doom. Because you’re so good at it that’s why; doom and gloom follow you like rats off a sinking ship. Oh thanks, that’s a pleasant analogy. Hey c’mon; it’s time to put up or shut up. If you love her as much as you claim, it’s time you show some backbone and fight to keep her if you have to. I know, it’s just I have so little to offer her; I’m nothing she’s got everything she could possibly want. Why would she want me? Stop the pity party; that’s your old man talking. Are you still going to let him run your life, even from jail? Obviously, there is something in you Becca seems to think is worthwhile, otherwise, why would she even bother trying to keep you on the straight and narrow? Yeah, that’s a good question. I’m not my dad; that’s good. Or at least it’s a place to start. There ya go, now go get your lady.

Well I didn’t plan on living forever. I decided at that moment, my little voice was right. "Baby, if you’re really sure you want me, let’s go tell your folks the good news." Why I ever doubted my angel is beyond me. "Of course I want you, things will work out, you’ll see."

As I look back on my life, I can remember only a handful of times when I was truly amazed. That’s cause you’re such a cynic; cynics are never amazed. Anyway, the night of my high school graduation was one of those times. I didn’t think it was possible for someone to be that angry without exploding, and believe me I saw my old man angry plenty of times. Hell hath no wrath like an ex marine on a rampage. I’ll never forget the sound of his deep, growling voice, trying desperately not to lose control. He reminded of an enraged grizzly trying to decide whether or not he was going to attack.

"Rebecca Marie Lindsey Danforth! How long has this been going on, my God les---lesbi…" If I hadn’t been frozen with fear, I’d have run like hell. But fortunately there was a voice of reason in our midst. Thank God for Mrs. Danforth.

"Lesbians dear, females who love each other are called lesbians, after the Greek Isle of Lesbos. Men who love each other are…" With simply a few softly spoken words, the atmosphere was becoming less strained. Sort of. The grizzly was still not totally tamed.

"Dammit woman, you don’t have to give me a lecture. I know what they are and what they do, but Angie, we’re talking about our little girl, she’s just a baby, not some stranger off the street. I don’t believe this is happening." Wonder if the stories are true. The ones that tell you to lie perfectly still when a bear is attacking and he’ll leave you alone.

"Calm yourself dear. Ranting and raving about this isn’t going to solve anything. I’m sure we can solve this reasonably…" Aahh yes the voice of reason; oh oh, spoke to soon. I had been covertly watching my angel to gauge her reaction, and it was obvious from which parent she got most of her genes. Mt. Vesuvius is about to blow!

"Stop it! Just stop this; stop talking about us as if we weren’t even here. And I am not a child; I’m an adult capable of making my own choices. Oh don’t look so shocked; you brought me up to think for myself to make decisions after careful consideration. Well, I have considered this carefully, and Stacey is whom I want to be with, forever. What happened to the parents who said they’d always love me no matter what? Where are the parents who said as long as I was happy that’s all that mattered, or do they exist only when things are going the way they want?"

Remind me never to get her pissed off at me. If you’d take off, you’d never have to worry about getting her pissed. I think you should be far more concerned about pissing me off. Goodbye! The little voice is right though, she’s something; I never noticed before how sexy my angel is when she’s angry. Dam! Umm Umm!

I didn’t think it was possible for a room to suddenly become as quiet as quickly as this one had. Everyone had stop talking, even breathing I think after my angel’s tirade. But she wasn’t finished quite yet. Her angry wrath was now, as were everyone’s eyes, turned to me.

"What?" Oh no! The water is about to boil over. "Are you just going to sit there like a lump; I could use some back up here." By the gods she’s one desirable, sexy, hot… "Are you even listening. Stace, Stacey!" Earth to idiot!

"Ummh? Oh yeah right, like she said. Look, Mr. and Mrs. Danforth. I know this isn’t exactly what you wanted for your daughter, how her life would turn out. But please believe me when I tell you, I would do anything in the world to make Becca happy, keep her safe, and make sure she has everything in this world she wants and needs. I love her more than my own life. Please don’t make us choose; you won’t like the choice. I guarantee that!"

Careful, careful! Alarm bells should be ringing. You are in imminent danger. Shut up!

A long life is overrated I’m sure. Harley would, at this point in time, agree totally. "Are you threatening me smartass?"

"No of course not." I’m not that stupid; how could you tell. " I’m just asking you to not make us live a lie. We’ll all be the losers in this if that happens." My courage just grew ten-fold when I felt my baby’s warm body press up against my back, and her arms wrap around my waist. Well in for a penny, in for a pound.

"Daddy, don’t you call her smartass, only I get to do that. Please, listen you know I love you. Try to understand. We don’t expect you to condone our lifestyle, but at least respect our right to make our own choices. Please."

"Harley?" Mrs. Danforth reached out and touched his arm gently causing him to stop for a moment and take a deep breath; I think we all took a collective deep, calming breath. Then she continued. "Do you want to run the risk of losing our baby. I believe they’re really serious here, and all you have to do is take a good look at them together; it’s obvious they’re truly in love with one another. And think about it; is that really such a bad thing? Remember how the Admiral felt about you when I brought you home?" I’ll bet there was quite a conversation ‘round the dinner table that night. You can be replaced y’know; old man Hanks is wanting to get rid of his jackass.

"Oh hell. I thought I might be in trouble the first day I saw you, and knew it for sure the day she was born. The first time I looked into your eyes I knew I’d never be able to say no to either one of you. C’mere, both of you; you too smart—I mean short stuff." Oh good a group hug. I’m beginning to wonder if she’s worth all this. Yeah like I could ever live without her. "Y’know short stuff doesn’t win any prizes with me either," I grumbled. "Tough, learn to live with it because you get my daughter, you get me too."

After we untangled ourselves from the family hug, I watched my angel and her folks. "Oh daddy, thank you; I love you, you know; Mom, you too." So that’s what a family looks like, it occurred to me that was something, up to this time in my life, I had never experienced, but something I soon would. I was brought out of my reverie by a strong, callused hand attached to an equally strong muscled arm around my neck pulling me into a massive chest. I looked up to see two steely blue eyes staring intently into mine. I held his gaze and tried to return it as intensely as I could.

"You’re not afraid of me are you?" I don’t know; let me check my pants, then I’ll tell you. "No sir, I’m not, but I respect you because of the way you treat your family. That’s important." Harley continued to study my face, and I tried not to flinch. I was actually pretty good at it. I had a lot of practice with my old man. "There is something you ought to know. So listen up Stacey Lynn McGregor, you ever hurt my little girl; hell will be a vacation resort compared to what you’ll experience with me. Got that?" I do believe he was deadly serious. "Yes, sir, I understand. Now you understand something. I’ve already been through hell, and living without Becca would be worse than hell." Suddenly the realization hit me like a brick that Becca and Mrs. Danforth were standing a few feet away as still as statues evidently waiting for Harley and I to come to blows. I started to move away when Harley stopped me.

"While we’re at it, one other thing; you best keep your grades up. I’ve always wanted a doctor in the family, besides that’d make the Admiral back up a bit, don’tcha think?" I really didn’t want to slap this guy, but I really thought he had a clue, evidently I was wrong, and I said so. "Obviously you’re under the mistaken idea money grows on trees. I’m not going to be able to go to Presnell. There’s been no word about the scholarships, and besides I need to get a job to support Becca. I can’t be thinking about something that will never be." The room got suddenly, deathly quiet again. I realized, albeit belatedly, that I may have made a slight miscalculation when I chose my words to explain my financial situation to the ex marine. Harley’s eyes were instantly black specks, and the arteries in his neck were bulging. I gotta give him credit though he was trying very hard not to kill me. But then again, maybe not. The ex marine was in full drill sergeant mode and I was nothing more than a raw recruit about to be dressed down. He was instantly in my face.

"Wait just a god damned friggin minute. If this is the kind of backbone you got, maybe I’ll just hafta rethink my decision about letting you take my little girl. You won’t ever achieve nothin’ worthwhile without a fight. What the hell’s the matter with you; you gonna quit before you even get started? I thought better of you than that, guess I was wrong." Well, if I were going down, I’d go down fighting. "Now you hold on! If it’s fight you want then that’s what you’ll get. I’ll fight to the death to keep Becca. I’ll work day and night if I have to, to give her what she wants and needs, but right now I have more important concerns than college!" Phew so far so good, I was still standing. But Harley was far from finished. "Really, and just what kind of work do you think you’ll get without a college degree these days? Tell me that smartass." He had a point there. God I hate that. "I don’t know, but I’ll find something! I promise, as God as my witness, I promise I’ll find something." Way to go Harley, you managed to take the wind right out of my sails. In all of about thirty seconds, I fell from a fantastic euphoria to the depths of despair. My deflated ego must have been apparent to everyone, but especially to my lover because in a heartbeat she was by my side holding me, and reassuring me that no matter what we’d work it out together. Even Harley felt duly chastised when Angie punched him square in the chest causing him to take a step back. "Damn you Harley." I would have felt sorry for Harley if I hadn’t been so busy feeling sorry for myself. "What’d I do that was so wrong; I was just trying to light a fire under the girl. Ah shit. Well, in the meantime, you might just as well take this. I think it will help you out while you search." When I didn’t take the envelope, Becca did. "You might as well at least open it. Please, for me?" I was certainly beginning to understand what Harley meant when he said he couldn’t say no to Becca. "What is it; you know I won’t take charity!"

My hands were shaking as I opened the letter. Whatever it was, it looked official. My experience with attorneys was never good. They only spelled trouble. Yeah, you should know about trouble. Don’t you have something to do? All right, I’m going. Sheech, nobody appreciates me. While I was fumbling with the letter, Becca and her mom were talking quietly.

"Becca, baby you’ve got a lot of work ahead of you that’s for sure." Angie was looking at me shaking her head, but my baby, always at my defense, spoke up. "I know mom, but you made it work with dad, and as much as they want to deny it, they are both a lot alike. I know in my heart, Stace and I will make it, forever." Angie evidently didn’t have any better success than Harley did when it came to disagreeing with Becca. "I know you will dear." Finally, I got the damn letter opened:

Dear Ms. McGregor,

I have sent this letter to Sheriff Danforth because my client wishes to keep their name and address confidential, and further, my client wants to make sure your father doesn’t interfere.

Enclosed you will find a check in the amount of $250,000.00. This amount has been bequeathed to you as stated in my client’s will.

In addition, there is a check in the amount of $150,000.00. These moneys come from a life insurance policy to which you were the sole beneficiary…

Well I’ll be damned; just call me Dr. McGregor. How ‘bout that!

Chapter 8: Moving Day August 30, 1969

I’ve never been one to spend a lot of time just gazing over panoramic vistas. I’m certainly not a naturalist. I guess, like so many, I tend to take the wonders of nature for granted. I assume like many it will always be here. I’m attracted to these isolated vistas just because there’s no one else around, works with my anti-social tendencies. Well, needless to say that all changed when my angel came into my life. I suppose it’s to be expected, when one marries an artist, a little appreciation for the aesthetics in one’s life begins to rub off. So it is with our house high on the hill overlooking the sea. I remember when we moved into this house, the chaos was all encompassing. Becca was like a field general directing the movers with expert precision. She handled those burley movers the way I handle a scalpel, effortlessly, knowing precisely where and when to make the exact, neat incision. She looked at the empty rooms of this house in much the same way she studies a blank canvas before she brings it to life in splashes of color, both dark and light, joining and mixing together to form a masterpiece. With that thought, my mind turns to another moving day, similar and yet so different.

"You know Becca, we only have so much room. I don’t think everything we have here is going to fit into a small two-bedroom apartment. Wait, let me rephrase that: a one bedroom-one art studio apartment." I should have known better than to question Angie. "Now Stacey dear, don’t be such a pessimist, you’ll be surprised how much room we’ll have once Rebecca and I are finished." I still wasn’t convinced and was determined to make one more attempt to express my uncertainty. "Yeah, but…" I never got the chance to finish my thought because a huge hand grasped my collar firmly and dragged me out the door.

"C’mon short stuff, let’s just keep out of their way; you can’t win this one, believe me I know from experience. Just resign yourself to the fact we’re here only to do the grunt work. Oh, one more thing, remember to respond correctly: yes dear, or no dear, whichever is appropriate at the time." I knew he was really just one big mushball. Now who’s whipped? I still didn’t like his nicknames for me and my baby knew it.

"Just great. Ya know, I don’t know which I hate worse, him calling me short stuff or smart ass." She always knows what to do to soothe the savage beast. "Don’t worry baby, it’s just his way of letting you know he likes you. He is an ex marine after all. It’s just his way." This is a good thing—how, and I wasn’t afraid to voice my doubts. "God help me if he ever gets to love me, he’ll probably use me for a tackling dummy."

I had no idea anyone could stuff as much junk in one small apartment as those two women did. I guess Angie had a lot of experience living in the small family living quarters they had while Harley was in the Marines. Between the two of them, Angie and Becca managed to stock all the essentials necessary to make this place a home for the next four years. God help us if we decided to add one more thing however. There might not be enough room for my little voice. Now there’s a thought. I heard that, so don’t even think about it; you’d be lost without me. Small loss, but a loss nonetheless. The one good thing about this place was it was within walking distance to any place on campus. It helped that Presnell was a small private college, but with excellent art and pre-med departments. So both of us were able to get our degrees of choice and not have to be separated, which would be unthinkable. Although I knew, we’d have very little time for ourselves because of our heavy study loads, and my commitment to the softball team. One very important thing was, at least we didn’t have to worry about jobs. What with my windfall from my mysterious benevolent benefactor’s estate, and the college fund Becca’s folks and grandparents (we’re never allowed to forget) set up for her, we could concentrate on our studies; among other things. Umph! Get your mind out of the gutter. Why? It’s fun; you’re just jealous. After mom and dad left, I was informed that henceforth I would refer to Harley and Angie as mom and dad, since I was now part of the family. Becca and I collapsed in a heap on the sofa in, check it out, our living room. We barely had enough energy to eat our pizza, stress barely.

"Are you as exhausted as I am? I had no idea we had this much stuff. Are you sure we need all this stuff?" It felt so good just to lie here snuggling with my baby. "In answer to your questions: yes and yes and stuffed. I can’t believe we ate all that pizza by ourselves. Now I’m ready for a nice warm bath and crawl into bed, early. What about you; can I interest you in sharing a bath and a bed? We can put the rest of this stuff away tomorrow, and then Monday we’ll be able to get class schedules and your schedule for softball practices. How does that sound? Good?" I don’t know about the schedules, but I could get really interested in the bath and bed.

"Yeah. Tell me something. Are you going to keep us this organized for the rest of our lives? I thought artists were supposed to be laid back and footloose characters." I couldn’t resist ribbing Becca about the reputation that all of the art students on campus we hippies. "Not all artists are that way, and those that are, aren’t successful. They live from hand to mouth, and I have no intention of living that way. To be a successful artist, you must to have discipline. So get used to it baby." Umph, since I’ve been properly chastised, I think I’ll go to bed. "Yes ma’am."

"God this is bliss." The one thing this apartment had was huge bathroom and tub with a Jacuzzi. I know it quenched the hedonistic streak in my lover. And if truth be told, I could really get to enjoy this too. I was beginning to become a bit of a hedonist myself. My angel had put lavender oil and lit vanilla aromatherapy candles around the tub. There were lots of plants strategically placed around the room, which only enhanced the ambiance. My little voice kept telling me something more than a bath would take place here tonight. I think my lover is trying to seduce me, which won’t be very difficult at all. "You never cease to amaze me. When did you find time to do this; it didn’t take me that long to get undressed." I should have known the next comment was coming. "Don’t ever forget, I have many skills," my lover whispered. Without warning, soft warm lips found mine and left a precious, lingering reminder of one of those many skills. Before I could respond the lips were gone. "Don’t go away, I’ll be right back," Becca purred in my ear.

"Oh boy," I groaned, "I’m in trouble deep here." I had closed my eyes luxuriating in the warmth, aroma, and feel of the water and the bubbles when I heard a voice whispering my name in my ear. "Stace, darling open your eyes; look at me."

The Greek goddesses had nothing on my angel. I had never seen anyone more beautiful; hell I’d never seen anyone nude before. Nothing in my experience prepared me for this. She was a vision; I almost thought I’d died and gone to heaven. Before me was the most beautiful sight in the world. This woman, this goddess was extraordinary. My senses were assaulted with her beauty. My eyes began to travel over her luscious body. Her face, with the high cheekbones, her azure eyes hooded with desire. Her aquiline nose, strong jaw, and full, soft red lips that begged to be kissed. My eyes traveled still lower to her ample breasts with dark brown nipples, and large aereolas, standing proud and erect. How I longed to take them in my mouth to suckle like a newborn deprived of its sustenance for too long. My eyes continued to feast on the form before me and fastened on their goal: the neatly trimmed triangle of dark hair at the juncture of by beloved’s thighs. I knew what awaited me there, the Nectar of the Gods, my angel’s proof of her love for me. Only I could cause her to produce this precious liquid, only for me. No one else would ever touch or taste or drink from this fount. Reluctantly, painfully, I tore my eyes away from her mons to her long, strong, shapely legs. They seemed to go on forever. How I longed to have them wrapped around my head as I ravaged her beautiful sex. Have I mentioned it’s getting hot in here?

"See something you like?" I never thought I’d be accused of not be able to talk, but I was struck dumb by the beauty before me. "Huh, what? Oh yeah very much," I growled low in my chest, "C’mere, let me touch you, hold you, love you. I’m not sure what I should do." The water should have been boiling just from the heat coming from my body. "Don’t worry baby just do whatever you like; I’m yours for the taking."

Without hesitation, my lover lowered herself gracefully into the water and straddled my lap. I was sitting on a ledge in the tub, so it allowed me to be eye level with Becca. Even though the difference in our height was obvious, we still fit together perfectly. As our bodies came together, my already throbbing, swollen nipples ached painfully for my lover’s touch. My angel reached out to take a swollen bud between her thumb and forefinger while our lips joined in a hot searing kiss. The resulting jolt of electricity went straight to our joined nether regions. I could feel the moisture pouring from my sex and believe me, it wasn’t the bath water. We broke our kiss from necessity, and Becca began to apply butterfly kisses across my cheek and down along my jaw. All the while whispering how much she loved me, how much she wanted me. When her tongue began exploring my ear, I nearly lost it.

"Tell me what you want baby, how do you want me to please you," she whispered hoarsely in my ear. "Say it baby, c’mon, I know you want to." While she was talking, I continued to rock my hips into hers. My hands held a death grip on her tight ass pulling her to my center searching for more contact. I was ready; I was more than ready. I wanted, needed more, but I couldn’t get my voice to work. Finally I gasped out. "Please, I need you inside---have to feel you. Oh God please, fuck me baby, hard!" I was married to a she-devil, a temptress whose sole desire was to drive me insane with need. "All you had to do was ask…" My senses were on overload, I was way past the point of wanting foreplay and I said so. "My God Becca please, do it. Take me now!"

I didn’t have to ask again. At the same time by lover’s mouth latched on to a turgid nipple I felt two fingers gently separate my swollen labia and stroke by burning clit. I could feel my center begin to throb and pulse with anticipation. I felt like I was flying; I’d never felt anything like this before. Just as my body was adjusting to all these new sensations, I felt one finger plunge deep into my steaming center. There was an instant of searing pain followed by intense pleasure as my baby stroked the inner surfaces of my core. I’d never felt any pleasure like this before. God it felt so good, nothing could feel better until I heard my lover’s sexy voice cover me like a warm blanket. "Oh yeah baby; you’re so wet, all for me baby? You feel so good inside, so warm, so creamy. Who does this belong to; tell me." What a question! There could be only one answer. "You baby, my angel only you. God, please more, harder, faster---fuck me harder; I need you. Don’t stop; please don’t stop. I’m so close." I could barely breathe, my heart was pounding, I thought surely I couldn’t take anymore when I felt a second finger join its mate inside my inflamed cunt, followed by a third. My body rocked in rhythm to the pace my angel’s fingers were setting. I could feel a burning deep inside and begin to work outward. I knew I was about to cum and so did my lover. "Now baby, cum for me. Give it to me, that’s it. Feel me inside you; it’s me fucking you like this; I want you to cum for me. Let it go baby; it’s okay, I’ve gotcha, I love you so much." I had lost control of my body as my climax approached. I had never imagined anything so incredibly intense. "Beccccccaaaaaa----I’m cummmmiiinng!" Colored lights exploded behind my

tightly closed eyes as my orgasm tore through my body starting from my center and working outward until every part of my body felt like it was on fire. When I finally came back to myself, I was aware of two strong arms wrapped tightly around me, holding me close, and a soft voice murmuring words of love in my ear. "Hang on baby, you’re all right, I’ve gotcha."

The building emotions ripped through me, and I could no more hold back the tears than I could stop a river from running to the sea. I’m sure my lover thought I’d lost my mind. But only love and concerned showed in her beautiful blue eyes. "Stace, baby what’s wrong? Oh God did I hurt you? Baby please don’t cry; talk to me; say something, please." It took a little bit to find my voice, but I knew I had to reassure my lover that I was okay. "No, honey you did nothing wrong. Everything felt so right and so good. I’ve never felt anything like that before. I had not idea love could be like this. As a matter of fact, for someone who has no idea what she was doing, ya done good. Now why don’t we get out of this tub and go to bed and let me return the favor. You have something I want."

Becca helped me out of the tub, and it’s a good thing because I found my rubbery legs wouldn’t/couldn’t hold me up. "Whoa you really know how to rock a girl’s world don’tcha?" Her response was automatic. "Well I have many…"

"…skills, yeah I know. How would you like to learn about my many skills?" The twinkle in my eye and libidinous grin on my face intrigued her immensely. "Lead on baby, I’ll follow you anywhere."

Lead on right, like I know what the hell I’m doing here. Hey go with the flow; remember what Becca said? Do whatever you want; whatever feels right. You’ll be fine. Yeah, and who made you the sexual expert huh? Hey, I’ve been around. You don’t actually think I spend all my time hanging around you do you? You don’t want my advice? Fine, I’m otta here. What the hell, I can do this.

One in the bedroom, the moonlight streaming through the window bathed my angel in a pale blue aura. She truly did look like a goddess. I had to touch her, taste her. "You are so beautiful, so perfect. I love you so very much. Please let me love you." My baby had no intention of arguing. "Yes baby, do it, take me, I’m yours."

In that one moment, I realized the gift that was being offered to me, and I swore I would do this right, not like in the coach’s office. I would make this deflowering something special for my angel. Gently, I laid Becca back on the bed and covered her body with my own. Oh it felt so good, so sensual, naked skin on naked skin. The vision spread out before me was mine for the taking, so open, so vulnerable. "Do you trust me not to hurt you?" I needed to know Becca was ready to give herself to me totally. "Yes.

"I love you so much. I’m going to take you now. You’re mine, and I can do anything I want, and I will. I’m going to taste every inch of your body, but since I’m new at this; I need you to help me. Can you do that for me my love?"

"Ye—sss." Oooo, I must be doing something right, she can hardly speak.

"Okay, I’m going to touch you, and I want you to tell me if you like it, if it feels good to you. Can you do that?" A slight nod. "Are you sure, tell me."

"Yyy—es."

"Good. Now, how ‘bout this? Do you like this?" I began kissing her face lightly all over, moving down along her throat, stopping at her pulse point and lightly sucking on it. A soft, throaty groan came from her lips causing me to groan as well. Next, I moved up along her neck to her ear and took her lobe between my teeth and nibbled softly. A louder groan resulted. Emmm, so far so good. While my lips, teeth and tongue pleasured her face and neck, my hands were stroking and roaming inch by inch over soft skin covering firm, taut muscles. My baby’s nipples were just to tempting to resist and I took one into my mouth and sucked and bit lightly on the erect bud of flesh. Becca’s reaction was immediate. She arched her back in an effort to force more of her breast into my mouth. Oh yeah, she likes this. "Oh baby that feels so good. Please, honey, suck me harder; suck my tits. Oh yeah, bite me." Man, this is fun.

"That’s it love, tell me what you like. Oh you’re so fierce, so hot. I love the way your body responds to my touch." I was getting wetter by the second just from her reactions; who knew?

Little by little, I continued to work my way down Becca’s luscious body tasting, kissing, and nipping her firm, warm flesh. She tasted so good, and I had no earthly idea what I was doing, but from the sounds my angel was making, I figured I must have been doing something right. Finally I reached my goal, and just spent some moments touching and running my hands through the soft downy patch of hair covering Becca’s womanhood. Her scent was arousing me more and more, and I remember how good she smelled from our last, lust filled encounter in the coaches’ office. Now I would take my time; I could feast to my heart’s content, and from the sounds my lover was making, I figured I’d better get down to business. Gently I spread my baby’s legs wider to accommodate my shoulders and lay down. I draped Becca’s legs over my shoulders and brought my mouth closer until I reached my lover’s labia. I had no notion of what to do next, and without conscious thought, my tongue reached out and timidly touched my baby’s sex. Becca’s hips shot off the bed as if she’d been scorched. It was all I could do to keep her powerful thighs from crushing my head. But a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. Without preamble or warning, I raked my tongue up and down my angel’s slit, making sure to stimulate the little bundle of nerves at the top. Becca’s reaction was tremendous. "God baby yes, whatever you’re doing don’t stop. Do it baby, it feels so good. I need more. Touch me please." I couldn’t believe what was happening. My baby’s love juices were pouring from her hot, steamy love hole. I honestly thought I might drown. Purposefully, I placed one finger at her opening and began stroking her. Her moans were constant now; her head whipped from side to side, her mouth was open slightly in an effort to pull in more air into her oxygen, starved lungs. I sensed my baby was ready, but I had to be sure; I didn’t want to hurt her. "I’m going to take you now darling, just relax and let me love you." She lay there totally open and exposed willing to give the most precious gift she possessed to me without reservation. "Yes, please. Do it!"

Gently, I inserted one finger inside her opening and pushed until I felt a restriction, while all the while I sucked and nibbled on her engorged clit. I knew, instinctually it was time. "My love you are so wet, you taste so good. Tell me does it feel good to you?"

"Ye-ssss sooo goooddd," she hissed.

"Well, it’s about to get better." I plunged my finger inside all the way and sucked and bit her clit at the same time, as my baby screamed out my name in climax. Her inner muscles clamped down on my imbedded finger, contracting tightly, holding me inside.

"Stace, sweet Jesus. I’m cumming, don’t stop, yes. Oh it feels so good. Keep fucking me; don’t stop. Pump your fingers in me please. I want you to cum with me baby." Becca lifted her thigh against my center and I began to ride her hard. Before her climax was over, I fell over the edge too. I collapsed in a heap next to my angel trying desperately to fill my lungs with much needed air. Through the ringing in my ears, I could hear my angel’s sweet voice. "Stace, are you okay?" Okay seemed so inadequate to describe how I felt at this moment. I couldn’t believe I’d just climaxed from feeling my lover’s climax tear through her body. "Oh yeah, I would say more than okay. More like terrific, tremendous, wonderful…" My wife slapped me playfully on the back of my head. "Stop, already. I get the picture. Now come up here and let me hold you." Yes, now I understand Harley’s inability to say no to Angie.

"Yes ma’am."

We wrapped our arms and legs around each other in a warm cocoon of love.

"Becca?"

"Yes love."

"Are you okay?"

"I’m very okay thanks to you. I love you."

"I love you too."

"Becca, is it normal to be so tired after making love?"

"My darling, I have no idea, but I think it’s a good thing, don’t you?" A very good thing, one I think I’ll be doing a lot from now on. "Umm humm, I do. Goodnight my love, sweet dreams." Becca burrowed down deeper into the bed and into my arms. "Only if I dream of you. Night love."

I did have sweet dreams that night; it was only the first one of many to come.

Chapter 9: UCLA Medical Center 1989

Whoever said it’d get easier. Maybe no one did. All the work, all the study, and all the knowledge, and still it doesn’t stop. You’d think I wouldn’t still be trying to prove myself to that son of a bitch. When will it end? I was so lost in my thoughts I didn’t hear my lover approach. But I did feel the warmth and love in her voice. "Hey lover. Diedre said you left right after the surgery. I thought I’d find you here. It’s not your fault you know. You have no reason to feel guilty. You did everything you could do; you can’t save everyone. And you certainly don’t owe him anything, not now, not after all this time." Both our eyes fell on the cold gray gravestone at our feet. "I know I shouldn’t let him still get to me, but he does, dammit he does." I will never tire of the feel of my angel’s arms around me, holding me, loving me, protecting me. "Sweetheart, you have to let go or this will continue to eat you up inside until it destroys you, and I couldn’t go on if that happened to you." I knew Becca was trying to make me feel

better, I even knew what she said made sense, why wasn’t it working? I knew why.

"You know, I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have a parent be proud of me. Would it have been too much to ask that just once he would have said, ‘You did good.’ Even on his death bed, he said I never amount to anything." My baby was in full protect mode now. "That’s bull shit! Did it ever occur to you he was he was just jealous of you. I mean look at you, what you’ve accomplished mostly on your own. You’ve graduated from college and you’ve become one of the most renowned and respected pediatric trauma surgeons in the world. He’d never have been able to do that. What he thought doesn’t mean "diddly squat"; I think you’re the smartest, most talented person I know. To hell with what he thought! Promise me you’ll stop thinking you’re worthless; the only person who can stop you from succeeding is you." I knew there was a reason I liked her. "You’re just prejudiced because I buy all your paintings and sculptures. But you’re wrong you know. You’re the most talented, beautiful, and intelligent person I know. I don’t know where I’d be without your love and support all these years. I love you very much Becca, let’s go home. Can we snuggle on the couch, eat popcorn and watch the ball game?" Aha! I think I struck a chord. "Sounds wonderful; in fact, this is the best proposition I’ve had all day, so yeah you’re on. Besides I’ve always wanted to play doctor. And Stace, I love you too baby. Now, I believe you mentioned something about a couch and cuddling. Let’s go."

Remember what I said about loss. This loss wasn’t trivial, but I wasn’t going to grieve over this one. God I hate cemeteries. Nobody said you had to come along. Yeah, yeah, yeah.

I have a ritual when returning home from the hospital, or anywhere else for that matter. I’ve been doing this for the past twenty years, so it must work. Or either that you’re a superstitious Type A personality. I am not a control freak; I just like organization so things operate smoothly. Um Hum. Anyway, the first thing I do/did when I come/came into the house, on this particular evening, was get rid the monkey suit I was forced to wear. Monday was not only the beginning of the week, but also the weekly mandatory meeting of department heads. Since I was the head of the new Pediatric Trauma/Cardiac Center, my presence was required. Usually, I spent the hour or so meeting doodling, or drawing pencil sketches of my angel. Hey, after all, being with a renowned artist for more than twenty years, something good is bound to rub off! Really all that I had to do was grunt noncommittally every now and again, at the appropriate time; that’s all the staff here expects from me anyway. My reputation for being gruff and temperamental precedes me. My assistant, Dr. Rachel Donnovon, and the only person besides Becca I can’t intimidate, says I save all my charm, what little there is, for my tiny injured patients. Once the dreaded monkey suit has been disposed of and I crawl into my favorite shorts and a T-shirt, I check to see what junk mail had arrived. Usually, it consists of bills and requests begging me to speak at some medical symposium or other, those immediately go into the trash. Then I check my e-mail. Most of the time my important e-mail is more of the junk that comes via the postman, it too goes into the trash. I surf the web to see if there is any good Xena Fan Fiction on the web; it comes in handy sometimes to stimulate one’s imagination, which in turn can enhance one’s sex life. Now don’t get me wrong, my baby and I certainly don’t need any help in the bedroom, but sometimes this stuff is just simply a hoot. From there, I head to the kitchen for a bottle of Corona and wander around from room to room looking for my angel. Of course this routine goes all to hell if my baby is gets home before me, then I find her first, and everything else becomes secondary. Today, there’s no wife, so I head out on the verandah next to the pool. Huh pool. Don’t you wonder why people who live by the ocean need a pool too? Just another example of the conspicuous consumption Californians seem to take great delight in. I knew it was too much to ask to go through a whole day without hearing from you. Cut me some slack here, the dam thing was already in when we bought the place. God, give me a break.

I wandered down to the beach and sauntered along until I found a dune suitable to watch the surf and the descending sun. I contemplated what destiny brought me to this time and place. Was it destiny, fate, or just "dumb luck"? I had everything I could possibly want: a beautiful wife, home, and the career I always wanted. Yes indeed, life doesn’t get any better than this. As I sit here nursing my Corona, lost in my thoughts, I watch the sun slide down into the sea. The brilliant colors blend together into twilight; I feel the warmth of my Becca’s arms wrap me in their loving embrace. I don’t know how long I’d been sitting there, contemplating about my life, I hadn’t even sensed her presence. I remembered other sunsets, and although the sunsets were different, there was always one constant, always with my lover, always Becca. An all encompassing, overwhelming feeling of peace and contentment envelop me. For once, I listened to my little voice. Don’t question, don’t ask why, just go with it. Finally she gets a clue. I heard that. Curiosity always gets the better of my lover when I’m quiet. I used to think it was because she always wanted to talk, but now I know she just wants to get inside my head, which is okay, I guess. "Penny for your thoughts." As if that’s all they’re worth. "Hey, I’m a famous surgeon remember? Surely my thoughts are worth more than a penny." My wife removed her arms from around my waist, stood, and curtseyed gracefully before me. "Oh, I humbly beg your forgiveness, ‘oh exalted one’. Your thoughts are priceless. Pray that I be worthy to be privy to your deepest secrets." She missed her calling; she should have been an actress. "All right, all right, enough already! You can cut the dramatics. Come back down here; I liked you better where you were." I pulled her back down to me and kissed her lips tenderly. My angel resumed her previous position behind, with me positioned between her legs. I leaned back against her chest, with her arms wrapped around me with mine resting on top. I rubbed my thumb in light teasing circles across her arms. "Just so you know, in this case, you’re right. They are priceless; I was thinking of you. Sometimes it seems like a lifetime ago, I can’t believe it’s been twenty years since we told your folks about us. Fortunately things worked out okay." That’s not all that worked out, eventually.

Chapter 10: John Hopkins 1975

"Please tell me you’re not serious!" My baby is nothing if, not direct. She wanted a logical explanation as to why I would want to disrupt our lives completely by moving 5000 miles to the east. "What does John Hopkins have UCLA Medical Center doesn’t? Explain that to me, will you? You did your internship at UCLA, I’m working on my masters in art at UCLA; there are thousands of people who go to school here and find their needs met more than adequately! Why do you have to be different?" That’s a very good question, what’s your answer smartass? This certainly wasn’t our first fight, but it was obviously going to be our biggest, and most damaging. God I was tired and I didn’t want to do this, so I tried to avoid it altogether. "Look honey, you’re tired, I’m tired. Let’s just go to bed, and talk about this in the morning when were both better able to discuss this rationally." Well it was a good try anyway. "Don’t you dare patronize me Stacey Lynn McGregor! I am perfectly capable of discussing this rationally; it seems to me, you are the one trying to avoid this. This isn’t going to go away, if you’re set on doing this, and evidently you are, we need to talk about this now."

When did this get so out of control? It seemed innocuous enough at the time. Where was the harm in simply writing a letter of application? Hopkins probably gets hundreds, thousands of letters on a daily basis from interns requesting admittance there to do their residency. Was it my fault their school was the best in the nation, perhaps the world, in the specialty I wanted: pediatric, cardiac care, with an excellent trauma unit as well? I ask you, is it my fault they chose my letter out of the thousands to chose from? Can I help it if they offered me a fellowship to complete my residency, and Becca can’t leave UCLA without trashing the year she’s put into completing her masters? Answer me that, will ya. No answer was forthcoming. Oh hell! How can I explain this to the one person who will be hurt the most? My angel’s the one person in the world I can no more live without than I could air to breathe, and the one who will be hurt the most from this separation. "I’m so sorry baby. I don’t mean to hurt you, but sometimes, that’s all I seem capable of doing. I know this means our being separated because I can’t ask you to give up your goals and dreams, no more than, I would hope, you’d ask me to give up mine, and this is my dream angel. All my life, I wanted to amount to something more than just a body taking up space and using up air in this world. I wanted to make a difference, maybe even ease someone else’s suffering, make their life a little better, than mine. This is my chance to do that, to help the little children who don’t have anybody else looking out for them. This may sound nuts, I believe this is why I’m here on this earth. Can you try to understand, please."

All during my little speech, my baby was turned away from me, standing by the window. Slowly, I closed the distance between us and reached out a shaking hand to touch her shoulder, dreading the thought she might rebuke me. I should have known better. She turned around, tears streaming down her beautiful face. Time stood still as I leaned in to reverently kiss the tears from her cheeks. I pulled my angel into my arms and we held each other for a time without speaking, the silence and our closeness was all the communication needed. After a time, Becca loosened our embrace, looked into my eyes, and spoke, "Please forgive me for being so selfish, only thinking of myself." Her fingers gently touched my lips, silently asking me to let her speak. "But the thought of our being apart made me crazy, I’ve never been so frightened of anything in my life. There hasn’t been a time when we haven’t been together, and I don’t know what to do, but I know I can’t ask you to give up your goal. And I couldn’t live with myself if I was responsible for killing your hopes and dreams. I love you too much to let that happen." I don’t know what I’ve ever done in my life to deserve my angel, but I thank God everyday she’s here, and it’s our love and devotion for each other that will get us through this. If I was ever sure of anything in this life, I was positive of that fact. "Oh honey, I know it will be hard, and there will be times when we’ll want to quit, to say to hell with it all, but as Harley’s always saying, ‘…anything worthwhile is worth the effort.’ we’ll find a way to make this work, we have to. Now c’mon, we are both exhausted, let’s just go to bed and cuddle up and go to sleep." Sleep found my angel, almost immediately, but even though I was exhausted, sleep wouldn’t come to me. I kept thinking this could turn out to best the best decision I ever made, or the biggest mistake of my life, one from which I could never recover. Only time would tell. I am not a control freak. That was the last conscious thought I had before sleep claimed me.

After a great deal of discussion, tears, yelling, and consternation we finally decided I would accept the residency offered to me at John Hopkins. We also decided Becca would come live with me for holidays and summer vacation when she wasn’t in school, since I would be virtually chained to the hospital for the next two years. I didn’t have any family to worry about saying goodbye to since the old man died two years previously. No great loss there, that’s for sure. The death certificate said pneumonia, but the cancer and liver damage done by years of incessant drinking was the real cause. Becca’s folks, on the other hand, presented a different set of circumstances. I kept remembering what Harley said about hurting Becca, and my leaving would certainly accomplish that. I hoped he understood I was doing this for Becca and our future together. At thirty-eight, Harley was still a very imposing figure of a man. He was still Sheriff in Bannock, and Becca was still the apple of his eye, his baby, and I was still the interloper who came along and stole her away. "What the hell do you think you’re doing traipsing clear across the country to do something you could just as easily do right here? Woman, have you taken leave of your senses? What the hell is Becca supposed to do for the next two years while your back east playing doctor?" Don’t take that the way it sounds. Harley still had a very distinctive look about him while he was having apoplexy: the veins on his neck stand out, and his face turns the most incredible color of red, almost purple. His blue eyes turn almost back, and all the well-developed muscles in his body, of which there are many, go rigid. All in all it is a very dangerous, yet impressive display indeed. Thank God for, "the voice of reason", that’s Angie’s often-used second name, and one she lives up to admirably. "Harley, calm down before you explode. I’m sure the girls are upset enough over this without you compounding the problem." You go girl, I thought as I had strategically placed myself, the object of Harley’s wrath, behind both Angie and my angel. He’d have to go through them both to get to me. "Don’t tell me you’re okay with this," he fumed, "Angie, Becca, talk to me here!"

"Daddy, of course I don’t like it, we don’t like it," Becca put her arm around me as she said that, as a symbol of solidarity, "but that’s just the way it’ll have to be for awhile. Besides, as bad as it is, it could be a lot worse. At least we’ll be able to spend holidays and summers together. And as soon as I’m finished with my masters, I can go back east and be with Stace full time." Well if she can show that much courage, so could I. Yeah, but Harley isn’t apt to harm his own daughter, you have no such protection. Why is it I don’t hear from you for days, weeks even, and then when things are the most screwed up you have to contribute your inane comments? Just part of my charm. Well I don’t find anything about you charming, so butt out. "At the risk of having my head handed to me, I would like to point out something. While we value your love and support, and Becca and I both love you very much, did I say that, when it comes right down to it, you have absolutely nothing to say about how we live our lives or the decisions we make that affect our lives." Harley was seething and since I didn’t seem to notice, Becca tried to stop my headlong plunge to disaster. "Baby, I don’t think…" I was oblivious to the impending danger. "Honey don’t interrupt, this has got to be said, I’m not finished yet…" Oh yeah, I was done. "I think you’ve said enough, smartass." Harley’s voice was low filled with undisguised venom. He emphasized the smart-ass. No doubt about it, I was toast. "You have no great desire to live very long do you?" Harley growled. Hey, what the hell, once a smartass, always a smartass. "I’ve done a little research, living a long time is highly overrated. The body goes to hell, your sex life suffers, and your teeth fall out. Nope, a long life is not for me, but while I’m here, I’ll make my own decisions, without any outside interference; unless, of course, I ask for it." Once again, I’ve tempted fate and survived. God; am I good or what? "Is she always like this, or is it just me?" My baby took over. "Daddy, it’s just a conflict with authority thing. I’m hoping she’ll lighten up with time." Harley gave me a once over and then shrugged. "I wouldn’t hold my breath were I you." Another disaster with "the folks" narrowly averted, score another one for the home team, yeah.

It was a long two years. There were even a couple of times when I was ready to give up, change my specialty, quit, go home to the shelter of my angel’s arms, my haven. Then I remembered who was suffering the most, it wasn’t me it was the little innocents. The little battered, broken, and bent bodies in such pain, and I couldn’t save them all. The innocent always seems to suffer the most, why is that. Probably the worse time was the first year, at Christmas time. I was feeling sorry for myself cause I hated snow, it was cold and wet, and I wanted to be in sunny California with my angel. Everyone in the unit was blithely, merrily going about his or her holiday preparations, full of the Christmas spirit. You know peace on earth, good will toward men. I think this was when my reputation for being aloof, temperamental and an all around pain in the ass began. Y’can’t please everyone, I always say, so don’t even try. Anyway, I had just finished a grueling three-day stretch, in the unit, with little or no sleep, food, or anything else the body needs to function at optimum efficiency. I was working on my last good nerve, when an idiotic orderly crashed into me with a bedpan; no it wasn’t empty, until he ran into me. I barely managed to avoid being drenched by the entire contents, and survived with only a few splatters on my shoes. A new pair of shoe covers would remedy that, but lest we forget, I was operating on my last good nerve, and that was all it took to lose it altogether.

I was about to unload on our hapless orderly when all hell broke loose in the unit. I don’t know if Cindy didn’t alert us of the incoming, or I just missed it in my sleepless induced haze. But that was beside the point. The Trauma Unit doors crashed open, and from that moment on I operated solely on instinct. There dwarfed by the huge gurney lay the tiny form of a bruised and beaten little child. She couldn’t have been more than four months old, and to this day, I don’t know what made her tiny little body cling to life.

All traces of exhaustion evaporated as my adrenaline kicked in and my body surged into overdrive. The EMT’s moved the stretcher into the trauma room and transferred the still form of the baby onto the gurney. There was no time to waste, this child’s injuries were critical and life threatening. The trauma nurse, Irene "Irish" Rafferty was the best in the business. "What do we have Irish?" Irish ticked of the injuries efficiently, almost indifferently. My God Irish this is just a child, a baby for Christ’s sake. But the seemingly aloof professionalism was not only best for the patient, but best for Irish too, something I had yet to learn. "Three-month old, female infant with blunt abdominal trauma, closed head injury, internal bleeding. Pulse 135 and racing, BP 70/palp, pupils dilated and fixed. Also lung sounds diminished. Probably a collapsed lung." How could this have happened? As though she’d read my mind, a low growl emerged from my chief trauma nurse. "The father said she fell out of her cradle."

Time was of the essence. "I want a CBC, type and cross for five units of blood. I’ll need two more IV lines, a 22ga needle with normal saline. Let’s get a Dopamine drip. Go! Go! Now!" Slowly, gently, I ran my hands over her tortured little body, thanking any god who’d listen that at least she was unconscious and numb to the pain. I checked the head trauma first. "She has a depressed skull fracture." While I was continuing my examination, the attending physician Dr. Arthur Brenninger rushed into the room. I barely acknowledge his presence. "What’s the situation Dr. McGregor?"

"Severe head and abdominal injuries, internal bleeding. I’ve ordered ex-rays, blood, and alerted OR to standby." Irish was listening to the child’s lungs. "Mac I’ve got decreased breath sound, both sides."

"Get two chest tubes kits, now!" Dr. Brenninger grabbed a couple of kits from the cabinet. "I’m all over it Mac." The trauma surgeon made the appropriate incisions and had inserted them with a precision borne of years of experience in the ER.

"The lines are in." Irish reported. Sometimes a surgeon could use four hands. "Irish dress this wound, quick." Brenninger moved the portable ultrasound unit and scanned the baby’s abdomen. The aorta is torn; she’s bleeding out as fast as we put it in."

"Somebody get on the bag and squeeze it in. I want .5 atropine and open the IV’s as far as you can. I’ll be damned if I’m going to lose this child!"

All eyes scanned the monitors hoping for a miracle, knowing it was unlikely. The monitor said it all. "Damn, the monitor’s reading PVC’s. Give her a load dose of Lidocaine. Irish grasped the medication from the crash cart and filled the syringe with the appropriate dose and jabbed the needle into the IV port and depressed the plunger delivering the medication into the patient. Everyone in the room silently watched as the monitor indicated the medication was doing its job, but the small, weak heart could no longer maintain its function. In the next instant, the machine’s alarm sounded shrilly and flat-lined. "Asystole!" I yelled, "Give her one milligram of epine…" I felt a strong hand touch mine, stopping my momentum to the crash cart. "No, Mac. Let her go. She’s been through enough. Her little body can’t take anymore." I looked at Dr. Arthur Brenninger, my mentor, like he was an alien from outer space. Then I exploded. "Like hell I will, I didn’t go into medicine to stand by and watch my patients die. I won’t allow it." I charged forward almost knocking Irish over in the process. Two large EMTs grabbed me and held me against the wall of the trauma room. Dr. Benninger approached me and laid a gentle, reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Let her go, Dr. McGregor. Stacey, listen to me. Sometimes it’s out of our hands; it hurts like hell, makes us angry, frustrated, and yes even helpless at times in the face of such brutality and death. I’ve been in medicine for forty years, and believe me, it’s still the same, it isn’t easy to lose a patient, it never will be, and if it ever does become easy, you’re in the wrong profession." I looked him right in the eye, fighting the tears welling up in my own. "Maybe you’re right, maybe I am in the wrong profession if doctors give up this easily." As I turned to leave the room, I heard Irish’s voice. "Time of death, 2:35am."

Out in the hallway, I saw two people leaning against the wall, one, a woman crying uncontrollably, the second, an older man dressed in a gray shirt and pants. "Look, there’s nothing you can do, what’s done is done, it doesn’t matter anymore. The kid’s better off now. You can’t feed the two ya got at home now, you should be thankful ya got one less mouth to feed." I still don’t know to this day the sequence of events. All I do know is that I tackled the man and had him pinned to the floor beneath me while my hands wrapped around his throat in a death grip. I repeatedly pounded his head into the floor. "It does matter," I screamed, "she matters. Don’t you understand? You never understood!" I felt myself being jerked and torn away from the man, my hands loosened from around his throat. "You keep that lunatic away from me. She and this hospital are in a helluva lot of trouble. I’ll sue you all; I’ll press charges! You just see if I don’t!" As two police officers were hauling the irate, battered man away, I heard them warn him. "Buddy, if I were you, I’d keep my mouth shut! You’re in no position to be threatening anyone. You’ll be too busy trying to explain what happened to your little baby to be worrying about suing anybody."

In a horrible daze, I stumbled into the locker room and sat down heavily on the bench by my locker. I couldn’t believe what I had done. I went into medicine to repair the damage inflicted, on the innocent, by people like him. I swore I’d never result to violence; I’d never be like him. I opened my locker and grabbed my clothes and changed from my bloody scrubs. I managed to negotiate the several blocks of ice and snow covered sidewalks, until at last I reached by apartment building. My key clicked in the lock, and I literally fell inside. Somehow I managed to remove my clothes and get into the shower. The water was adjusted as hot as I could stand it, hoping the water would wash away the hurt, frustration, and rage that coursed through my body. I began to weep, softly at first, then harder and harder until the powerful sobs shook my whole body and I convulsed with them. I slid to the floor and wrapped my arms around my knees and curled into a ball on the floor. The water pulsed continuously down onto my nakedness. Eventually the sobs reduced to periodic whimpers and finally quieted. I don’t know for whom I cried. The little child who just died, or for myself, at the loss of my innocence so long ago at the hands of another child beater. Did I mention loss?

I dragged myself out of the shower and onto the bed totally exhausted. I knew I couldn’t deal with this alone, and there was only one person in the world that could heal my pain. I dialed the number in California, and a sleep filled voice resonated in my ear. "Hello?" I spoke only four words. "Baby, I need you." They were enough. "Darling, I’m on my way." I curled up into a ball and settled into a troubled sleep. I wasn’t sure what time it was when I awoke, but the pre-dawn light was beginning to chase the gloom and despair of the darkness away. The first thing my sleep-deprived senses became aware of was the safe, secure feeling of two strong arms securely wrapped around me, and the unmistakable scent that was my angel. As much as I hated the thought of moving from my warm nest, I needed to raise my head just enough to see my beloved’s face. When I did my eyes connected with smiling blue. Oh how I needed my angel. "You’re here, I’m not dreaming. Thank you for coming; I want and need you here so much." Soft, warm lips met mine, and joined. This kiss wasn’t about passion or lust. The kiss was about healing a very shattered spirit. It was a reaffirmation of our love and commitment to each other. My baby, always in tune to my feelings, knew I was in a great deal of pain, very nearly emotionally bankrupt. "My love whatever has happened to you? But it’s okay now; I’m here now. I’ll make everything that’s hurting you go away. Just rest now." Could I dare let myself believe things would ever be all right again? But my angel said so, and she’s never lied to me, and she has the ability to make whatever is wrong in my world right again, why should this time be any different? So I did the only thing I could do; I believed in her, in us, and in our love. "Okay."

And things did get to be okay. True to her word, my baby fixed my world and brought the light back into my life again. Gone was the idealistic, wide-eyed young resident. Lost was the naiveté. I knew I was in a battle for survival, and never again would I underestimate my enemy so completely. Finally, I found the strength to tell Becca about the horrific events that occurred on December 15, 1975, a day I’ll never forget, a day that changed and shaped my professional attitude to what it is today. That night death became my sworn enemy. I made a silent vow to myself to never allow death to catch me so totally flatfooted again. Never again would I fall so easily before death’s onslaught. My colleagues came to know me as the Warrior Physician. That’s lame. Hey don’t look at me. If death was the Black Knight, I was his counterpart. No matter how barbaric and cruel death was, I was even more calculating and ruthless in the defense of its victims.

With my new, found demeanor, confidently defiant, and with just the right amount of contriteness, at Becca’s insistence, I found myself poised in front of the physician’s conference room ready to meet my fate. I had been called to the hospital to face charges of misconduct. Yeah, I guess beating the shit out of a patient’s stepfather could be called misconduct. But, the bastard did have it coming. That’s my little voice. Be that as it may, the fact of the matter was I lost control of my emotions, and for me to be a good doctor, I can’t lose my cool. I paused at the thresh hold to the conference room, and took a deep breath. My angel stood next to me, she refused to let me go alone, and took my hand in hers. Oh so gently, she took our entwined hands, raised them to her sweet lips and kissed my knuckles tenderly. "Go get ‘em tiger, but stay calm. I’ll be here waiting when you’re through." I looked at her, uncertain of the outcome of this meeting. "No matter what?" The look in my baby’s eyes said it all. "Oh honey, yes, no matter what." With that, I was engulfed into my world’s arms and kissed lovingly on the top my head much like a mother would who was trying to reassure her frightened child everything would be okay.

Seated around the conference table were the powers that be, who would either allow me to continue to practice medicine, or force me into early retirement. Retirement could be okay. We could find a nice deserted tropical island… Stop, retirement requires funds to have been amassed somewhere along the way, and besides, who said you’d be invited? Needless to say, I had no desire to retire, early or otherwise. The disciplinary board consisted of several hospital board members I didn’t know, the Chief of Staff, Dr. Harold Everett, ER Trauma Unit Director, Dr. Arthur Brenninger, and a representative from the Pediatric Unit, Dr. Rachel Donnovon. These half dozen people held my future in their hands, and I hoped they knew how fragile my physche was about now. Dr. Everett was the first to speak. "Please, sit down, Dr. McGregor. I’m sure you understand the gravity of the situation, and the nature of the charges brought against you. As an institution that serves the public good," …and charge dearly for that service. Shut up. "…we hold their trust, and we have a responsibility to ensure the safety of everyone who comes here for treatment. This is a sacred trust we take very seriously, as should you, doctor. We certainly can not, nor will not allow or condone, one of our physicians violating that sacred trust. Do you understand what I’m saying? " Sounds like the standard rhetoric, which just means they’re trying to save their own butts. Do you mind? At this point, I felt like a like that same little kid who put a dent in the Sheriff’s motorcycle thirteen years ago, only I have a good deal more bravado, but not being any the wiser for the experience.

"Yes Dr. Everett, I am well aware of my responsibility for my actions. However, I am equally aware of my responsibility for the patients under my care who cannot speak for themselves. Still, knowing these things, I am ready to accept whatever disciplinary actions you and the other members of this board deem appropriate." How’s that? "Very well Dr. McGregor, we…" I interrupted, "But I feel it necessary to inform this panel that if the same set of circumstances were presented again, I would act no differently in the face of such barbarity to a defenseless, innocent child." That sickening thud you just heard, was you as you fell through the trap door and the hangman’s noose snapped your neck, killing you, and killing your career in the process. The room was so quiet you could hear me sweating. The only sound was Dr. Everett’s jaw hitting the table. Dr. Donnovon supported her head in one hand and shook it from side to side. The board members gasped collectively, and Dr. Brenninger, my mentor, merely smiled. To say the esteemed members of the august panel, with the exception of the trauma head, were in shock would be an understatement. Once Dr. Everett lifted his jaw and found his voice, his barely controlled anger evident, growled. "Dr. McGregor, you can’t be serious?" In for a penny, in for a pound. "Yes Dr. Everett, I am; very serious."

He clenched his fists then pointed a finger at me, but before he could respond, I reacted; hell I was on a roll now. I jumped to my feet, the force of my action knocked the chair backward at least a foot. I thought the old geezer at the end of the table would have a heart attack, and the matronly gray- haired woman next to him would collapse with an attack of the vapors. I was so concerned with the proceedings; I hadn’t noticed Becca come into the room. "How dare you," she roared, "Let me ask you people something. Have you ever been beaten doctor? Beaten so badly you pray for death just to stop the pain. Well Stacey has, repeatedly, so badly she was hospitalized and nearly died. Well, she didn’t die; the cuts and bruises healed, but the scars are still there. But these scars can’t be seen by the naked eye. No, these scars run deep and they will be a long time healing. But in time they will heal, she gets a little better every day. You see; I know love saved her, my love, and I’m so very proud of her and our love, and love will see us through all the rough spots together." Dr. Everett tried to stop Becca from speaking, but he might just have well tried to stop a run away train, as my baby when she’s this angry. "Young lady, I don’t…"

"Don’t interrupt me doctor, I’m not finished yet." You bet, fire when ready Ridley. "Stacey told me something a very long time ago. She made a promise to herself, and me, that she would never give in to the violence, become part of the problem instead of the solution. That’s one of the reasons Stacey chose medicine as her life’s work. But do you have any idea what she is sorriest about? She broke her promise to me, and she’s been beating herself up for that ever since. Was she wrong? I don’t know; I’ll certainly not judge her. I have no idea what it must have been like to live the way she did, to go through what she did. The fact that she was abused as a child, is no excuse for resorting to violence, I know that, she knows that. In that, she was wrong, and she’ll be the first to admit that fact. I’m not numbered among those who believe just because they were abused, they too will become abusive. Stacey doesn’t believe that either. We believe everyone is responsible for and can control one’s own actions. I know Stacey is quite capable of speaking for herself, but she’d never tell you these things. She would never use her abusive father as an excuse. I just wanted to make damn sure you knew her circumstances so maybe you would understand what a person could be driven to do." You better hang on to that lady, you have no idea how fortunate you are. Oh you are so wrong because I do indeed know. A hushed silence descended in the room like a heavy fog. The tension was palpable. I righted the chair and pulled one out for my defender and sat down, stunned, resigned to my fate; I’d probably never be able to practice medicine again. But I realized I had something far more precious than a job or career. Oh well, at least we’ll all go down in a blaze of glory! What makes you think you have to go down with us. Are you kidding? You think I’d leave you and miss all the fun, heh, there’s not a chance. Oh joy.

When Dr. Brenninger cleared his throat, I lifted my eyes to look at him directly. I waited for the verdict I knew would be final. "Well I’ll be damned. In all my years in the practice of trauma surgery, and all the people I have interacted with in those forty years, I have never been witnessed to anything like this. Unbelievable. And in all those same years, I have never seen more knowledge and talent in a doctor so young. But knowledge and talent aren’t the only prerequisites to be a good doctor, nor, I think, are they the most important. No Dr. McGregor, to be a successful physician, one needs compassion and empathy for the suffering of their patients. But maybe the most important quality doctors must have is the ability to detach themselves from that suffering in order to help their patients. You have all these qualities Mac; you just need to work on the last one. If you don’t, you’ll never make it in this business. The pain, suffering, and yes, the anger and frustration you see on a daily basis will tear you up inside until it destroys you. Now go outside with your lady while we decide what to do with you." When I looked in my baby’s eyes, I saw the love, devotion, and the familiar ‘I’m very proud of you’ look. As we turned, hand in hand to leave, Dr. Brenninger asked, "Young lady, are you studying to be an attorney?" I couldn’t help the little grunt that escaped my mouth. "No she’s an artist; the very best at what she does." My mentor chuckled at the double meaning. "Too bad, I think you may have missed your calling, and Mac no matter how this turns out, you’d better not turn her loose." I was no fool. Well, not always. "You’ve never seen her in action, and no sir, I have no intention of ever letting go."

Once out in the hallway, my lover dropped her eyes immediately; the impact of the affect her words had on those who sat in judgment of me suddenly took effect. She couldn’t take her eyes from my new boots, which had suddenly become very interesting. I raised her head and looked directly into her eyes. "Hey, are you okay?" She could only shake her head in answer. "I’m very proud of you, y’know. I’ve never had anyone stand up for me like that before. You know how that makes me feel?" Again, she nodded her head almost imperceptibly. "It makes me feel like I’m the most important person in the world; it makes me feel really loved. And do you know what else?" Another gentle shake. "No matter what they decide, we’ll still have each other, nothing will ever change that; I love you very much." With having said that, I leaned in and kissed my angel reinforcing my words. "I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you," I whispered between kisses, "but, I’m so glad you’re with me." My baby nodded yet again, "…and I love you too, so very much."

We sat down in the waiting area, and before long Irish appeared at the end of the hall, behind her were several of the ER Techs and the two EMTs who were on duty that night. Then, without warning two uniformed policemen came down the hall escorting a very uncooperative man dressed in an orange prison jumpsuit. This was the same man who I knew was responsible for beating that innocent baby to death. Instantly the rage and anger I felt for this scumbag surfaced, and I was on my feet ready to tear him to pieces again. But just as instantly, my Becca arose and touched me gently, but firmly on my shoulder. "Baby, please, he just isn’t worth it, don’t stoop down to his level." Slowly my anger subsided and my breathing and heart rate returned to normal. "What’s going on, and what’s he doing here?" I glared at the ass hole; if looks could kill, he’d be one dead puppy. "Did you have something to do with this?" Becca shook her head. "No, I have no more of an idea what’s going on than you do!" Irish took action. "Why don’t you officers sit down while I explain to the good doctor." The two officers sat down with their prisoner while Irish began the explanation.

"Y’see doc, it’s like this. We all felt like hell after little Casey died. That was her name, Casey Faraday. We figured this scumbag had something to do with it, but we had no proof, nothing to go on." The young blonde EMT Joel Hansen, added, "Yeah and the way he was treating little Casey’s mom out in the waiting room was really bad. I wanted to go slap him upside the head myself." Faraday squirmed in his chair. Brook Foster the other EMT continued. "He must have figured we were about to do some-thing, cause he dragged Mrs. Faraday out into the hall where we couldn’t see what he did." Irish filled in some more information. "I told Cindy, the unit secretary, to call the police, and they got there evidently just about the time you came out into the hall and all hell broke loose." At least now I know whom it was who pulled me off that bastard. It’s probably a good thing too because I believe I would have killed him. "Okay, this is all well and good, but it still doesn’t explain what you all are doing here,

now."

Officer Warren took over the explanations at this point. "Well Irish here…" the look exchanged between the two was hard to miss, especially when Irish blushed. I’ll be damned, I didn’t think she had it in her. "…called me the other day, and told me you were getting some flack over this lowlife, so I talked to my captain and we arranged a little furlough for our friend here." Officer Gerald Smith had had some prior experience with Faraday. "You see, when we got him to the station, and looked into his files, we found he had a rap sheet as long as your arm. When we started to question him and leaned on him a little, he started singing like the proverbial bird, confessed to everything. We won’t even have to waste the taxpayer’s money on a trial. The judge sentenced him to life without parole." [Editorial comment: don’t we wish abusers would be put away for life.] "Anyway," Irish interjected, " we thought it might help your case if we all came down and talked to those old pompous SOB’s and sorta set the record straight. I mean you’re a doctor, and you’re supposed to fix people’s cracked skulls, not create them." Suddenly, for the first time, the repercussions of my actions dawned on me, and I felt ashamed. Thank God for Becca’s loving, reassuring touch. "Not that he didn’t deserve it." Irish saw my reaction. "But doc, you’re supposed to be above the rest of us; y’know, know better. But still in all what you did doesn’t deserve you being tossed out on your ear. So we’re gonna fix it." With that, Irish got her troops moving with the speed and precision that would put the most experienced, battle hardened troop commander to shame.

She and the EMTs, ER Techs, Officers Warren and Smith, with the disgruntled Faraday objecting loudly crashed through the conference room doors and into the room. Becca and I could do nothing but follow in their wake, and suddenly the thought of losing my position was the least of my worries. The old geezer wheezed; the matron gasped, Art and Dr. Donnovon roared in laughter and Dr. Everett’s voiced thundered in righteous indignation. "Just what in the name of all that’s holy do you think you are doing? Who gave you the right to burst into this room; we are engaged in private very important deliberations. Judith, Everett’s secretary, among other things; not now, call security! Immediately!" Only Rachel could see the ludicrousness in that action. "Umm, excuse me, Dr. Everett, but there are two policemen here already. I don’t think security will be necessary." Hey this girl has potential! We need to get her on the team. "Yes, well I guess security would be superfluous. Judith, sit down. Please, will someone tell us what’s going on here? Nurse Rafferty, would better start explaining yourself, this chaos has your signature all over it." Art grunted.

"Dr. Everett, Dr. Brenninger, we’re here, the officers, staff, and me, to put in a good word for Mac, uh, Dr. McGregor." Ohhhhhh Goooodddd, my medical career is finished before it ever got started. "What’s goin’ on here isn’t fair. Ya can’t fire the Doc." The faces around the table registered surprise, if not downright shock. "Where did you get the idea we were going to fire Mac, Dr. McGregor?" Art was trying to make some sense of the events taking place. "We thought…I mean…we just…I guess…" Everyone turned en masse toward Irish. " Ha, heh, heh, ha. You know in a week or two, maybe a month, years, we’re all going to look back on this and laugh. Oh God." Then it dawned on me what Art had said. A ray of hope inched slowly into my consciousness. "Dr. McGregor will not be fired and if you’ll all sit down, I’ll explain our decision." Everyone found a chair and sat down, and once the chair scuffling had stopped, Dr. Benninger began. "While we, the board, certainly do not condone the use of violence for any reason, as Ms. Danforth so eloquently pointed out, none of us can even imagine the pain and suffering with which Mac has had to deal. Still, as was mentioned earlier, we cannot condone her behavior. Therefore, some disciplinary action must be taken. However, due to these mitigating circumstances the board has decided to be lenient. It is the boards decision that Dr. Stacey Lynn McGregor, here it comes, will be placed on suspension, with pay, for a period of three weeks. There will be a notice of this action placed in her permanent personnel file, as required by law. The suspension will begin immediately, this date, and continue until January 4, 1976. The decision is final." For just a moment, the room was completely silent; it took that long for the Trauma Surgeon’s words to sink in. Only a suspension, I’ll be damned. Then a roar of laughter erupted from those assembled, excluding the staid board members and prisoner Faraday. Even Dr. Everett smiled, a little. Irish and her compatriots exchanged high five’s and clapped themselves on their backs. Soon everyone was engulfed in a group hug.

Finally, for lack of air more than anything else, I pulled away and cornered my mentor. "Why did you go so easy on me Art, and I want the truth; you’d have been well within your rights to toss my ass out of here and make sure I never practiced medicine anywhere again." Art knew I wasn’t going to let this go. "A couple things actually, first, and foremost, I meant what I said earlier. You are one of the finest raw talents I’ve ever seen. You have the potential to be the best. You’ll have to work at it, but I believe you’ll get there, one day. Secondly, I thought about what you said as you were leaving that night. You know about not giving up. I began to wonder when I stopped thinking about my patients desires, what did they really want, and when did I start beginning to impose my will on them just because I was the doctor. I wondered if I was beginning to believe my own press about how good I was and all that bull." The next thing I sensed was my baby standing behind me and being cacooned in her strong arms. Obviously she wasn’t the least bit concerned of offending our friends, neither the members of the board, nor Faraday, his expression of disgust clearly evident on his face, as Officer Smith was leading him from the room. Who cares what he thinks. Not me that’s for sure. "Hey doc, congratulations again, we have to get Mr. Wonderful back to the station house, but if there’s anything you need, give us a holler." Who’d have ever thought I make friends with a cop, Harley notwithstanding? "Thanks Office Warren, I’ll bare that in mind." He smiled, shook my hand, and kissed my Becca on the cheek. "Good luck," he said to her, "I think you’ll need it." I glared at the cop and then let it go. I guess I did owe him one. Becca just tightened her hold around my waist. She is so cool.

Also watching my baby’s interaction with me intently was Dr. Donnovon. I had seen her around the hospital, but we had never had the chance to work together. She worked in the Pediatric Unit, and my rotation to that department wasn’t due until after the first of the year. I assumed we would be working together, so I decided I’d better to a little reconnaissance. When the good doctor noticed me watching her watching us, she beat a hasty retreat out the door. I took Becca’s hand and nodded toward the door. "Let’s get out of here." Once out the door, I called to the small retreating form. "Wait, Dr. Donnovon, I’d like to talk to you for a minute." She turned, and I didn’t give her a chance to say anything. "Dr., I’d like to introduce you to my partner, Rebecca Marie Danforth." My angel smiled one of her one hundred million, dollar smiles and extended her hand in friendship. The doctor’s hand was dwarfed by my lover’s much larger hand. "I’m very pleased to meet you Ms. Danforth, your partner has created quite a commotion around here, one that was long overdue I might add." A dark eyebrow arched and disappeared underneath black bangs. "You sound as though you’ve been here quite awhile, but, you’ll pardon me if I say, you hardly look old enough to be out of high school, and Stace has never mentioned you at all." Sneaky lover, I never mentioned her because I’ve not met her until just now. "You have nothing to be sorry for; I get that all the time, and my mother says in a few years I’ll be thankful for my little girl looks. I’m the Pediatric Cardiac Unit attending physician; I came here from the Mayo Clinic in Seattle, four years ago where I’d been after graduating from the University of Washington. And as for Mac not mentioning me, we’ve actually never met until just now." There, y’see? "Listen, I’d like to thank you for going out on a limb for me in there. I mean you don’t even no me, I appreciate it more than you’ll ever know." She looked me directly in the eye, spoke with genuine, honest sincerity. "Let’s just say I appreciate talent, and I got tired of listening to those old fuddie duddies on the board. They needed to be brought down a peg or two." I still felt I needed to convey my appreciation. "Nonetheless, thank you and if I can ever do anything for you in return, all you have to do is ask." The Pediatric attending smiled graciously, "Well I’ll keep that in mind…" Her conversation was interrupted by the speaker overhead. Dr. Donnovon to Pediatrics, stat. "… dam, of you’ll excuse me, I’ve gotta go." My angel and I had no idea, at that moment, as we watched Rachel run down the hall to the elevators and disappear in a rush, that she would play such a huge part in our lives. We had no clue she would become the best friend either one of us ever had, but she did, and I thank God every day for her.

Once the mini-celebration was over, and people went their separate ways, I looked at my lover and realized how physically and mentally exhausted she was, me too for that matter. "Hey darlin’, what say we go home. I need a hot bath and a nap, interested?" A tired smile appeared on my lover’s face. "You don’t have to ask me twice. Let’s go." We wound our way through the maze of hallways and found the elevators that would take us to the ground floor and out into the cold December night. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and the moon shone down on the snow creating a sparkling, bright winter wonderland. I must admit, even though I’m from sunny California and not used to cold and snow, I found Baltimore and wintertime quite beautiful. That’s cause your brain has been frozen; give me the surf and sun anytime. Well don’t let nothin’ but fear stop ya. Hardy har har! Not to mention, it gives me the perfect excuse to snuggle. I wrapped my arm around my lover and guided her toward the parking lot. "It’s cold out here. People can get into serious trouble if they’re not careful." My angel’s patented arched eyebrow made an appearance. "No, I’m not kidding; hypothermia is dangerous and can be deadly. Ya can’t be too careful." Becca went along with my reasoning. "Okay, in your learned, professional opinion just what do you recommend." We reached Becca’s rental car and I unlocked the door. "Oh preventative precautions are always the best." My baby was really enjoying our playful banter, and to tell the truth, so was I. "Tell me Dr. McGregor, what do you prescribe?" Oh baby you walked into this head on. As I opened the car door, I grasped both lapels of my baby’s wool overcoat. I tugged her toward me and kissed her passionately, my tongue demanding, and gaining entry into her warm mouth. Our kiss escalated quickly, our tongues dueling, battling for control. I relented slightly, but only to change tactics, and began nibbling on my baby’s lower lip, then sucking it into my mouth. Our mutual groans filled the air, and we broke away from each other panting for much needed air. "Let’s go home, and I’ll reveal all my secret remedies guaranteed to chase away the cold." Oh yeah, you go girl.

Chapter 11: Back to the Beach

"Hey where did you go? I’ve been calling to you for a few. What’s up, you’re still not thinking about your dad are you?" She’s right y’know let it go. "No baby, actually I was thinking of something far more pleasant." Becca sat down next to me on the couch, snuggled down into the deep cushions, and took my arm and wrapped it around her shoulders thereby positioning her head on my breast. "Comfy? I made popcorn; I’ll share, but only if you elaborate more about your pleasant thoughts?" Like I can say no to you about anything. "Yes, I’m very comfy and those pleasant thoughts revolve around cold remedies." For just a bit, my baby looked at me like I’d lost my mind. "Pleasant memories about cold remedies…" I whispered softly in her ear. "…oh yeah, those remedies. Do you s’pose those remedies would be appropriate in sunny California?" Move the popcorn baby; I’m coming in. "I’m sure some adaptations might be necessary, but I think they’d work very well." The trial and error research for just the appropriate California cold remedy moved from the couch to our bed. The search continued on throughout the night until the wee hours of the morning before two exhausted, but contented researchers fell asleep in a tangle of arms and legs.

The early morning sunlight made its presence felt in a most intrusive manner: right smack in my eyes. I hate that. The warm, loving comfort of my baby enfolded all around me, on the other hand, is quite another matter. There is nothing more delightful than waking up in my wife’s arms, kind of makes a little sun in the eyes easier to bare. The next obtrusive and irritating disruption to my early morning tranquillity was the alarm clock. Whoever invented the annoying, buzzing electric alarm should be jailed for crimes against humanity. I looked at the offensive instrument wishing I could launch it somewhere between here and the sun. Listen, if it bothers you so much, there is a very simple solution to your discomfort, just reach over and shut it off. Another thing I hate is grating, inane, little voices at 5:00am. The precious body draped all over me stirred. "Are you going to shut that thing off or am I going to have to hurt you?" Whoo, I didn’t know she was so volatile this early in the morning, so to be safe, I reached over and silenced the nasty sounding device. "Good morning to you too." Warm, soft lips connected with mine, and these minor annoyances were quickly forgotten under the onslaught of my baby’s loving touch. "Sleep well my love?" I knew the response I’d get from that question. "…don’t wanna get up; too comfortable." A pillow suddenly covered my love’s head. My angel doesn’t do mornings well. Conversely, I, borne of years of rising at the crack of dawn, to avoid an early morning beating, don’t mind getting up early. As a matter of fact, I found the tranquil peace of the morning quite conducive to settling my jumbled, disjointed mind. I had learned, over the years, to let my angel have her space, and time, to get up on her own. I’d long since given up the notion of trying to make a morning person out of Becca. For one thing, it ain’t gonna happen, ever, and in the second place, remember Harley’s genes, she is not a happy camper and for the sake of my good health, I just leave her to her own devices when it comes to getting up.

I cautiously lifted the offending pillow and kissed Becca’s disheveled locks and retreated to the bathroom, barely avoiding the feather filled missile that bounced harmlessly off the wall. "Temper, temper, that kind of behavior isn’t good for the digestion this early in the morning." And, true to form, Becca’s empty stomach took that moment to make its presence known. "You’ve missed your calling, you should have been a comedian, not a doctor." I stuck out my tongue at her. That action resulted in another pillow thrown in my direction. "Ha, you missed; you’re seriously out of practice." As I was turning on the shower, I heard a deep, throated groan coming from the bedroom. The sight of my sleep rumpled, bedraggled lover was grounds for an all out belly laugh, but I knew better than to tempt fate. "You do know your T-shirt is on inside out don’t you?" The withering look I received from Becca prompted me to duck into the shower, and hope I would survive to see breakfast. "Just trying to be helpful," I mumbled. "I heard that," my angel replied. The next thing I knew, I had company in the shower. I felt tender, loving hands run over my shoulders, down my arms and around to lightly cup my breasts. My nipples reacted immediately by becoming hard and erect. Large palms covered the protruding nubs and began a tortuous massage. The sensual, sexy contralto voice vibrated in my ear. "I’m sorry I’m so bitchy in the morning. I didn’t even tell you how much I love you." She growled in my ear and ran her tongue all around, and then inside the organ, before she grasped the lobe and nibbled and bit it. She moved down my neck to the point where it joined my shoulder and began voraciously to bite and suck the pulse point there. All the while she was assaulting my neck and shoulder, she continued the massage of my turgid nipples. All this stimulation went directly to my groin and settled exclusively between my thighs.

I had to get some control or we’d never make it out of the shower. And that’s a bad thing how? My little voice had a point, but I had an early consultation with a new patient’s family and their physician, referred to me from a colleague at John Hopkins. It wouldn’t do to be late; that creates a very bad impression, and besides Irish would never let me hear the end of it. "Playing ‘round in the shower again, huh Mac?" ‘Course the bruises on my neck should be a huge clue. Loath to stop this pleasant torture, I turned in my angel’s arms and kissed her with all the love I could muster. "Oh baby." Now my baby’s hands moved down to my firm ass and drew me to her center and began a wonderfully delicious grind. "God, baby please, as much as I’d like nothing better than to stay here all day, we can't; I have an early consult this morning. I have to go; I’m sorry." Very reluctantly, Becca loosened her hold on me. "Oh damn, I know. Besides, I have to get to the studio and begin preparations for the gala this weekend." The deer caught in headlights look covered my face, and was a dead giveaway. "Don’t tell me you forgot. Oh Stace, you promised; if you took on weekend duty at the trauma clinic, so help me…" I was in deep shit, but it wasn’t the first time.

Chapter 12: You’re a Real MD Now Graduation May 1977

"Honey, if you don’t hurry up, we’re going to be late. This is the last time I’m going to warn you." Yadda Yadda Yadda. In a flash, the covers we unceremoniously torn from my grasp, exposing my nakedness. I clutched blindly to return them to once again warm my suddenly freezing body and covered my throbbing, pain filled head with the pillow. "I don’t care if we’re late; I’m not getting out of this bed ever," I groaned. My lover would never make a good doctor; her bedside manner leaves a lot to be desired. Again she ripped the covers from my body unsympathetically. "Look, no one forced you to try to drink virtually every bar dry between here and Bethesda. Now you are about to be graduated from medical school, with honors, I might add, so get up, get spit shined, and lets be on our way." More like with a screaming hangover than honors. Can you get a medical degree in hangovers? If you don’t shut up, I won’t be responsible for my actions. Ooooo, I’m so scared. Well it wasn’t my fault; it was Irish and her cronies. "C’mon, what are you afraid of, just one little drink. It won’t kill ya." I think if I just died, I’d feel better. "Stacey Lynn McGregor! I have a tall very cold, ice cold, glass of water here with your name on it. Do you want it in you or on you, your choice." That doesn’t sound good. "Alright, I’m up, I’m up." Warm arms brought me into a warmer, soft chest. "Here take these, drink this, get in a nice warm shower, and then come into the kitchen, your breakfast will be waiting, love you." After the aspirin and the hot shower, I felt a little more human. I stumbled into the kitchen assaulted by the smell of sausage and cheese omelets, my favorite, juice, and strong black coffee. "God I don’t know how the old man could drink like he did. Evidently, he never suffered from killer hangovers from hell." My lover chuckled, brought me a cup of coffee and kissed the top of my head. "Now you know, the fruit of the vine can be deadly." Oh Lord, I promise if you get me through this day, I’ll never drink again, I swear. My only conciliation was that I hoped Irish felt just as bad, or, hopefully worse.

Sure enough, when we got to the University of Maryland Field House, where the graduation would take place, I found Irish, as green as a four, leaf clover, leaning heavily on Officer Gil Warren. Yes sir, there is justice in the world after all. There was a small entourage of friends and family already waiting in the parking lot where we agreed to meet. I couldn’t believe the assemblage awaiting our arrival. I expected Harley and Angie, and a few of the folks from the hospital, but never, in a million years did I even so much as an inkling "The Admiral" and his wife would be there. Now dealing with Harley and Angie was one thing, but somehow, Angie convinced The Admiral and his wife to come to my graduation, dealing with them was an all together different think. My tact has never been my strongest selling point, and with the way I was feeling I made no guarantees. And my patience would be severely put to the test. Admiral and Mrs. Lindsey stood near a chauffeured driven limousine. The Admiral looked had a disgusted, bored to tears look plastered all over his face. "Finally, the woman of the hour has graced us with her presence. Now may we please get this affair over with?" Everyone’s head seemed to be attached by the same string; we all turned at once to glare at the Admiral. The warning signs were setting alarms off all over the place, and I couldn’t believe what I was witnessing. Harley was about to jump all over the good admiral. Not that he was angry, that didn’t surprise me, but the fact he was ready to defend me did. I guess it dawned on him what it felt like to not be good enough to please your partner’s father, in that we were kindred spirits. The only thing saving Admiral Lindsey from sure decapitation was the timely intervention of Mrs. Lindsey. "Robert, really, that remark was extremely uncalled for, please apologize this instant." Never one to miss an opening, my Becca jumped on the "save the new doctor bandwagon." "Yes grandfather, it wasn’t Stace’s fault we’re late, I couldn’t find my shoes." Your shoes; quick thinking my dear. Remind me to never rely on you for quick repartee. Oh my God, can things possibly get any worse? Anyway, the little caravan made their way to the assigned seats in the field house, while I separated from the group and headed toward the graduate staging area to get prepared for the next step benchmark in my life. My angel remained behind. I was encircled in an affectionate, loving embrace; a tender kiss touched my forehead. "Do you have any idea how much I love you, and how proud I am of you at this moment?" Thank you seemed sorely inadequate, but… "I know. I love you too, and thank you for staying with me through all of the…stuff…I better get going. See you soon. Oh you better keep old iron britches away from the ex-marine; I don’t think there’s any love loss there." My baby rolled her eyes. "Don’t I know it. Later."

The one thing about graduations, they’re no picnic, for anyone involved, graduates or attendees. The things are usually held in closed in poorly ventilated buildings packed to the rafters. The proceedings drag on undeterminably, and it doesn’t matter if your name starts with A or Z you’re stuck there for the duration. Probably those suffering the most were Irish and I, in no small part, due to our hangovers. Besides that unfortunate circumstance, I had the additional burden of having to spend the day with "The Admiral". Oh Yee Haa! Mercifully, the function ended, and we all filed out of the building into the cool Maryland spring evening. We had reservations at a restaurant in Baltimore called "The Lobster Inn" that had the best seafood on the East Coast. Rachel and the guys from the hospital took Becca and I there to celebrate my reinstatement after the Faraday incident. The Inn was a really nice place, not too fancy, but should easily satisfy even the snootiest individual, The Admiral notwithstanding. I had to admit. The lengths my friends went to, in order to show their pride in my accomplishment overwhelmed me. They even went so far as to rent the entire restaurant for the evening. "C’mon Mac, let’s hear a speech." Irish I may kill you. "Yeah doc, we want to hear from ya, what’s the matter, cat got your tongue," Barb Foster hollered. Soon, the entire room was filled with loud voices chanting, and fists pounding on tables. "SPEECH! SPEECH! SPEECH!…" Everyone of these people would pay dearly for this, I vowed. Me thinks thou dost protest too much…you know you love this.

"Okay! I really don’t know what to say to you, my friends. All of you have own part of this," I held up my diploma. "Unless you’ve never been involved in trying to earn a degree, you have no idea how many people it takes to finish. All of you have loved and supported me more in ways for which I can ever repay you. But one person, and one person only, has been my rock, my safe harbor. My soul mate, my wife, my lover, and if I lived to be thousand, I’ll will never give her what she truly deserves. I love you my angel." My soul mate’s eyes met mine; neither of us tried to stop the tears coursing down our cheeks. For a moment, I was lost in those limpid pools and I never wanted to find my way out, ever. I raised our joined hands and kissed hers sweetly. It took Harley’s feigned coughing fit to bring me back to the task at hand. "Finally, I would like to thank you for your gifts. Mom, Dad, every time I write an order, I’ll think if you, this pen in beautiful. But the most precious gift you’ve given me is my Becca, and for that gift, there are no words. Admiral and Mrs. Lindsey, thank you for this check, and if it’s all right with you, Becca and I have decided to put the money to good use. I guess now is as good as time as any to tell you what we’ve planned. I’ve decided to create a new Pediatric Trauma Unit in Los Angeles. Becca has contributed some money; I finally gave up and let her, since she wouldn’t take no for an answer." Harley’s eyes lit up at my admission. "So you finally figured it out, huh, smart…" Angie’s well-placed elbow in Harley’s ribs stopped him from completing his sentence. The Admiral released an exasperated sigh. "Yeah Harley, have you?" The little group of friends roared with laughter, and Harley felt duly rebuked. "Now if I may continue. The money I inherited has been working for the last couple of years, and that will be added to the pot. Dr. Brenninger kicked in, and to our surprise, so did Dr. Everett." Joel Hanson shouted from were he as sitting. "It’s probably a bribe to keep you from coming back and upsetting his apple cart." Everyone’s a comedian.

Undaunted, I pressed on. "Everyone who contributed will have a bronze plaque with their name engraved on it on prominent display in the foyer. Becca has kindly volunteered to do the artwork." Ha, that should keep the pompous old goat happy. "Becca has also donated a bronze sculpture of Jesus with little children, and on the base it’ll read ‘...suffer the little children to come unto me’. The statue will be unveiled in a ceremony at the opening of the Trauma Center as well. Rachel has given me the most astonishing gift. She has resigned her position here at John Hopkins to join our fledgling undertaking in sunny California." Rachel fired back. "Oh don’t worry doctor, it’ll cost you believe me." Everyone laughed at that remark. "Incidentally," Rachel continued, "Irish is coming along too, but you’ll have to decide whether that’s a blessing or not." Irish and Officer Warren looked at each other. "Well, that’s just fine, but if ya want me, ya have to take him too, ‘cause we a matched set. Maybe Gil can be head of security." Joel couldn’t ignore the opening. "Naw, he can be the zookeeper, ‘cause with this bunch, you’ll need one."

While I was giving my little speech, I hadn’t noticed that Art had surreptitiously disappeared. When I looked up, he was standing at the bank of the room. Next to him was a small, frail women dressed in a simple, faded, worn, but clean, blue house dress and gray cardigan sweater. With her were two small, blond children. It took a moment, but then I recognized who she was. Suddenly, my mouth and throat were dry as the Sahara, and my heart was beating erratically: Mrs. Faraday. My family and friends followed my gaze, curious as to what had caused my expression to change so dramatically. One of the little children was carrying a stuffed teddy bear, worn, obviously, from many little hands cuddling, and dragging it from room to room. How many children did this scruffy little bear bring comfort to over the years? Hesitantly, with his mother’s urging, the little boy moved forward.

"We want ya ta have this here bear?" he asked timidly. The little boy looked to his mother for assistance.

"It was Casey’s. You should have it as a remembrance, and a way ta say thanks for what ya tried to do for my little baby." There was hardly a dry eye in the place. Even the Admiral seemed moved. I knelt down in front of the little boy.

"What’s your name darlin’?"

"Tyler, folks calls me Ty."

"I see Ty. How old are you Ty?" I was wondering if I’d get more than three or four words at a time from him.

"Seven." Nope, okay. Before I could speak, he thrust the bear toward me. "Ya want this or not? It ain’t much, just and ol bear."

"Ty, I would be very honored to accept Casey’s bear. This is the most valuable gift I have ever received. And now I’d like to do something for you." Mrs. Faraday started to speak, but I held up my hand to forestall any further objection. "Becca and I have been trying to think of a name for our new Trauma Center, but haven’t had any luck. But now, with your permission, I’d like to call it the Casey Faraday Pediatric Trauma Center and Hospice." The entire room erupted in applause. I again held up my hand asking for quiet. "Mrs. Faraday, what do you say?" Mrs. Faraday could no longer hold back the tears. She took knelt down to be eye level with her children.

"What do y’guys think? Do ya think Casey would like that?" Both kids hugged their mom and nodded their heads emphatically. "Doc, my kids and me ‘id be honored if ya used by baby’s name in your clinic." I felt a tug on my pants leg, and looked down into soft brown eyes.

"What’cha gonna do with Skeeter?" a timid little voice asked. "Ya gonna give him ta your kid?" My kid, I wish.

"What’s your name, sweetheart and how hold are you?" You’re learning Doc.

"Lilli. I’n fre."

"I don’t have any children yet Lilli, so how about if I take Skeeter to the Trauma Center and keep him there." She looked a little dubious at my suggestion.

"He won’t be lo’sum, will he?" I tried to be reassuring.

"No sweetheart, there will be people to visit him everyday, and he will have a very important job." Her eyebrow raised in question.

"He’s too young ta haf a job." This kid’s too bright for you Doc.

"Actually, he’ll spend all this time with little boys and girls who are sick and might be afraid to stay in the hospital by themselves. Sketter’s job will be to cheer them up and keep them company." This seemed to satisfy her.

"K, I guess that’s a’right." While I was engaged in my conversation with Lilli, Tyler’s eyes were drawn to the dessert cart the waiter just wheeled past him. It didn’t take long for Lilli’s eyes to be attracted by the assorted wondrous sweet treats. A deep gruff voice brought them both up short.

"Hey, you two kids see something you like, c’mere…"

The two children and Mrs. Faraday were boisterously drawn into our assorted, motley group of friends and family. I found myself apart from the group, looking down at a scruffy, bedraggled, dog-eared little stuffed bear who had become a symbol for a small little child whose body had been battered and broken, and her life had been brutally snuffed out by an abusive parent. She had been chalked up as just another statistic, by a society that didn’t want to admit such a thing could happen in the land of plenty. But I knew differently, and reaffirmed my vow, on this little bear, that as long as I was alive, I wouldn’t just stake up space, I would do whatever I could to alleviate the suffering and protect those innocents who couldn’t protect themselves. It was during my reverie, that I noticed the Admiral and Mrs. Lindsey in conversation with my angel. I walked over to where they were standing.

"…I think you should be talking to Stace about this." My angel moved to my side, but slightly behind me, and put her arm around my waist.

"What’s going on," I asked?

"Actually, I was just telling Rebecca Marie…" Mrs. Lindsey gave Robert a slight push. "…about the check I gave you." Why, that miserly old son of a bitch, somebody ought to...

"Sure, here, you can have it back, I…" He stopped me in mid sentence.

"No that’s not what I wanted to say. Here, you may want to add this to the first one…" This was probably the hardest thing he ever had done, oh not writing checks, I’m sure he does that all the time. No admitting that perhaps I wasn’t the gold digging, low life he’d always thought I was. "…I’m sure you can put it to good use. Now if you’ll excuse us, we must be going. I’m to speak at a symposium on naval strategy beginning tomorrow at Annapolis, and we mustn’t miss our flight." He paused and almost as an afterthought added. "Oh, congratulations on completing your studies. I’m sure you’ll make a fine doctor. Goodbye, Rebecca." He leaned down stiffly and brushed his lips along her cheek. "Goodbye grandfather, and thank you." The two elder Lindseys moved over to Angie and gave her the same perfunctory goodbye and left. Well wasn’t that special.

Chapter 13: Casey Faraday Pediatric Trauma Center & Hospice March 15, 1980

There isn’t a person on this earth that doesn’t have a pet peeve or two. Only two? Now there’s a hot one. Seriously, everyone has something they either don’t like or don’t like to do. In my case, that happens to be getting dressed up. I think I can count on one hand the number of times I wore a dress. Even in Catholic school, where uniforms were required, we settled on a compromise, begrudgingly, and my uniforms consisted of a white blouse, wool blue vest, St. Anthony’s Crest emblazoned over the left breast, and matching pants. Becca never let me forget about my haranguing the sisters until I got my way. She always wondered what I had on them, which allowed me to circumvent the dress code. Any-way, you get my point about dressing up. On occasions for which I had to dress up, I’d usually wear a tailor made suit. My point of view was simple: if you wanted me at the damn function, you’d take me in whatever I was wearing. If the soirée was too fancy for Ralph Lauren or Armani, then it was waaayyy too fancy for me. Regardless of these facts, I still wasn’t happy, and I wouldn’t go down without a fight. God why does a simple suit have to be so complicated. "Honey help, I can’t get these damn cuff links fastened. Do I look too butch? Why can’t I just wear boots and jeans?" God did I say how much I hate this? "Stace calm down, you look great, you always worry too much. C’mere, give us a kiss." Two eyebrows zipped up into dark bangs, and a lascivious smile crossed my baby’s face. The kiss was soft and gentle. "That was just what the doctor ordered." My baby groaned, "Do you know how lame that sounds?" I chuckled heartily; "Yeah, but I’ve always wanted to say that." My baby took my arm and led me to the front door. I can’t believe it’s been three years, from planning to fruition, now one final ceremony and I could begin following through on my promise to two abused little girls. With those thoughts in mind, Becca and I climbed into the rented limousine for the relatively short drive to the Beverly Hills Hotel, where the scheduled $1000.00 a plate fund raising dinner was to take place. A thousand bucks a plate; these people have far more money than good sense. True, but they also get the chance to rub elbows with celebrities and other dignitaries, so to them it’s worth it, and the money will certainly go to a good cause. I had suggested extortion, rather than a fancy sit-down dinner, but Harley pointed out that me going to jail would be counter productive. So, I was left with no choice but to get all dressed up, but in my opinion, a circus is still a circus.

"Is it really necessary that we turn this opening into a media circus?" I was truly upset; of course, my angel knew how to handle my anger and insecurities. "Sweetheart, I know how much you hate these kinds of things, but in order to get the funding we need to get your center off the ground, we need to jump through the necessary hoops. This dinner is one of the hoops. But you’re worrying over nothing, you’ll have all these stuffed shirts eating out of your hand in no time." Now who’s kidding whom here? "No baby, that’s your department. You, with those beautiful blue eyes, long raven hair, your low sexy voice, and the drop dead gorgeous body ready to con the good old boys into turning over everything they own just for one of your gorgeous smiles. I’m just apt as not to alienate them all with one glare, tell them all to go to hell, and blow the whole thing out of the water."

One good thing did emerge from these formal gatherings: Harley and I bonded. He didn’t like these things any better than I did, but because he’d never hear the end of it from both Angie and Becca, he came along. Usually after about ten minutes of schmoozing, which was a record for both of us, we sought out the bar and sat nursing one glass of scotch for several hours. In an hour or so, Irish would join us; she too filled to the brim with the politics of medical fundraising, and a few shots good, Old Irish Whiskey. My angel and Angie, however, were in their element. In the Stewart family, Angie’s mother’s maiden name, young children cut their teeth on raising funds for anything from school levees to senatorial and presidential campaigns, and everything in between. I’ve determined those kinds of skills are genetic as well. There is a certain skill required to schmooze and grease the right palms for the greater good. Frankly, I always feel dirty when I’m through with one of these things. My angel, on the other hand, is right at home with the upper crust of society, the beautiful people. She dazzles them with her grace, beauty, and charm, and as stated earlier holds the deed to the ancestral family estate before the owner knows it’s gone. What’s more, he doesn’t even care that he’s lost the farm. Watching my baby was worth the price of admission.

"She’s really something isn’t she?" I watched her in action; she had me mesmerized.

"Yup, I really have to agree, but I can’t take credit, Angie’s genes are responsible for that."

"What’re you guys looking at?" Irish and Gil joined in our conversation. "You have to ask? She’s really on a roll." Gil kidded his wife. "Careful buddy boy, you could be sleepin’ on the couch if you

keep on. And stop droolin’, it’s disgusting; a man your age. You’re old enough to be her old man." Irish gave Gil a playful slap in the belly. "Ow, what’d ya do that for? I didn’t do anything. Besides, I’m married, not dead," he said softly. "Ow, dammit, why are you hitting me? Don’t you doctors take an oath or somethin’ that says ya can’t hit people." This after I slugged him in the arm. "No, and even if we did, it wouldn’t apply in this case. That’s my wife you’re ogling." Harley couldn’t resist entering the friendly goshing as he slapped Gil upside the head. "And don’t forget, she’s my daughter, and I’m more dangerous that these two put together…" Irish and I gave him a withering glare. "…or maybe not." I kind of felt sorry for poor Gil. "Okay, jeez, I get the picture, lay off already." Irish took pity on the hapless ex Baltimore police officer, turned security chief, and kissed him passionately. "Oh god, what a visual, why don’t you two get a room!" Dr. Rachel Donnovon, Pediatric Unit Director, best friend, and my medical colleague walked over to join our ever, growing group. Everyone laughed, and Gil had the good manners to blush, but Irish wasn’t even phased. She dressed the young doctor down in her finest, thickest, Irish brogue. "Listen here ya young squirt ya, when ya get to be our age, we don’t get embarrassed easily, and if ya don’t like it, don’t watch." Rachel liked Irish as a friend, and respected her nursing skills, so responded accordingly. "Yes ma’am." Yes! I love it when someone else, even shorter than me is being harassed because of their stature. But there was a far more serious danger approaching, and thank God Harley, at least, was more aware of his surroundings than was I. "Hey, look alive, here she comes."

Here she comes indeed. She walked, scratch that, she slunk, slithered toward me, the predator zeroed in on its prey. Her black strapless, gown left her shoulders and arms bare, and was slit up one side to reveal a tantalizing length of leg. She wore small, gold hoop earrings, and matching upper arm bracers. My baby’s hair was worn down to hang loosely around her shoulders. She was a sight to behold; she was indeed breathtaking. The scene could be likened to a cobra and a hapless mongoose locked in an age, old battle for survival. Occasionally, the mongoose wins, but more often than not he succumbs to the hypnotic gaze of the cobra. I felt like that mongoose, I knew what she wanted, and I should put up some sort of resistance, if only to keep my pride in tact, if nothing else. You’d better make up your mind; she’s almost here. Huh, oh yeah. All right, pride is good. My baby sidled up to me, ignoring everyone else present. She whispered provocatively in my ear. "It’s time." She sexily nibbled and licked my ear lobe and the action sent a shot of electricity directly to my groin. What the hell I give in, I surrender. My baby linked my arm through hers and led me forward. People fell away from her much like stalks of grain before the reaper’s scythe. My angel worked the crowd, as would a conqueror, which controlled every aspect of their lives, and they allowed it to be so, even welcomed the control. With an almost imperceptible nod of her head to the left or right, she acknowledged those people who could do us the most good in the bankroll department.

Our linked arms and fingers left nothing to the imagination as to the relationship we enjoyed. Now, lest you happen to be wondering if we’d lost our minds, by openly engaging in such a blatant PDA, in the face of prejudice or downright disgust toward same sex relationships, the answer was simple. We just didn’t care what people thought or how they felt about us. They would either take us as we were or not at all. Understand this, we didn’t cram our sexual preference down people’s throats, but hand holding or kiss on the cheek was something heterosexual couples did all the time without giving it a thought, and so would we. With everything I’d been through, as a child, and watched so much pain and loss among the innocents, I decided, we both did, to latch on to every bit of happiness possible. I’d be damned if I’ll be laying on my deathbed reliving all the coulda, woulda, shouldas in my life. I’ll have enough of those opportunities in other areas, I’m sure. Before I could shake myself out of my reverie, and pay attention to business, my lover’s beautiful voice filled the air.

"Ladies, gentlemen, family and friends, we are so very thankful you all could be here tonight, and we dearly appreciate all your hard work and support in this endeavor. But this new trauma center would have never gotten out of the fantasy stage if it weren’t for the tireless, Herculean efforts of my lifelong partner, Dr. Stacey McGregor." There was a polite smattering of applause, until a course, loud shout came from the bar area. "All right, Mac you go get ‘em girl!" Suddenly, the entire room burst into thunderous applause and hoots and hollers, led predominantly by the motley group of ne’er do wells in the back. Thank God the Admiral, and Mrs. Lindsey, was no longer here to witness my moment of supreme humiliation. What the hell’s the matter with you, these people your family and friends, the one’s who have stuck by you all these years. You’re one of them, since when did you become so concerned about impressing old iron britches anyway? I really hate it when my little voice is right, fortunately, for me, it seldom happens. I collected my courage, forgot about my reputation and strode purposefully to the podium. My baby was applauding and laughing as loudly as the bunch in the back, and as I kissed her cheek, I warned her: "You know you’ll pay dearly for this." Not phased in the least, my angel whispered back. "Don’t make promises you can’t keep." Ah ha a challenge. "Who say’s I can’t," I growled threateningly. It’s now or never, I had no prepared speech, I work better strictly off the cuff. I reached under the podium and found what I was looking for, my baby never let’s me down.

My fingers closed around a scruffy, furry little stuffed bear. I brought Skeeter out from his resting-place, and sat him on top of the podium. Mrs. Faraday, and her children, Lilli, and Ty, our special guests of honor, were seated at the table with Angie and Harley, who had adopted Ty and vice versa. Lilli shouted over the murmurs of the assembled guests.

"Look Mama, there’s Sheeter!" Ty, the older of the two, clasped his hand over Lilli’s mouth.

"Shhh, don’t cha know it ain’t p’lite to yell in no fancy place like this here?" His voice was nearly as loud, in his admonishment of Lilli, as hers had been. Virtually all heads turned in his direction, and his face was beet red. Clearly he was mortified by his actions. Harley put his arm around the small boy to reassure him, and looked to me to bale him out.

"That’s right Lilli," I began, "Skeeter is a very special little bear, and he belonged to a very special little girl, named Casey." Lilli never skipped a beat.

"She was my baby sister." Ty buried his face in his hands, and wanted to find a hole somewhere to crawl into. I tried to ease his embarrassment.

"Yes she was Lilli, and Ty you should be very proud that Lilli wants everyone to know Casey was your sister. Don’t ever be ashamed to let people know who you are and where you come from. And don’t ever let people forget about Casey and for what she stands. Don’t ever hide your face in shame, you’re better than that." Ty raised his head and looked squarely into my eyes, and I continued. "Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends, I’m here tonight to celebrate Casey Faraday. She was more to me than a statistic, although that’s exactly what some people would relegate her to, because, you see, statistics, numbers are much easier to deal with. I found, you can make numbers, statistics, say anything you want. The problem with that is that sometimes, numbers lie, or at the very least they don’t tell the complete story. They don’t tell you what happened to Casey Faraday. They don’t tell you she was beaten nearly everyday of her very short life, and no one, who was in a position to help, did anything to stop the violence." I paused for a moment to take a drink, more to quench the rage beginning to build inside me, than my thirst. I gazed around the room. I had everyone’s attention, and more than a few deep pockets were squirming uncomfortably in their seats. My eyes rested on Mrs. Faraday whose cheeks glistened with tears. "I’m sorry," I mouthed, but I had to make these people understand regardless of the pain and suffering Casey endured, so I continued with her poignant, sad story.

"Casey died a horrible death at the age of fifteen months, I know because I was there. I was the attending physician when she was brought into John Hopkins, where I was a resident. She had massive head and abdominal injuries and other previous injuries to numerous to mention. Who might you ask could do such a terrible thing to an innocent child? I wondered the very same thing, and I was told, the person responsible for these horrendous acts of brutality, was the one person in the world who should have been this child’s protector, her own father. Arlan Faraday had been brutalizing Casey for virtually her entire life. She had been tortured like this since she was six months old. Her only guardian was this scruffy little bear, Skeeter. Her mother told me she couldn’t go to sleep at night without him. He was the only comfort this poor little child had, a simple stuffed bear. That’s pretty pathetic don’t you think?" There was a slight murmur of agreement running throughout the crowd. I wasn’t finished yet. "Casey lost her fight for life that cold December night, her torture over, the pain gone, and she died quietly. I made a vow that night, that not one single child, I had the ability to help, would ever die again. I reaffirmed the promise I made to another child, she too a victim of an abusive father, thirteen years earlier, me." Shocked whispers course through the air like electricity running through a wire, and shocked expressions covered people’s faces. But no one was more shocked than Wanda Faraday. It’s time to put them all out of their misery now.

"I didn’t want to be part of the abuse problem, I wanted to break the cycle, so I decided to open a trauma center and hospice where abuse victims and their families could have a safe place to heal both the physical and emotional injuries brought about by the abuse. That’s what the Casey Faraday Pediatric Trauma Center and Hospice is all about, healing. I’ve had to do a lot of things to get this center built, I’ve even had to learn how to schmooze." The crowd laughed a little. "Fortunately, I have someone I can turn to who is far better at that than I am." I smiled lovingly at my angel. "I’ve even went so far as to swing a hammer occasionally, which my Becca pointed out is rather dangerous thing for a surgeon to be doing." More laughter. "I’ve even gone so far as to beg for financial support from you, who are in a position to give. I’m here now, to acknowledge your role in allowing me to help keep Casey Faraday from becoming just another statistic. Oh incidentally, Skeeter thanks you as well because by completing the trauma center, he will have a home and a job. His duties, including greeting friends, family, and other visitors, the most important function he will perform is to sleep with and comfort other little Casey Faradays who come to our center for help. He thanks you for making this possible from the bottom of his furry little heart and so do I." The room erupted in thunderous applause and people began, first one at a time, then several, until everyone was on their feet. Irish and the rest of my new staff were scream-ing and hollering at the top of their lungs.

I tried to silence the crowd, to make an announcement about the remainder of the evening. Finally, I thumped as hard as I could on the microphone until I got everyone’s attention. "Please, please may I have you attention? My Becca and I would like to invite you all to stay and move to the adjoining salon for a silent auction on very beautiful works of art, fashioned, if I do say so myself, a very beautiful work of art, Rebecca Danforth. This is your opportunity to own an original work by a very accomplished artist, as you all know." Becca’s reputation as being one of the most remarkable new young artists, the art world had seen in quite some time, was rapidly growing. "You will be given ample time to view the selected pieces, but the auction will begin promptly at 9:00pm. I’d also like to announce that Becca’s art studio, Rebbeca’s Place, would donate all proceeds from the auction to the trauma center. Thank you baby." Again raucous laughter and applause filled the room. At last, I’m done.

As I stepped away from the podium, I was swarmed over by a crowd of well wishers wanting to shake my hand and congratulate me, for what I didn’t quite understand. I hadn’t done anything except get a clinic built. The real work for which I would be judged still lay ahead. I tried as hard as I could to reach my angel and the rest of my family, without busting heads, and was met by a pair of sad, weary, brown eyes. Mrs. Faraday took my hand in hers.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t have no idea. But I guess now I think back ‘bout that night, it makes sense, the way ya acted the way ya did. Arlan was a troubled, hurtin’, mean, ol’ man, an’ he’s where he’s s’pose to be now. I don’t think I ever thanked you proper for tryin’ ta save my baby. I want ya ta know I know ya did everthin’ you could, and my lil’ chil’s at peace now. Thank ya’ doc. For ever’thin’ ya done for me an’ my kids." I still felt guilty I couldn’t have saved Casey, and another voice reverberated inside my head. Told ya y’d never ‘mount ta nothin’, ya can’t do nothin’ right, ya never will. Ya couldn’t save that lil’ kid could ya? Listen old man; get the hell outta her head, before I kick your ass out. I got squatters rights here, out ya son of a bitch, out! Jerk! Thanks. Don’t mention it. "I only wish I could have done more." Mrs. Faraday shook her head. "Ya done more than no one else ever done. Now I better get m’ kids and get headed for our rooms upstairs." I turned to find two boisterous little children being packed around by "pony Harley". "It looks like dad needs to be rescued, that’s for sure." Mrs. Faraday looked confused. "But ya said your ol’ man abused…" I interrupted her to explain. "Harley is Becca’s father, in fact, he’s the one who put my old man in jail. He’s the sheriff in Bannock, where we’re from. He insists I call him dad, and I he’s too big to argue with. But actually, he’s just a big mushball, just don’t tell him I said so." We both got a laugh over that, and headed toward the jovial group back near the bar.

By the time we managed to slip away from the hotel and get home, it was 3:00am. I barely had the energy to crawl into bed, clothes and all. I don’t know how the beautiful people do it, when we left, the party was still going strong, and gave no indication of ending any time soon. I’ve been through marathon sessions in the trauma room and felt less beat up than from spending just a few hours at a Hollywood party. Didn’t make sense to me. "Honey, are you as pooped as I am?" I was afraid my wife would tell me no. "Yeah, I feel, as dad would say, ‘…like I been drug threw a knot hole backwards.’" Thank God, I was glad to hear it wasn’t just me. "Don’t you wonder how they do it. I mean Larry Gavin was telling me about the kind of sixteen hour days he puts in on a television set, then goes and parties all night long. How do they do it, I don’t get it." My lover returned from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, and moved up onto the bed where I was laying. Gently, she began removing my shoes, and slowly worked her way up, unfastening and loosening clothes as she went until I was naked. She began placing delicate kisses, licks, and nibbles on my skin as she worked her way up to lie along side me. "I don’t get it either, but you know what?" I shook my head slightly. "I have much better things to do with my time than worry about how the so called beautiful people spend their time." She arched both eyebrows and wiggled them suggestively, and with a wicked grin on her face, the cobra devoured the hapless, helpless, very contented mongoose.

Chapter 14: Sydnee Rene, April 1985

There is a time in everyone’s life when one event seems to crystallize and give meaning to that life. That one time when everything becomes clear, and we finally realize why we’ve been put here on this earth, and what it is we are supposed to accomplish. In my life, that event occurred on April 15, 1985. Now I know what your thinking, tax day; the IRS was the one reason she was put here! Well, if that were what you’re thinking, you’d be wrong. Besides, the IRS and I would require a whole story of our own. No the event I’m referring to was the day little Sydnee René came into our lives.

The trauma unit had been hell for the last thirty-six hours, and we finally had gotten a break. In the last five years, our Pediatric Trauma Unit has sorta branched out, due in large part because we were so close to the UCLA Medical Center. Both institutions shared knowledge, staff, and whenever necessary, beds. Whenever the Med. Center was overflowing, we took their overflow, as much as we could handle anyway. We were still relatively small, only 150 beds, and our focus, mission if you will, was still pediatric trauma, translation: abuse cases, and I refused to stray from that mission. Anyway what I’m trying to say is we got the reputation of never turning away any needy child. Our close proximity to the college campus probably leant itself to become the perfect candidate to trigger the chain of events that took place on that fateful day.

Rachel, Irish, and I had collapsed in the staff lounge behind the nurse’s station. Since I was the boss, I grabbed the couch, Irish, because it fit her rotund frame better, took the reclining chair, and Rachel was sprawled in a chair with her feet propped up on the table. The three of us were about asleep when someone knocked lightly on the door. "Unless there has been an earthquake, go the hell away," I growled. Rachel always the practical one shouted, "Wait, they may have food." At that instant, her stomach made its presence known. "My God, you got that thing trained to speak on command there squirt?" Damn, Irish you are too good. At that point, Gil poked his head around the door and questioned, "Anybody hungry? I bare sustenance for starving doctors and nurses." Gil carried a tray loaded down with French pastries of every kind and description. What caught my eye and specifically my nose was the large pot of coffee. Rachel’s newfound energy was miraculous, mention food, of any kind, and you have gotten her undivided attention. In the ten years since I met Rachel, I have never met anyone who could inhale food the way she does. Where does it all go?

Rachel’s 5’2" petite, yet muscular frame was always in perfect shape. She worked out regularly, and the occasional French pastry binge not withstanding, took excellent care of herself. She was impeccably groomed; her long blonde hair was always in place, even during the most harrowing activities in the unit. Her fresh scrubbed cherub face and sparkling green eyes belied a strong will and even stronger character. So she had a weakness for French pastry? I’ve often wondered if she has stock in vacuum cleaner company, or some fitness club. She attacked the tray of goodies like a pack of wolves attacks raw meat; it was simply amazing. When the dust had cleared, the tray had a lot in common with an elephant’s graveyard. A hedonistic groan escaped Rachel’s lips; she was totally satisfied. "My God squirt how do ya do it? Hey Mac, ya s’pose we need a code cart here, just in case she explodes." If looks could kill, we’d we conducting a wake over Irish’s lifeless body. "You think you’re pretty damned funny don’tcha Rafferty?" Irish glared right back. "That’s Nurse…." Thankfully, there was another knock on the door, this time more insistent than Gil's earlier tap. "Mac, I hate to disturb you guys, but you better come out here." Oh God, now what? Regretfully, and at a snails pace, I got up from my comfy position on the couch. "This better be damned good Chief." Our new nickname for the Chief Head of Security Gil Warren.

The sight that met me was the most beautiful, natural sight I had ever seen, one that had never occurred to me until this very moment. There, before my eyes, was my angel cuddling the most perfect little baby girl you could ever imagine. She was about four months old, and had the prettiest shock of silky blonde hair. Her shining, clear soft brown doe eyes gazed adoringly at Becca, and she had a death grip on my angel’s long black hair. Both woman and child babbled affectionately at each other. They presented the perfect picture of a mother and her child. For the first time in my life, I felt very, very sad, because it had never occurred to me that Becca might want a child. I had been so focused on achieving my goal of first becoming a doctor, and then keeping all the children I could healthy and safe from their tormentors. But a child, there had never any time to think about a family, and maybe that was because a child was the one thing I could never give my soul mate. I was torn from my thoughts by my lover’s voice. "Oh Stace, isn’t she the most precious little thing you have ever seen?" I had all sorts of questions running through my head. "Where did she come from?" Then a chilling thought came to me. "Where’s her mother, she does have a mother doesn’t she?" Everyone crowded around the nurses station suddenly found somewhere else to look rather than at me. "Deidre? You were out here, where did this baby come from, the condensed version, please."

Deidre had a tendency to go on and on when she was nervous, and she was definitely nervous. As if on cue, Chief came to the rescue. "Well Mac, ya see it sort of happened all at once. This young woman came in and asked if we had a bathroom she could use to change the baby." Diedre finally found her voice. "I took her back to use the staff lounge, you guys were zonked, and so I figured it’d be okay. I left her there with the baby and came back out here, and Becca was here. I started to wonder what was taking the young girl so long, but I didn’t want to leave the station." Now Becca continued the story, and I started to get a really bad feeling. "Deidre asked me if I would please go check. When I got to the bathroom, the baby was there with this note, but no mother." I knew it; I just knew it. Now wha’cha ya gonna do smartass? I’m not gonna listen to you, that’s for sure. We’ll see won’t we? "Let me see that note." In a shaky, scratching handwriting, the note read:

"Oh great, that’s just great. Well, first things first, let’s check her over and make sure she’s okay. Irish will you take her to Room 3 please." Irish reached out to take the child. "Sure thing doc." The child had other ideas. The instant Becca released the small infant, a deafening wail rent the still air. "One thing we know for sure, her vocal chords and lung capacity are just fine Mac." No matter how Irish tried to soothe the little child, she continued to cry. Rachel made her presence known, always the pragmatist. "Why don’t you give her back to Becca and see if she has better luck. Maybe she has a thing for cranky old trauma nurses." Irish glared and started to respond. "Ah ah ah, pay backs, remember?" I didn’t like where this was headed one bit. "Oh sweetheart. Shhh, its okay Sydnee." I’m in deep shit and I knew it, and Becca continued. "Ah that’s all right darling, shhh." It was almost instantaneous, little Sydnee René quieted and with one last hiccup went to sleep in my darling’s arms. "Let’s get her checked out before she wakes up. Deidre, get child services on the phone. C’mon nanny, you can assist." The next twenty-four hours were the most tumultuous Becca and I had spent before or since. But finally, a decision was made, a course of action laid out.

"Deidre have you seen Stace?" Becca asked. Deidre jerked her jaw toward an empty space on the desk counter where Skeeter usually sat. My angel shook her head. "I’m living with one big mushball." She chuckled, and made her way toward the hospice, where the pediatric nursery was located.

I stood there looking down into the crib where little Sydnee René lay. "Hey little one, I have someone here I would like to have you meet." I brought the little stuffed bear into Sydnee’s line of sight, and the little girl’s eyes tracked along my arm, to my hand where I was holding Skeeter. Her bright, trusting eyes lit up and her little arms reached out to take the scruffy, soft object. As I handed him down to her, I continued. "This is Skeeter, and he works in PR, that’s public relations. It’s his job to keep all the new patients here happy; you know make them feel comfortable." Ya know she’s three months old, she doesn’t understand a thing you are saying. Would you leave me alone? Of course I knew that, I was rambling on while I was bolstering my courage for what I had yet to say. "You see, you’re not really a patient, you’re one very healthy little girl, thank God. So I’m presented with a really tough problem. Skeeter is really needed the most in the trauma unit. Which is full of very sick, very frightened little children. It’s his job to go in there and tell stories, and hold them, you know stuff like that. And according to what the law says, you can only be here for a day or two, then Social Services will put you in foster care." Yeah, like that’s going to happen. Shut the hell up. "But, I have a solution to that too, if it’s all right with you that is." Sydnee was happily playing with Skeeter, investigating the mobile hanging over her crib, and playing with her toes; in short, totally oblivious to what I was saying. "The only thing I’ll have to do is convince Becca to let you come home with us."

The little form in the crib gurgled happily, and I was so intent on watching the little baby, I didn’t sense my angel behind me until I felt warm lips on my neck. "I don’t think that will require much convincing at all. Hello princess, how are you doing this evening huh? Who’s your new friend?" My lover reached down and lovingly picked up both the child and the stuffed toy at the same time. "Are you sure, I know how easy it will be to get attached to her, and we could be opening ourselves up to a lot of heartache. I mean this will only be temporary, until we find a good family to adopt her." My angel just looked at me, humoring my concerns. She knows me all too well. "Tell me you’re not already just as attached to her as I am. She’s already wormed her way into our hearts in just a few short hours. If we have to give her up, we will, knowing that for however long we get to have her she will have a home and two people to love her very much. Besides, I think the rewards are worth the risk, don’t you." I enclosed both females in my arms, and kissed them both. "I love you very much, you know that don’t you?"

Chapter 15: Bureaucracy

I realize there has to be some compromise in order to achieve one’s goals, you know, give and take discussion of issues, etc. As a result of the dialogue, a certain amount of paperwork is generated, and then there must be someone to keep tract of all the paperwork, and then someone to keep track of ‘the

someone’ who is keeping track of the paperwork. I think you can see where I’m going with this. However, somewhere is the overall scheme of things, I’m sure no one ever in their wildest imaginations foresaw how the resulting bureaucracy has gotten so out of hand. I had been on the phone seemingly for days on end trying to get through to someone, anyone who could make a decision about letting us keep Sydnee.

It had been three months since we took her home, on a temporary basis, and I was beginning to believe she would be graduating from college before a final decision was made. There had been a myriad of interviews with Social Services, hundreds of home visits, it seemed, and a background check even the perspective President of the United States didn’t have to go through. I was assured our backgrounds were impeccable, we were pillars of the community, and no threat to the security of the country, but still. It finally occurred to me what the problem was; we were gay. Two lesbians living together were not considered "the proper, normal atmosphere" in which to raise a child. I was fuming, and it was with those thoughts in mind, Becca, carrying our little girl, stuck her head around my office door. Instantly, Becca sensed my mood.

"Oh, oh, you not feeling so good today?" Little Sydnee, upon seeing me, reached out, her little arms waving them all around her. "Ma, ma, ma." My mood brightened immediately. "No, I’m fine, now. Come here darlin’. What brings you down to brighten my otherwise dreary day?" Becca smiled at the interaction between our daughter and I. Sydnee first dug into my lab coat pocket to play with my pens, when she grew tired with that, she latched onto the stethoscope around my neck. "Today is her sixth month check-up and time for her s-h-o-t-s." I chuckled at my wife. "Honey, she’s six months old, I don’t think she understands what a shot is, besides, we’ll make sure Skeeter is around to distract her. Did you find a good pediatrician?" I looked up to see Dr. Donnovon, and assistant, standing in the doorway. "Oh fair to middlin’," Rachel deadpanned, "would you like to see my credentials?" She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Jeez Rachel, put a sock in it, there’s a child present," I shot back, then continued. "Where’d you find your fuzzy assistant?" Becca just shook her head, she knew Rachel was full of fun, and she also knew there was absolutely nothing between Rachel and I except our friendship and, of course, our professional relationship. I relinquished the squirming child who wanted Skeeter more, than go to Rachel, but remember what I said earlier about compromise. "Hey sweet cheeks, let’s go see Irish and hide all her pens, shall we." Rachel howled with laughter and the child giggled happily as they headed out the door. Now that we were alone, Becca pounced.

"So, are you going to tell me what’s really bothering you, as if I don’t already know." I don’t know why I bother trying to fool a woman who has been my best friend, my partner, for more than twenty years.

"It’s about our application for adoption." I looked into my lover’s beautiful limpid pools of blue.

"Big surprise. So just what is it about that, that has you so upset?" I’m sure my expression was one of complete and utter dismay.

"What? Are you serious, don’t you know?" I was losing it. "My God Becca, what planet are you residing on? Get a clue!" My baby only smiled.

"Are you through?" She just doesn’t understand.

"Becca, dammit, they’re going to take our daughter away from us!" Still my angel remained calm. One of you needs to be, and obviously it won’t be you.

"Have you received something official to verify that opinion?" Opinion, my God, it’s a fact; they know it, I know it, why doesn’t she?

"Becca, I just got off the phone with Social Service." Becca looked at me expectantly, "And they told you, what?"

"Well, essentially, they said our out background was cleared, they think were wonderful people…" I hesitated. "…but, baby were lesbians." I didn’t want to hurt my angel.

"Okaaayyy. Honey, I don’t think there’s anybody in the whole world that doesn’t know we’re lesbians. So your point is…aaahhh, you think because were gay, Social Services will recommend we shouldn’t be allowed to adopt Sydnee." Finally, she gets a clue, but she still wasn’t the least bit affected by my near hysteria. "Yes, we haven’t got a…" Becca held up a letter to halt my ravings. "This is the other reason I wanted to come down here today. This letter was delivered to me at the studio this morning, by special courier no less."

Very hesitantly, I took the official looking envelope from Becca with a very shaking hand. The letter was addressed to both of us and began with the usual governmental verbiage. As I read further, I began to comprehend what the letter said:

"She’s ours…this isn’t…some…some bad joke. She’s really ours? No one can take her away from us?" To say I was totally astonished was an understatement. "I don’t understand…" Now there’s a big surprise. Why are you here? "Baby, sit down, calm down, and I’ll explain." Becca led me over to the plush couch by the window and gently sat me down. I was in shock.

"About a month ago, after a couple months of watching you slowly go crazy over the adoption process, I decided we needed a little help. So, I called daddy…" I jerked my head up from the papers I was holding. "You asked Harley…" Becca silenced me with her fingers to my lips, and the added incentive of ‘the look’. Then she continued. "…to see if he could do anything to help. I just thought he could talk to you and try to calm you down, reassure you. Little did I know to what extent he’d get involved. He talked to a marine buddy of his who was now an private investigator." I was incensed. "Harley hired…" Becca had had enough. "Stacey Marie, if you want to know the facts here, do not interrupt me again!" I nodded, truly penitent. "No one hired him, Daddy explained what we needed and Josh owed him a favor so he did a little digging around. The way daddy explained it, the first thing we had to do, to be on the safe side, was find the birth mother and have her sign papers giving up total rights to Sydnee. Once that was done, the rest was easy. Mom went to see grandfather…" I couldn’t help my explosion. "The Admiral was involved; God I can’t believe this!" Becca began tracing her fingers tenderly all along my arm to calm me. "Stacey, believe it or not grandfather is not the enemy, and in this case, he really came through. He called Senator Davidson…" No way. "No! Old right wing, fundamentalist, gays and lesbians should be deported to the moon, that Senator Davidson?" Becca nodded. "That’s right, the one in the same. Seems grandfather saved his life in Burma during the war, and then there was something about a Geisha Girl in Tokyo. Anyway grandfather made a call to Davidson, Davidson made a call to the governor, and the governor made a call to the State Director of Social Services, and there you are. Success."

I couldn’t stop myself; I burst into tears, and flung myself into my angel’s arms. The weeks and months of stress at work, plus the stress of maybe losing our child all came crashing down onto me. My sobs shook my body releasing all the pain and worry. My lover couldn’t stop her tears either, but hers were tears of joy, and eventually her loving embrace soothed my tortured soul. I could feel the stress and tension leave my body. We looked into each other’s tear stained faces, and our lips met and bathed our battered psyches with love. Snuggling deeper into my lover’s arms, I finally was able to speak. "I’m sorry I yelled at you, and I’m sorry I’ve been such a bitch lately. You’re the one person who is my greatest support, the one I should cherish and nurture, and instead I treat you horribly…" My wife silenced me with another tender kiss. "I understand, and I knew how much you were hurting; there is simply nothing to forgive. I know you would never intentionally hurt me, and I love you so very much." Another soft loving kiss followed. "I don’t deserve you, you know."

The kiss began to deepen, and I knew where we would have ended up, were it not for Dr. Donnovon and our child reentering the office. "Oops, looks like we interrupted your mammas doing the nasty. We better come back later; after we tell Auntie Irish and Uncle Gil." Since our privacy had been destroyed, there was no point in destroying it more by allowing Rachel to spread gossip all over the center. "Stop right where you are Dr. Donnovon, I cannot, nor will I allow you to spread vicious gossip. I am the Chief of Staff of this institution, and as such my authority in this matter will be specifically followed without question. What Becca and I do in my private office is no one’s business, and I will not have you impugning Rebecca’s good name. Is that understood?" I tried to use my most authoritative demeanor, and I think I almost had Becca fooled as well, but not quite. She whispered a warning in my ear. "This may backfire you know." I ignored her and continued. "Obviously, this is a matter than needs to be addressed with the entire staff." I walked over to her and took my daughter from her arms. Rachel was stunned. I walked past her and spoke to Deidre. "Deidre, please schedule a meeting in conference room one at 3:30 today, for the entire staff, this meaning in mandatory, and any off duty personnel will be paid for the extra time. See to it now. Thank you. Oh, Chief Warren would you be so kind as to step in my office please?" Absolutely no one moved; the shock was complete. As Chief entered my office, I heard Irish’s distinctive brogue. "What the hell was that all about?" Rachel, who had trouble forming words replied, "I’ll be damned if I know." Gotcha!

Chief was too nervous to speak, let alone even move. Becca relieved the tension, and took our child from my arms gently. "Did that big bad old momma scare my pumpkin? Stace, I think what you did was mean." I still wasn’t convinced I’d done anything wrong. I wanted our announcement about Sydnee to be a complete surprise, and keeping anything a secret around this place was like trying to keep water from running out of a sieve. I looked over to Gil. "Oh, relax, I want you to help me with something." Gil interrupted. "If you want me to do something to Rachel, you can…" I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. "Oh don’t get you shorts in a bunch. What I want you to do is help us get the conference room ready for a party, and I don’t want any of them," I cocked my head toward the door, "to know anything about this." It was obvious Gil was confused. "Becca and I just found out Sydnee’s adoption has gone through and we want to tell everyone at once, and since Sydnee came into our lives here, we couldn’t think of anyplace better to have the party." The war whoop that erupted from Gil’s mouth was loud enough to wake the dead, and I literally jumped in the middle of him, covering my hands over his mouth to stifle the noise. "Dammit Gil, that is no way to keep anything a secret. Now here’s what I want you to do…" The Chief headed out the door. "Hey Chief, wipe that shit eating grin off your face before you go out there. Not a word, ya hear me, and don’t go near Irish. She’ll have you singing like a bird in nothing flat." To say the entire staff was on pins and needles was an understatement.

Just before the appointed time, Becca, Sydnee, and I took the back way down to the conference room. When we opened the door, everything was just as I asked for it to be done. Gil and Gary Evans, the head of the maintenance department, were hanging the last of the banners. Becca and I decided we wanted this to be a birthday party of sorts. Even though it wasn’t Sydnee’s birthday, we would celebrate as though it was. It was the first day of our new life together, and the neat thing about it, was that when her real birthday came in less than six months, we’d get to celebrate again. "Chief, would you go down to the nurses station and ask everyone to come in please." He shook his head, "No way, I’m not going down there and have Irish hand me my head." My Becca smiled as she was settling Sydnee into her high chair and handing her a toy to amuse her. "You started this, now you finish it." Yeah c’mon Custer; lets go. "Y’know, I think you’re making way too much of this, I’m not afraid of them." You should be. I started for the door, then thought better of it, and reached for the phone. Becca chuckled, the two men in the room grunted simultaneously. "Hello, Deidre, we’re ready here, would you please have everyone come down. Thank you." Everyone was looking at me like I had suddenly sprouted horns. "What?"

Irish’s Irish temper was boiling. "What ever this is all about, squirt, don’t you worry, ya won’t go down alone. Rachel was truly touched. Despite their combative nature, the two women had a genuine love and concern for each other, borne entirely from their respect for each other’s medical expertise. "I honestly think you mean that Irish, I’m sincerely touched." She leaned over and kissed Irish’s cheek. "Hey knock it off, I ain’t no damned dyke ya know." Rachel chuckled. "Irish, worry not, no one would ever mistake you for being gay. But don’t worry, I’ll handle Dr. McGregor."

I positioned Gil and Gary at either side of the door, and had then turn off the lights. When the doorknob began to turn, the two men threw open the doors, switched on the lights, and we all yelled, "SURPRISE!!!" My victory was total and complete. As the doors flew open, balloons and confetti fell from the ceiling and Sydnee squealed in absolute delight. The stupefied look on everyone’s faces was priceless. "Yes!!" I yelled at the top of my lungs. When the curtain of fog lifted from my surprised staff, and the realization of Rachel’s dressing down was a joke, another look took over their faces. Suddenly, it hit me; I was in deep, deep trouble. Rachel was livid. "Of all the cruel, evil, unwarranted displays…I have never been…why I ought to…" She was so angry she couldn’t finish a complete sentence, and I had a real fear she might actually do me bodily harm. Irish was no less angry, but fortunately, I was not her target. She turned on my security chief. "You knew about this, you were in cahoots with that…that…woman!" We did the only thing we could do under the circumstances; we hid behind my wife and daughter. "Becca…" She moved away. "Don’t look at me, I warned you this would backfire on you." All right time for total truth, and an adorable baby. Oh you dastardly coward, how could you use this poor defenseless child so ruthlessly. Easy desperate times, call for desperate measures; Churchill or someone said that once. "Now listen, I realize now I probably went a little too far, but it was for a good cause. I mean look at this face." I held up my smiling cooing baby. Oh yeah sweetheart lay it on thick. Tentatively, I walked toward Rachel and held out the happy little baby. "Be honest, if I hadn’t done what I did, how long to you suppose it would have taken y’all to figure out what was really going on." Rachel hesitated, her anger subsiding under the onslaught of the adorable tiny tot. "Well I guess, but if you ever do anything like this again, so help me I’ll brain you! Wait a minute, just what is going on here." I took Sydnee back in my arms, and stood next to Becca with the child between us, a perfect family portrait.

Before I could speak, the doors opened and in walked Harley and Angie, and even more surprising, The Admiral and Mrs. Lindsey were following close behind. I looked to my wife. "I have a surprise or two up my sleeve too ya know. Grandfather commandeered a government jet to fly up here from San Diego." Now it was my turned to be stunned. I fully appreciated at that moment just how much Becca’s parents and grandparents helped in our getting full custody of little Sydnee. They had every right to be here. Tears rapidly formed in my eyes at the magnitude of what I was about to say; it was almost overwhelming. I was a mother, responsible for forming the attitudes and behaviors of another human being. This small little person was now dependent on me to help her grow into a happy, healthy adult. In that instant, I was terrified, but undaunted, I carried on. "This little party is to inform everyone that it is now official, we are a family. Our adoption of Sydnee has been successful. She’s ours and no one can take her away from us." For just a second, the room was silent until the words sunk in, and then there was the loudest roar anyone could have imagined. The windows actually vibrated from the noise. Sydnee was the center of attention and she didn’t quite know what to think of all this fuss, but she was the perfect little guest of honor and laughed and giggled at the appropriate times when someone tickled her belly, cheek, legs, or feet. She loved the attention, and the doting grandparents and great grandparents happily took over her care. This had to be one of the happiest days of my life, surrounded by my friends and family members, celebrating the birth of a new family. But one of the celebrants wasn’t has happy as she should have been and it was my fault. I walked up behind Rachel timidly.

"Y’know your boss can be a real jack ass sometimes." I laid my hand gently on Rachel’s shoulder rubbing it reassuringly. "I am really very sorry for what I said, the way I acted. I was way out of line; I thought I was being cute, but as has Becca pointed out, repeatedly, I wasn’t; I was wrong. Will you please forgive me?" Rachel had every right to let me have it with both barrels, but she was above that, I hoped. "That really was a rotten thing to do, but I guess I’d have been pretty peeved too if our roles would have been reversed. But I meant what I said don’t ever do that again; I’ll have to hurt ya." She leaned in and kissed my cheek and we hugged to reaffirm our friendship. My angel had retrieved our little girl; I can’t get over saying that, our little girl. "Well do you have to look for a new associate, or is everyone all happy again." She jerked her head toward Irish who had Gil in a corner chewing his ear off. "I think Dr. McGregor has learned a valuable lesson from this, and I am so very happy for both of you, and this darling little girl will have a happy life now thanks to you." Rachel took Sydnee in her arms and instantly turned into a babbling idiot. Why is it babies have that affect on otherwise reason-ably intelligent adults? I left Becca and Rachel doting over Sydnee and decided it was time I sucked it up and went and ate crow. I can’t wait to see this; no wait, please don’t tell me… Yes I am and you don’t have to hang around and watch if it’s too painful to watch.

God I hate when this happens; why do these things happen to me? I saw The Admiral visiting, yes visiting, with Gary Evans, who happened to be an ex Navy Seal; funny how like minds attract. As I moved closer, The Admiral excused himself and met me halfway. I needed to speak first; otherwise I ran the risk of getting really angry if The Admiral said the wrong thing. "Uh…I…Uh. Oh hell, I want to thank you Admiral Lindsey for what you did for Becca and I. Without you help, we might not have been able to adopt Sydnee René, and that would have broken my angel’s heart; she would have been devastated. I just wanted you to know that’s all." I think The Admiral was genuinely touched, but he recovered quickly and pulled the aloof mask back over his face. "I was just glad I could help. The Senator and I have been associates, notice he didn’t say friends, for years, so it wasn’t any problem to ask for his assistance. It is gratifying to see the outcome was satisfactory for everyone concerned." Man this guy would give Mr. Spock a run for his money in the frigid department. Still, reaching out this tiny amount must have been very difficult for the man. So ya take what ya can get. You still here, thought this was too painful to watch. Well, what can I say; I thought there might be the smallest chance fists would fly, didn’t wanna miss that, y’know. I gazed around the room, at all the smiling faces, and was filled with all kinds of emotions, but the most prominent were peace, contentment, and love. There, take that, DAD!

Chapter 16: …And This Too Shall Pass, August 1997

"What’s the matter with that guy; I have never seen such a pathetic call in my entire life." Angie? "Yeah! Is this guy blind or what?" Please, Rachel. "I could do better than that with my eyes closed!" Not you too Chief? "Syd was safe by a mile, you jerk!" Harley, you’re a police office, is that any example to be setting? "Where do they find these umps, ‘The Helen Keller Home’ for retired umpires?" Irish that’s pretty tame coming from you. But the most strident voice of all came from my angel. Angel? "Of all the nerve, you otta be run out of the Umpire’s Union; they should tar and feather you, and run your fat butt right outta town; you are the poorest excuse for a human…oh shit!" The voices from our section of the grandstands were become angrier by the minute.

I hoped I would never become a typical ‘bench mother’, and rant and rave during any of the sporting events in which my child participated. I wouldn’t embarrass Sydnee by screaming at the top of my lungs about any negative event, which took place during a game. I would never have imagined, the derogatory comments spewing forth from the rest of the members of the family, and friends, assembled at the City League Junior Softball Tournament. Sydnee’s team was sponsored, I might add by my trauma center. The team members, and their parents, selected me as coach because of my experience in high school and college. Much to my chagrin, my little girl’s other mother, grandparents, and staff members were discussing the official’s ancestry in terms that would make a sailor blush. The most raucous was Irish. A more pathetic display of poor sportsmanship I had, as yet in my athletic career, both as a player and coach, failed to witness. And that’s pretty incredible considering my old man used to come to my softball games in such a drunken stupor, he cared very little what he said to or about anyone.

Sydnee was mortified at the behavior of the adults she looked up to and respected so much. "Mom can’t you do something; make them stop. This is so embarrassing; I was out!" I looked into my little girl’s eyes and realized she had not learned to tune such things as a rowdy, derogatory crowd, out while she was playing. That was one of the first things I had learned to do early on, for reasons already stated, so I could concentrate solely on the game, and what I had to do to play my very best. I put my arm around Sydnee’s shoulders and hugged her gently and winked. "Have I ever let you down before?" Sydnee’s eyes, full of admiration, fixed on mine, and she shook her head slowly. I continued. "And I never will. You just concentrate on the game, and let me handle that rowdy bunch up there, okay. Go’on get out there, short stop. We have a championship to win and I have some crowd control to take care of."

Immediately when my conversation with Sydnee was finished, and while the rest of the team was headed out to take the field, I turned around to address the crowd sitting directly behind our dugout. No longer was I the coach of a girl’s junior softball team, but the Chief of Staff of a major, nationally and world known trauma center. I pinned the major players in this sportsmanship debacle with my eyes. My voice and glare were cold as ice. "I have never been so ashamed to be associated with a group of people in my life as I am at this moment. You have managed, in less than two hours, to embarrass and humiliate a group of little girls, one of whom, for reasons I cannot begin to fathom, thinks the world of all of you, one most especially." I gave Becca a slightly more vicious version of her ‘look’. I do believe, in that moment, they all wished they could have crawled into a whole and died, only there wasn’t one big enough, in my opinion. I was far from finished. "If there are any more outbursts such as the ones which just previously occurred, I will voluntarily forfeit this game, which will eliminate us from the tournament, and you all can explain it to fifteen very disappointed little girls, and their irate parents. Think about it; it’s up to you." I turned on my heel and stomped off to the applause of the other spectators sitting in close proximity to the poor sports. When I returned to our dugout, my assistant coach, Gary Evans asked, "Don’tcha think you were a little hard on them?" I’m sure he was most concerned with his new wife, Rachel. "No! I wasn’t nearly hard enough on that bunch, my wife included!" I fumed. "Besides, they’ll get over it, and realize I was right." I hope.

The game progressed without further incident, and the score was tied at two each. It had been a defensive struggle, and it appeared the last team up would be the winner. The team we were playing was sponsored by a rival trauma center, one, that didn’t necessarily put the patients first. If the patients had either insurance or money, they’d treat you; otherwise, they’d turn the patient away, no matter what was their condition. If either the aforementioned insurance or money ran out, the patient was out, whether their health allowed them to be released or not. The team reflected their sponsor’s less than brotherly attitude; they weren’t the best sports either. That’s what bothered me so much when our supporters stooped to their level. We needed to be better than that. It was the bottom of the ninth, and we were up to bat. If we scored a run, we’d win; otherwise the game would go to extra innings. We had one runner in scoring position, but we also had two outs. Sydnee was scheduled to bat next. For her age, she had quite powerful arm strength which made her a natural for the outfield, but her quick feet and reflexes made her more valuable at shortstop. Not to proud, huh mom? Okay, okay, so she reminds me a little of me when I was her age. What can I say?

The pitcher for the opposing team was big, and had a wicked fast ball. She had been, at the insistence of her coach I’m sure, throwing her pitches as close to our players as she could. The point was to get inside our batter’s heads, and throw their concentration off. Not illegal, but certainly not too ethical, or an example of good sportsmanship. Her first pitch to Syd was high and inside, and the next was called a strike. With her next pitch, she hit Syd squarely in the side of the head. Her batting helmet saved her from any serious injury, but left her a little dazed. The ump immediately called time, and I rushed out to home plate to check on my daughter. I checked her over good, and raised my eyes to find my wife’s, looking worriedly at us both. I winked, and mouthed, "She’s fine." It was a good thing to, ‘cause the marines were about to charge the beach. Without mothering my daughter too much, I helped her up and got her settled at home plate again. "You okay?" I asked. She nodded, and I whispered in her ear. "She’s trying to rattle you. Calm down, look for your pitch, and just before you swing, take a deep breath, keep your swing level, then knock the hide off the ball." I gave her the thumbs up and walked back to my position on the third base line. The pitcher had a smug expression on her face, and I thought, kid you’re in big trouble ‘cause you just pissed my kid off big time. When the ball left her hand, I knew it was the perfect pitch for my little girl. Sure enough, Syd followed my instructions to the letter and sent a line drive screaming down the third base line sending the winning runner across home plate. The left fielder fumbled the play which enabled Sydnee to come all the way home for an in the bark home run. The game, the tournament, and the trophy were ours! Yee haw! Everyone in the stands behind our dugout screamed to life; cheers, applause, and high five’s made the rounds throughout the throng of supporters. I wanted the team together to give a cheer to the other team and congratulate them on a good game, even though I thought otherwise about their tactics.

Everyone gave the opposition a good yell, and the rest of the team hoisted Sydnee on their shoulders and carried her off the field shouting SYDNEE!! SYDNEE!! SYDNEE!! What happened next, happened so quickly, I couldn’t have stopped it if I tried. The huge pitcher had left her team and charged Sydnee, knocking her down and pummeling her with her fists. My kid is no quitter, but she was definitely overmatched. Still an ear-splitting shriek filled the air and the pitcher came flying off Sydnee like she’d been scorched. She had her hand over her ear, blood running down the side of her face. Sydnee had bitten her earlobe nearly in two. "That little bitch bit my ear," she wailed. "Yeah well that’s what ya get for beaning me with a pitch and then blind siding me with a punch when I wasn’t lookin’, ya overgrown ape!" The pitcher was finding out very quickly, she was outclassed, so she resorted to a vicious verbal attack. Big mistake, that one. "Yeah, but at least my old lady at some damn dyke!" With that Sydnee launched herself, landing squarely in the middle of the intimidating pitcher, knocking the air from her body, generating a loud oomph on impact with the ground. Sydnee was in perfect position, sitting in the middle of the girl’s stomach, to deliver punishing blow after punishing blow. "Don’t you dare call my mothers dykes, you dumb bitch, they’re lesbians, and I’m proud to have them for my parents." The pitcher had lost all her bravado and began to scream. "Get her off me, she’s trying to kill me!" At the risk of bodily harm from flying fists, I waded in to pull a very angry Sydnee off the pitcher. "All right, that’s enough, what’s the matter with you?" But Sydnee wasn’t finished, and charged in again. "I said, that’s enough, now I mean it." Syd was still fuming, and the pitcher was looking less and less belligerent. "Mom, didn’t you hear what she said, c’mon, let me beat her up some more." I had to admit; what Sydnee lacked in size, she made up for in spunk. She’s been hanging around her Aunt Rachel too much. But I remembered my promise about the cycle of violence, and put a stop to the confrontation. "I know, it’s not the first time, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. Besides, believe it or not, I’ve been actually been called worse."

By the time I had gotten the combatants squared away, the reserves showed up and surrounded the team and I. Becca and the rest of the family and friends arrived just in time, because this little altercation was looking to get way out of hand. Remember what I said about interfering parents? The other team’s coach and a few of the player’s fathers moved toward us. Harley, the ex marine, Gil, the ex cop, and Gary the ex navy seal all moved in to protect our kids. Even in his middle sixties, Harley was still a very imposing man, and the other two were no slouches either. Harley had retired as Sheriff in Bannock couple of years earlier, but still kept in really great shape. I could see this whole thing escalating into an all out brawl, which wouldn’t be good for anyone. Just then, "the voice of reason" stepped forward. A fine boned, petite woman, with silver, black hair spoke up. "I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m going to Garcia’s for some ice cream, and I would like all of you kids to go along with me, as my guests…" The defeated team looked at her expectantly. "…and I do mean all of you." A deafening roar erupted from some forty-odd kids. Angie raised her hand for quiet. "The only requirement is that you all apologize to each other, starting with you." Angie looked straight at her granddaughter. "Aahh Nana, she started it, why do I…" Angie would brook no argument. "Okay, you don’t have to apologize, if you don’t want to, if you don’t want any ice cream…" The lengths some children will go to for ice cream. "Ooohhh, all right, I guess it can’t hurt." Syd walked over to the pitcher. "I’m sorry I bit your ear, but ya shouldn’ta called my mom a dyke. You got a name?" The pitcher looked a little more penitent. "M’name’s Angela, but people call me Ange. You’re a pretty good player and so’s your team. An’ I’m sorry I beaned ya and stuff and called your folks names, but my old man always calls ‘em that." Why isn’t that surprising? Ange’s father squirmed uncomfortably, and Harley, Gil, and Irish grunted. "Well, good, now that we have this all settled let’s go get that ice cream. Oh Ange, by the way, my name is Angelic and my friends call me Angie, so you see we have something in common. This is Harley, my husband, and Sydnee Rene’s grandfather. This is Rebecca Marie, our daughter and Sydnee’s other mother." All Syd could do was roll her eyes and grumble, and Angie led both she and Ange away to the parking lot... The rest of us just stood shaking our heads in the wake of Angie’s performance. I grabbed Harley by the arm, and dragged him along. "C’mon marine, before they get all the ice cream for themselves." Always wanting to get in the last word Harley remarked, "I’m with ya, smartass." One thing you have to say about Angie: she is truly a blessing.

Our little caravan wound its way through the upper middle class neighborhood where the Bryant Park was located and arrived shortly at Garcia’s Ice Cream Parlor. Everyone piled out of the cars, and entered the shop. The proprietor, who had a keen business sense managed to purchase a building lot in this area, located near the park because of the potential for from the neighborhood kids. Not only did the park sport several baseball diamonds, but also several volleyball courts, tennis courts, and a public swimming pool. Kids traveling to and from the park stopped frequently for ice cream. Needless to say, Gus Garcia had an extremely lucrative business. Since this particular Baskin Robbins wasn’t too far out of my way from the trauma center, I stopped here often as well. And of course my softball team liked stopping here as well.

Gus had become a good friend, and sponsored a number of community activities for kids also, not the least of which was the Children’s Crisis Center, for battered and abused children. He volunteered a great deal of his time, and purchased the center a new, top of the line, computer system. The short, but impressively built Hispanic gentleman, greeted us exuberantly. When he saw the trophy his granddaughter Maria carried, he all but burst his buttons with pride. "Maria, chakita, look what you have! Come in, all of you, my amigos, some sit, we celebrate, huh, the coach, she is proud, no?" Wonder if the ear to ear grin I have plastered all over my face would be an indication? "Si Gus, the kids did really well; they played a great game. I wish you could have been here to see it." A look of disappointment crossed his face. Gus was raising Maria alone because his son and daughter-in-law, and their little seven month old baby were killed in a drive-by shooting when Maria was just three. When will all the senseless violence end? As far as Gus was concerned, the sun rose and set on little Maria, and he was a very supportive parent, he was always at school for teacher conferences and never missed a soccer or softball game in which Maria was playing.

But this time, he had to miss Maria’s game for the best of reasons. "Si, my little Maria, I am so sorry, but my manager, she was so close to having her baby, I could not have her working. She had a little boy, and she will name him for me. That is good, no?" Everyone applauded, and roared in delight. "Yes, that is good Gus, and congratulations. You’re not too proud are you?" Gus beamed. "Si, I am a very fortunate man, with my family, and my friends, and a good business. Si, I am indeed fortunate. Since we have such good things to celebrate, we will have ice cream for free, huh?" I knew there would be no point to argue; when Gus made up his mind to do something, there was no getting around him. "Okay Gus, thank you." We all stuffed ourselves with the assorted ice cream flavors Baskin Robbins was famous for, most Gus invented himself. Even Ange’s father, Doug Flannery, came around a little bit. At least he wasn’t ready to take anyone’s head off anymore. That’s because he’d have to deal with Harley, Gil, and Gary; maybe he isn’t as stupid as he looks.

It was time to head home, but before we left, Sydnee asked if she could invite Ange and her family to the barbecue we were going to have Saturday at home, and spend the night. I wondered if it was a really good idea, but my angel quickly pointed out. "Differences between people are never going to be solved if we don’t try. Sydnee’s generation is going to have to live in the world we leave them." Oh she was so smart, still. "Why do we have to make the first move?" Becca simply stated, "Someone has to; it may as well be us." Sydnee looked from one mother to the other pleadingly. "Please mom, Ange really is kinda nice." I was beginning to understand what Harley went through each time Becca asked for something when she was a child. Ya just can’t say no can ya. C’mon they’re just kids, what could happen? What could happen? Have you completely taken leave of your senses? Don’t you remember when Becca and I were kids? Okay, what the heck, in for a penny, in for a pound. "Sure, why not; it should be fun." Well it’ll be interesting anyway. Sydnee marched right up to Mr. Flannery’s car, with Ange in tow. Shyness will never be a problem for that child. "Excuse me, Mr. Flannery, Mrs. Flannery uh, we’re having a barbecue on Saturday at my house. There’ll be a sleep over for our team too. It’s a pretty big deal; all the parents will be there for the barbecue, and then usually a couple of the other kid’s folks stay too ta keep an eye on us. That’s a rule mom has. We sleep down on the beach, and it’s really private, nobody comes on our property. We have two big Rottweillers ta keep us safe. We really have a good time, and anyway, I would like Ange and you and your family ta come too." Ange tried to turn on the charm too, but her father wasn’t the pushover I am. "Dad, please, I would like to, and I promise I won’t cause no trouble. Mom, I’ll use my good table manners too." Flannery seemed unmoved, until Harley moved over to him. "C’mon, Flannery, lesbianism ain’t contagious if that’s what you’re thinking. They sure as hell ain’t predators." Mrs. Flannery seemed a little more amiable. "Doug really, Ange doesn’t have too many friends, this will give her a chance to meet more people." Flannery growled and said, "Yeah but what kind of people?"

That was definitely the wrong thing to say with Irish within earshot. "Why you old pompous, prejudice, mean spirited, poor excuse for a man. You’re not good enough to polish these women’s boots. You narrow minded small little man…I otta…" I moved forward before Irish made good on her threat. "C’mon Irish, he’s not worth it. I’m sorry Syd, I guess it just won’t work out." I took my little girl’s chin in my hand and lifted it so I could look in her tear filled eyes. "Why momma, what’d we ever do to hurt him? Why momma?" I didn’t know how to answer my little girl. What could I tell her about intolerance and hate? Things she’ll learn about all too soon, I was afraid, simply because she had two mothers and not a mom and a dad. "I honestly don’t know honey; I guess you’d have to ask him?" And ask she did; no fear in my kid. "Why Mr. Flannery, why don’t you like me and my parents?" What’cha gonna do now ass hole? "I—I, well it’s—I don’t know—I—guess no reason." Harley moved in closer and whispered something in Flannery’s ear. "There are only a few things I hold dear in this life: my wife, my daughter, even smartass over there, but that little girl has my heart and soul. When she gets hurt, I get really, really, nasty to whoever hurt her."

Flannery looked around the parking lot, at all the faces, and decided, discretion being the better part of valor, and since he was incredibly outnumbered, he’d relent. "Well I guess it wouldn’t hurt nothin’, just this once. I want you ta know one thing, though…" He puffed up his chest, and started to speak, but Harley was quicker. "And just what might that be Flannery?" Surprisingly, Flannery didn’t back down; I was beginning to think we might have underestimated him just a tad. "Me and mine don’t take no handouts from nobody…" Mrs. Flannery spoke up, "Yes, we’d be pleased to bring all the sodas. Doug owns a cola distributorship here locally." Well now there’s a really big icebreaker, free pop for everybody. "Si, Si. I will provide all the ice cream, yes?" Gus interjected. Great; pop and ice cream; we won’t need anything else. Wonder if among any of these parents, there is a dentist to fix all the cavities that will result from his bash?

The kids went ‘blitzzoid’ and I thought now was as good as time as any to start building bridges. I reached out and extended my hand toward Flannery, if not in friendship, at least as an indication of compromise. Hesitantly I spoke. "I appreciate your allowing Ange to come over. I’d hate to think these two couldn’t be friends because of their parent’s misunderstandings. Besides, it makes my Syd happy, and whatever Sydnee wants, Sydnee gets. Right kid?" I hugged my daughter. "Oh mom!" Flannery took my hand, and spoke. "Well, I guess I could try ta be a little more open minded, it’s just that where I come from, we don’t have no people like you." Figures, where do you live, Idiotsville, USA? I started to get offended all over again, until my baby put her hand on top of both Flannery’s and mine. She whispered. "It’s going to take some time, you know that, go easy." And it did, and I was pleasantly surprised when Doug and Edith Flannery became good friends to all of us. Ange joined Sydnee’s softball and soccer teams, and they have remained friends to this day. To say Flannery has now completely come to understand or condone our lifestyle would be a huge exaggeration, but he has at least come to respect our right to live our life they way we choose.

Chapter 17: January 1, 2000

The new millennium arrived in the McGregor household with a big bang. We were having a party, a celebration and a reaffirmation of the commitment Becca and I made to each other almost twenty-five years ago. I’ve referred to Becca on numerous occasions as my wife. Now I know those of you who are reading this know there is no ceremony in the State of California that makes same sex marriages legal. Who needs legality; in my estimation we’re simply dealing with semantics. As far as I’m concerned, in every aspect of our lives, Becca and I are married, and we need no piece of paper or decree from the government to make it so. We had our own commitment ceremony, just God and the two of us, under a summer moon, on a lonely stretch of California beach twenty-five years ago…

"C’mon, last one in has to all the cook all the meals for a week!" Becca sprinted off down the trail to the beach below. "Dammit Becca, that’s not fair, you’re legs are longer than mine." I was struggling to get down the trail in the growing dusk without falling. "Talk about not fair, you left me with all the stuff to carry, so don’t whine!" Yeah and it still didn’t do me any good. "I thought you’d give me a better race than that, you being the big college athlete and all," Becca said as she splashed playfully in the surf. Yeah, right, there’s a hot one. I saw Becca’s discarded bundle in the sand. "Look, I was a short stop, that requires short bursts of speed and quickness. You’re the long, lean running machine."

Becca came to Presnell with an art scholarship, but a friend suggested she try out for the track team as a long distance runner, and of course her lean muscular frame made her a natural for the sport. She had even tried out for the Olympic them in 1972, but an unfortunate accident killed her chances at the last minute. I decided to sit in the sand and pout. Would have worked too, were it not for the goddess who arose out of the sea in all her naked glory. Oh shit, I’m toast I thought. My lover slunk over to me like a sexual predator. "What’s the matter with my Stacey," she purred in my ear, "did my baby’s feelings get hurt?" She lowered herself on to my prostrate frame, her wet skin doing nothing to cool my overheated body. My angel’s lips began at the top of my head and began working slowly down, tasting every bit of skin available to her touch. Her butterfly kisses tantalized my body, and sent electricity straight south and settled right between my legs. Oh hell, why fight it, I already lost the bet. Becca was the one who had to suffer through my cooking for a week. If she felt guilty because she cheated to win, well then, who was I to stop her from trying to make me feel better, anyway she could. I lay back and let her loving ministrations take over my body and soul. "I love you so very much. You complete me, I could no more live without you than I could fly," I whispered. "Oh my love, I love you too. Please, let me love you, possess you, become one with you," my lover groaned. Was I going to say no? "Yes please, take me, make me yours." And there, on the beach, to the sounds of the sea birds and the sound of the waves crashing onto the shore, two lovers united their two souls as one forever. Several hours later, I awoke to the moonlight shining in my eyes, and the warmth of my lover’s body curled all around me. Her gentle breathing soothed my body and soul; I’d never felt such peace and contentment. I prayed to whatever god was listening to let Becca stay in my life forever.

Some minutes later, due to my gentle fingers rubbing her hair, back and arms, my baby opened her eyes, and blue met blue. "Hi." I gently kissed the top of her head. "Hi yourself. We should be getting back to the car, it’s getting late." Moving Becca when she didn’t want to be moved, was a daunting task at best. "Don’t wanna, and you can’t make me move." Humm, I’ll try the pragmatic approach. "You wanna risk making a spectacle of yourself if the folks, who live in that house up there, come home and find us on their beach, nekked?" My angel has a solution for everything. "No problem, we’ll just buy the house." Right, like an intern and a struggling artist can afford a house like that, and I said as much. "Baby, I couldn’t even afford the upkeep on a place like that." My lover would never let me doubt myself, ever. "Maybe not now, but soon you will, and besides we’re partners for life, right; we do things together." Partners for life was that even possible. In this day and age, it wasn’t the thing to do to stay together forever, and two women, loving each other. Not only was that unheard of it was downright despised. Besides, I wasn’t used to thinking in terms of forever. My forwardlike thinking was limited to the end of shift at the hospital, or until the next exam, or the end of a semester. "Becca," I asked in a small, soft voice, "You want to stay with me forever?" Becca was incredulous. "Stace, you’re kidding, right? Of course I want to stay with you forever; didn’t what we just did mean anything to you?" My angel was becoming hurt and angry. Damage control smartass. "No baby, please. Our making love means everything to me. You have no idea how special you are to me, and how much I love you and want to be with you; there are no words to express…I just…oh hell." I stopped to collect my thoughts. I reached down and pulled my lover up into a sitting position. I knelt down in front of my angel, took her hands in mine, and whispered:

"Becca, my angel, you are everything to me, my life, my love.

I don’t know what good I have ever done in my life to deserve

you by my side, but I thank God everyday that you are. You

I reached into our duffel bag, and pulled the ring I always wore on a chain around my neck.

My baby didn’t say anything for a minute, she didn’t have to, everything she was thinking and feeling was shining in her eyes. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft and low.

I took my baby in my arms and held her close for a long time. When we broke our embrace, I kissed her gently sealing our vows, and our bond. "We probably better get dressed and head back; we both have early days tomorrow. What d’ya say we go home Mrs. McGregor?" Becca kissed me lightly and whispered. "That sounds like a good idea Mrs. McGregor, I’d like to start planning for the redecoration of our new house." New house, what…I followed her gaze to the house on the hill overlooking the sea. "Oh that house; whatever you say dear." Silently I swore to myself, if she wants that house, I’ll move heaven and earth to get it for her, I promise.

…that seems like a lifetime ago, and maybe it was. Regardless, here we are in our house on the hill overlooking the sea; yeah, I bought it for my Becca, surrounded by our family and friends, about to christen this new century with the restatement of the commitment vows we made to each other so long ago. I can’t believe we’ve had the life we have. To be sure, there have been some rough spots, times when I thought I couldn’t go on another day. Dr. Brenninger was right; I had to learn to distance myself from my patients if I wanted to survive. I wish he could be here tonight to help celebrate our joy. But he can’t; he died, killed in a traffic accident involving a drunk driver, such a waste of a life taken too soon. Another loss… In his will, he left the trauma center half a million dollars to set up a trust to hire a court advocate for the children, to ensure we’d be able to continue fighting for, and protect those who couldn’t fight for themselves. Thank you Art. Finally dressed in my light gray suit, Armani no less, and matching shoes, I went into the living room where all our friends and family had gathered. Sydnee had asked for a fire, although fireplaces in homes in California are pretty much superfluous, even in the winter. But remember, I could hardly say no to my little girl; humm, my little girl. She would be fifteen in just a few months. She had grown into a beautiful young lady, a good student, and the star shortstop on her high school softball team. Yes sir, just a chip off the old block. Who invited you, I thought I locked the doors. Doesn’t work for me, where you go, I go. "Hey sweet cheeks. Where is your mother? She should have been finished dressing ages ago." Sydnee shook her head and laughed at me. "Mom, you should no how long it takes mother to dress when she really wants to make an entrance. I just checked her a minute ago; she’s about ready. And, if I do say so, you look pretty snazzy yourself. Oh hey, did you get it?" I fished in my pocket and pulled out a small black jewelry box. Inside, there were two small, golden hearts, molded into one, with thirty tiny diamonds running all along the inside of the design, threaded on simple golden chain. "Yes, I got it, I went into "The Jewelry Shop" on Rodeo Drive Friday and picked it up. Do you think she’ll like it?" Syd was mesmerized by the craftsmanship of the delicate piece. "Oh mom, it’s gorgeous; she’ll love it. Besides, you could give her anything, and the fact it came from would make all the difference. Hey, cool it, here she comes."

I was absolutely hypnotized by the beauty before my eyes. My angel was dressed in a floor length, strapless gown. The dress was cut deeply down the front, leaving little to the imagination, yet accenting my baby’s beautiful breasts. The dress was split seductively up the front to just above the knees. My wife’s hair was arranged into one single braid with a single golden ribbon woven throughout. She wore two matching gold upper arm bracelets, which matched the small hoop earrings she wore. Becca wore very little make-up; her golden tan made it necessary to wear just enough red lipstick to highlight her full, sensual lips. She had applied a light shade of blue eyeshadow and mascara to set off her azure eyes. I’m sure a full two minutes passed before I registered Sydnee’s voice. "Mom, Mom, Mom! Would you please say something?" A strong slap on my back finally brought me back from my trance. "Uh—oh yeah—I’m good." I cleared my throat, wet my suddenly dry lips, and knocked back the rest of the scotch I had been drinking.

"Hello darlin’, you live around here?" Suave, real smooth, ya clutz ya.

"Yes," my angel murmured enticingly, "but I’m married." Oh do ya wanna play?

"Is your husband the jealous type," I inquired over the rim of my glass.

"Very, but what makes you think my spouse is a man?" Becca growled in my ear. I nearly choked to death on my drink, and Becca had to pound me fiercely on my back. But I recovered quickly.

"So you’re married to a woman, huh? Is she a professional person?" It was my Becca’s turn to choke. But she too recovered rapidly.

"Yes, she’s very good at what she does." Becca’s eyes bore into mine over the rim of her glass. Is it getting warm in here? Our little game of seduction was interrupted when Harley tapped me on the shoulder.

"Judge Hansen is here to perform the ceremony." Harley warned in my ear. "Do you think you two can possibly behave for just a couple of hours. I swear you’re like a couple of rodents." Heh; once a father, always a father.

"We’ll continue this later," I growled in Becca’s ear, then licked, nibbled, and sucked on the lobe for good measure. Becca groaned in response, and the sound sent a message straight to my throbbing center. Rodents, yeah.

Judge Harlan W. Hansen was a retired superior court judge and sat on a number of hospital boards, The Mayo Clinic and Mt. Sinai just to name a couple. Currently, he was a member of the Board of Directors for my humble little institution, which had grown to 300 beds in the hospital, and a 200 bed capacity in the hospice nursery. I was quite proud of all that we had accomplished over the years, and was grateful for the legal advice Harlan had passed on to us since he had come on board. He agreed to conduct a marriage ceremony, and even though no legal authority would recognize it, the ceremony was what my angel wanted, and who was I to deny her anything. We took our places, Rachel and Irish standing by my side; Angie and Sydnee would stand by Becca. Harley would walk Becca down the hallway to stand in front of Judge Hansen, who was standing next to the huge glass wall that looked out over the ocean.

I could hear the judge’s voice, but I couldn’t tell you what he said. All my concentration was focused on my angel. Both blue sets of eyes were focused only on the person opposite the other. When it was time for us to make our vows and exchange our gifts to one another, neither one of us heard Harlan. Harlan had a reputation for his loud booming voice, while on the bench, and we were given a fine demonstration of his ample lung capacity. "If you two don’t mind, could we please get on with this, I’m hungry!" Okay, I get to go first.

"Becca, my love, my life. You came to me when I had nothing, and

you’ve stayed with me through the good and the bad. You’ve

healed my pain, and soothed my soul. We’ve lived and loved to-

gether and made a home for our daughter. God has blessed us

with so much: our family and friends, wealth and prominence.

But I promise you my love; I would give it all away for just one of

your smiles to begin my day. You are the light that chases away

my darkness; without you there is no hope.

I promise to love you, protect you, and keep you safe all the days

of my life, I will never fore sake you for another, for you own my

soul. I will love you forever. Please take these joined hearts as a

symbol of our love for each other, in this world and in the afterlife,

for all eternity.

I placed the necklace around my angel’s neck and fastened the clasp. The look in my lover’s eyes said all I needed to know. I wanted to wrap my arms around my baby, but I knew I had to wait for just a bit.

"Stace, my wife and lover. I knew I loved you the first time I saw you

standing defiantly before my father. I knew our destiny was to

be together for all time, in this life and on the other side. I love your

strength, your courage, your determination to fight for life when other’s

have given up. But more that than, I love your compassion, the gen-

tleness you show to the tiniest child, as well as the largest adult. Your

reverence for the preciousness of life is so beautiful. I love your gentle

soul and your warrior spirit.

I’ve chosen these rings as a symbol of us my love. Our love is

like a circle; it has no beginning and has no end. The circle is

exists throughout eternity. I will love you for all time, and I will

fore sake you for no other. You are the light in my darkest hour,

and you comfort me when I’m sad, and my soul and I my heart are

yours forever.

Becca took the ring, from the pillow Sydnee was holding, she chose for me and slipped it on my finger, and I did the same for her. With tears streaming down both our faces, we both spoke in unison. "I love you." And we kissed to seal or vows. A resounding, thundering applause erupted all throughout the room. With strength I didn’t know I had, I picked by lover up and twirled her around and around until we were both dizzy. We laughed until we cried; I had never known such joy. From out of nowhere, a glass of champagne was thrust into my hand, and the next thing I heard was Harley’s deep baritone voice filling the air.

"All right, everybody listen up. I’m gonna make a toast, and nobody better inter-

rupt me."

He glared at Irish, who tried to act as innocent as a newborn babe.

I started to say something, but the stereo system began to play my favorite song. Martina McBride’s "There You Are" filled the room, and I found myself wrapped tightly in the arms I wanted to be in forever.

The music stopped; an aura of calm permeated the air, the invited guests basked in the intense, unconditional love that filled this home. This sensation, one rarely felt or shared by mere mortals, was indeed one to behold. Both Becca and I were loath to break this connection and acknowledge our guests, but one must be a polite host, no matter how much I wanted to chase them all away so my angel and I could be alone. Oh buck up; do what you have to do! Ha! Easy for you to say! My love fuzzy brain registered a soft voice in my ear. "Baby, people are watching us." So your point exactly would be what? When she got no response from me, Becca tried again, "Honey, we have to stop; we have an audience." Oohh life is so not fair. "What y’all lookin’ at; ain’tcha had no fetchin’ up? Don’tcha know it ain’t p’lite ta stare?"

Fortunately my poor grammar had the desired affect; the atmosphere was lightened dramatically, and everyone felt less like they were intruding on a private moment. A further mood, lightening event was Rachel’s stomach growling loud enough to wake the dead, and her husband, Gary couldn’t leave well enough alone. "That’s my baby! The navy called me and asked if we could borrow Rachel’s stomach to alert carrier crews it was chow time." You think after being married for fifteen years, would clue this guy into Rachel’s sensitivity to her rather loud grumbling stomach when it’s in need of sustenance. Well you know; some people live and learn, and some people just live. "Hardy har, har. Everybody’s a comedian. But think about it, just where would you workaholics be without me to remind you when it’s feeding time. Had I not been around to save you, you all would have died from starvation years ago." Angie came to Dr. Donnovon’s defense. "Rachel is absolutely correct. Besides, Margie has prepared a wonderful dinner for us, and I for one, don’t plan to miss any of it." And as if on cue, Margie, our cook, housekeeper, and general all round, guardian came into the living room to summon us to dinner, in her own distinct manner. "I have slaved over this meal all darn day, and if you don’t want any of it, that’s just fine; I’ll haul it all down to the homeless shelter and share it with folks who’ll appreciate my efforts. C’mon darlin’, and you too Miss Rachel," who stuck her tongue out at all of us, "you can help me get this on the table; if they don’t get in here pronto, you and me can eat it and gossip ‘bout men and boys and such."

You can say what you want about Margie, but I’d be willing to bet in her day, she was a sight to behold. She spent a good portion of her life as a cook in college fraternities, sororities, and dormitories. My guess is, when she said jump, those college coeds just simply asked how high. Even now in her mid sixties, the rotund cook was quite intimidating. And since becoming part of our family, some ten years ago, she had become an integral part of our lives, and one who will be sorely missed if she’d ever leave us. Oookaayy, how do you want to handle this? Very delicately, that’s how. "Margie, you know we love and appreciate you very much. And we are looking forward to tasting the wonderful cuisine you have prepared for us." Irish, Harley, Gil, and Gary just looked at each other and shook their heads. "I haven’t heard such blarney since I was a kid and, my brother, Mickey lit the woodshed on fire while him

and his worthless buddies were smokin’ and tried to lie their way out of it." Gary nodded in agreement, "That is pretty pathetic isn’t it?" I was truly hurt. "Fine, you don’t wanna eat, you just stay out here and laugh. Me, I’m not too proud to humble myself and grovel when necessary, for the greater good."

Margie however wasn’t fooled for a minute, and she stopped Becca and I as we entered the dinning room. I thought I was toast, so I decided now would be a good time to include bridge mending among my many skills. "Margie, I’m sorry if I insulted you, but…" Margie held up her hand to silence my apology. Damn, I didn’t want to stop; it was a really good one too. "Stacey Lynn McGregor, you are so full of shit, your eyes are turning brown." Oooo, Margie never swore, I must be in really big trouble. "I just wanted to give you and your Becca this little thing. It isn’t much, but I saw it in an antique store window, and it reminded me of you two." I was genuinely touched; we exchanged gifts and cards at Christmas time and birthdays and such, but this gesture took me totally by surprise. My angel spoke, since I couldn’t speak due to the large lump lodged in my throat. "Margie you really shouldn’t be spending your money on us. This is very expensive, I know about…" Again our housekeeper stopped our ramblings, and tried to make light of her gift. "I’m sixty-five years old. What else am I gonna spend my money on if I don’t spend it on you and Sydnee?" I finally found my voice. "Thank you very much, Margie, this is very sweet." I leaned in to kiss her cheek, and she’d have none of that. "Well c’mon, dinner’s getting’ cold, and the natives, in there, are starting to get restless." I looked down at the intricately carved statue of two lovers entwined around each other in a passionate embrace. I could just imagine good old Marge goin’ into an antique shop to buy that, not! You can be really rude sometimes; you know that? The style was reminiscent of ancient Greek sculpting. The two might have been Sappho and a lover from that ancient time long forgotten, but the love of the two remained for eternity. Margie was right; these two lovers could very well be my angel and me.

The dinner began, continued, and finished without further incident other than the banter of pleasant conversation between friends and family. As the witching hour drew near, we all headed into the living room to count down the remaining seconds of the twentieth century, and welcome in the new millennium. Champagne glasses were filled, and at the appropriate moment everyone yelled HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!! We sang "Auld Lange Signe" and people paired off the dance, hug and kiss to the tune sang quite off key. The party continued on for another hour, but everything after the stroke of midnight was rather anticlimactic, so we called it a night, and said goodnight to each other.

With the three of us standing in the doorway, waving goodbye to parents, grandparents, and friends, I felt a wonderful feeling of peace and contentment flood my entire being. I felt complete, but as far as I was concerned this night was far from over. I had some unfinished business to attend to, very pleasant business. With that thought in mind, I addressed my daughter. "Okay kiddo, it’s off to bed with you. This is way past your bedtime." Sydnee was unimpressed. "Mom this isn’t the first time I stayed up this late; I’m not a baby. I’m not tired." Okay, try another tact. "Well I am, so off to bed, now!" Syd was still not totally convinced. "Ha, you and mother just want to make out, and you’re trying to get rid of me." Make out hell, I want to do far more than that, but I had to sound like the outraged parent. "Sydnee René McGregor, get your butt to bed this instant, and no more argument!" Results, ‘bout time. "Oohh all right, but it’s not fair." When will you learn life isn’t fair? Becca just chuckled. "I coulda used some backup there y’know." My angel smiled seductively. "You were doing just fine, and now I can offer so much more than backup." My soon to be lover took me by my hand and led me into our bedroom. Remember to stay in control if you want to implement your plan. Hmmm? Oh yeah right control. I can do that. You’re sooo whipped.

We entered the room and the sight that met my eyes amazed me. There were vanilla and spice scented candles lit and placed strategically around the room. Soft music played on the stereo, and the bed was turned down exposing fresh, silky satin sheets. When did she have time to do this? She was with me all night. The only other person…Margie…why that old…she and Becca were in cahoots to sabotage my plans. Well that was a moot point now because the intended affect was immediate and total. My legs turned to mush, and were barely able to hold me upright. I became a babbling idiot when my seductress wrapped her arms around me from behind and began to devour the exposed skin of my neck and throat.

"You are mine tonight," she growled. "You will do only what I wish. I will pleasure you as I want."

All I could do was moan, lean back into the loving embrace, and tilt my head to the side to give my angel’s lips greater access. My lover’s hands were not idle as she had unfastened the single button on my jacket, and worked her hands under the material to touch the bare skin underneath. Her long sensuous fingers manipulated my nipples and breasts as the artist she is molds a lump of clay into a work of art. Her hands left my breasts, much to my dismay, and slipped the jacket off my shoulders to land in a heap on the floor. Her hands worked their way down over my breasts and stomach until they reached the button and zipper on my slacks. I gasped at the sensuous feel of skin on skin, and I worked my hands up and around my baby’s neck to tangle in inky black tresses. My moans were constant as Becca’s warm hands caressed along the outside of my thighs as far as she could reach, and then she worked her way up the inside until she found her goal. I thought I would die if she didn’t touch me intimately soon.

"Please baby, I need you so much." Control is overrated, I thought, as long fingers dipped into my warm, wet folds.

"Oh sweet Jesus, my darling, do you know how wet you are, so warm? Your lips are so soft, so swollen, and ready for me. Open yourself to me my love. I want to take you, feel you, touch you, taste you. Is that what you want my love? Tell me." Tell you, my God, I can barely stand let alone speak.

"Yes, oh God yes. Baby please, I have to lie down. Take me to bed and love me. I’m yours; do whatever you want; just take me now!"

Once we made it safely to the bed, my angel covered me with her long muscular body and began sensual, carnal, erotic movements all up and down the length of mine. I felt like I was on fire, and the intense feelings were magnified when she gently separated my legs to settle herself comfortably between them. Becca separated our nether lips and lowered herself to me. Our hot, wet cunts joined and we began an age old grinding. Our coupling sent jolts of electricity directly to my throbbing clit. My body was on overload, and I knew I was close. Becca’s voice nearly sent me careening over the edge into oblivion.

"Oh baby, you are so hot, so wet. I could just fuck you like this all night. God you feel so good, your clit is so hard rubbing on mine. Oh yeah I love fucking you like this. Feel us baby; this is us fucking each other. Talk to be baby; tell me how good this feels." Talk, I’m going nuts, and she wants to talk.

"Baby—I can’t—it’s too much. I’m—gonna cum. Please—baby—harder. Fuck—me—harder! I wanna—cum—need—cum."

Becca began grinding her hips harder and faster against my dripping pussy. I responded by grabbing my baby’s beautiful tits and sucking her rock hard nipple into my mouth. I suckled like a starving newborn, and bit and licked the turgid nub. My hand found the other neglected tit and rolled the nipple between my finger and thumb, pulling and pinching it hard. Becca howled her lust into the night and buried her face in my neck and bit and sucked the pulse point leaving a purple love bruise in her wake. God it felt so good. Our gyrations were out of control and we both felt our impending orgasms approaching.

"Yeah that’s it my angel," I rasped, "Cum with me now. Please baby cum now."

"Yes baby I’m cumming, baby—so close, God yes. OH STAAAACCCCCEEEEE!!" The force of Becca’s orgasm sent me over the edge as well in a swirl of light and colors exploding behind my eyelids.

"BECCCAAA!!! GOD YEEESSSS!!!!"

We collapsed in each other’s arms; our sweating, heaving bodies desperately trying to pull air into our lungs. Our bodies continued to pulse and spasm for some minutes. Neither of us was able to move in the wake of our love making, check that, during our bout of animal lust. As I held my lover, and brushed her sweaty bangs out of her eyes, I realized this wasn’t exactly how I had envisioned the night would go. Don’t get me wrong, I’m certainly not complaining, but I thought we spend the night performing the art of making gentle, sweet love, not engaging in hot raucous sex. When my lover hadn’t made any attempt to move after some time, I inquired about her state of mind.

"Honey are you okay? I didn’t hurt you did I?" A shaky head movement followed.

"If you call loving me to the point of exhaustion hurting me, then yes, I’m hurt, otherwise, I’m fine, very fine. This kind of hurt I welcome any time." Maybe I can see my plans to fruition after all; the night isn’t over yet.

"Baby, just how tired are you…" My question was silenced with a passionate kiss from soft, hot, sexy lips. Hello new millennium!!

Chapter 18: The Ides of March 2000

…until there is nothing left to hold on to.

I could never have imagined, in the deepest, darkest recesses of my mind, the events of March 15, 2000 taking place. I began asking myself the inevitable questions: how could this have happened? What did I do wrong? What supernatural power did I offend? Then, this line of thinking led to placing blame, guilt. What could I have done to avoid this tragedy? This has to be my fault. Then more self, deprecation: what if I had stayed home from the hospital? What if I had driven Becca to the gallery…then maybe my angel would still be healthy and whole.

These thoughts filled my mind as I stood looking out the window into the dreary, gray LA morning. Yes, this would be another typical day in sunny California: smoggy, gray, rainy, dismal. This kind of day would make the most "Pollyanna" like individual, with the most sunny of dispositions, depressed. For someone like me: cynical by nature, the added despair of the tragedy, under which I was operating, becomes even more despondent. This day boded little good.

The constant, almost hypnotic "whoosh" of the ventilator had nearly lulled me to sleep. However, the shrill beeping alarm of the IV pump brought my professional side to full alert. I rushed to Becca’s bedside and immediately checked for vitals. Just then, the ICU nurse rushed into the room and checked the IV pump, on her side of the bed. "It’s okay Doc, there’s just a crook in the line. I have to reposition the patient’s arm a little, nothing too serious." Patient’s arm, nothing serious; that’s easy for you to say, the woman in this hospital bed isn’t your wife, soul mate, mother to my children, or my very life.

Hospital bed, my angel hurt, possibly d…NO! I won’t allow myself to give in to that! She won’t die; I won’t let that happen! "Do you hear me my love? I won’t let you go; I need you too much; I couldn’t go on without you. You have to fight to stay with me, us. Don’t forget Sydnee René needs you too. Please baby." I sat down next to the bed and looked at my lover. Her entire head was covered with a bandage. Her long beautiful raven locks had been shorn. There were tubes and wires coming, seeming-ly, from every part of her body. Her beautiful shiny, golden skin took on a dull pallid hue. She had been like this for three weeks. After the surgery, she had slipped into a coma, and there was no guarantee if or when she’d ever regain consciousness. The one good thing about a coma, it allowed the patient’s body time to heal without the patient having to deal with the pain.

I had literally moved in to the ICU. The staff had put another bed in the room for me. I took my meals here, too, and only left to shower. I knew I was neglecting my responsibilities at home and at the trauma center, but I couldn’t, or wouldn’t leave my angel’s bedside. I talked to Becca almost non-stop. I read the newspaper and her favorite, trashy novels she loved so much. There is no proof a person in a coma can hear voices, but it made me feel like I was doing something. The ventilator and breathing apparatus had been removed, since she was able to breathe on her own. This was a good sign; at least she wasn’t a vegetable. Becca was going through some light physical therapy to keep her arms and legs limber and maintain muscle tone. I took over this activity too. I was loosing weight, growing pale from lack of sunlight and fresh air, and not to mention, my disposition was suffering too. Although some, who know me, would ask how could anyone tell the difference. I was trying to keep a positive attitude, but it was growing more difficult as the coma dragged on. The accident had nearly taken my lover from me. "I vow on my eternal soul that I won’t let her leave me…

The accident had been the last thing any of us had expected. The day began like any other; I took Nip and Tuck, our two Rottweilers down to the beach with me, for our run. They enjoyed the exercise far more than I did. To them, it was playtime, to me it was work; I did it because I had to. My forty-ninth birthday was rapidly approaching, and I vowed I wouldn’t end up a sedentary middle aged doctor huffing and puffing, my way through the hospital corridors. Besides, staying in shape and beautiful was second nature to my angel; I didn’t want her to ever find me unattractive or undesirable. A little insecure are we; even after all these years? Careful, so go I, so go you. Anyhow, the dogs took great de-light in harassing all the tiny little creatures who ventured up onto the beach from the sea. What my brave canines failed to take into consideration was the fact that some of those little creatures had teeth and claws that inflicted nasty bites. After my run, I plopped myself down in a nice, soft dune to watch my clueless buddies learn a lesson the hard way. It wasn’t long before a hapless crab came sauntering up from the water. The dogs kept pestering until the inevitable happened, and Tuck came ky-yiing back to me with a very angry crab attached to his whiskers. "When are you going to learn dummy; these little critters may look harmless, but they take exception to big brutes like you messing with them." I extricated the crab from my mutt, and headed back to the house.

The hour was still early, and I assumed my family would still be in Morpheus’ realm, so I vaulted onto the deck… Vaulted, I think not. Okay, Okay, so I hopped. Semantics, that’s all. …and ran into the house. Just as I expected, the house was quiet, not a soul was stirring. I crept silently down the hallway, after making a detour to the kitchen. Armed with a large kettle and a wooden spoon, I was ready to make my attack. Positioned strategically, I began pounding on my makeshift drum and bellowing a Native American war chant at the top of my lungs. Surely this demonstration would get the desired response. However, much to my astonishment, no reaction for good or ill, was forthcoming.

I stopped my earsplitting pounding, perplexed indeed. Then, behind me a heard a muffled snicker, followed by another, and finally uncontrollable laughter. The noise came from my loving daughter, while my angel stood, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over her chest, wearing a rather superior, condescending, smug expression on her face. I will never live this down, ever. Hello. "Mmm, do you want to tell me what you are doing?" My lover asked in a calm voice. "What are my choices?" You’re not getting out of this, so just ‘fess up’. "Okay, this is my knew method to clear everyone out of the house quickly, in case of fire." My wife was dubious at best; my daughter was rolling on the floor in near hysterics. "Honey, we have smoke detectors in every room in the house." They’re not buying any of this. Here’s a novel thought: try the truth. Trying to look as contrite as I could, I threw myself on my lover’s mercy. "Oh I thought it would be really funny, if I made all this ruckus to wake you up, and you’d come running out of the bedroom like a scorched cat. Not so funny, huh? I’m sorry, forgive me?" My lover came over and kissed me sweetly. "Yes baby, always." Wonder if my Sydnee is as forgiving. "What about you squirt?" She collected herself and smiled. "Sure mom, no one else would put up with you." Margie’s attitude was far less Christian. She literally tore the kettle and spoon from my hands, and rapped me soundly on the knuckles with the spoon. "Give me that; your breakfast is ready, and from now on, stay out of my kitchen!" I hadn’t had treatment like that since grade school. I rubbed my painful knuckles briskly. "Jeez, I wonder if she’s related to Sis Liz?" My angel was not terribly sympathetic. "Poor baby, let me see. Oh I think you’ll live," she cooed, and kissed my knuckles sloppily. "Yuck," I whined. Oh well, just another day in the McGregor household.

Once everyone was fed, showered and powdered, we all started to deviate to our separate occupations for the day. Becca off to the gallery, Syd to school, and me to the trauma center. My day was going to be a long one already, even without factoring in all the trauma cases we’d probably have. There never seemed to be an end to the hurting, needy little patients who crossed through the ER doors. I had scheduled rounds first thing, then a scheduled meeting with all the department heads, and next there was luncheon with the Casey Faraday Foundation Board of Directors. The afternoon wasn’t much better. I had to oversee a new batch of interns and residents beginning their rotations. I always felt it a good idea to put the fear of the Lord in these prospective new doctors, and I always liked to give them a "welcoming speech" myself. It satisfied the sadistic streak in me. After the young doctors were sufficiently chastised, I spent an hour or two at the Hospice. Actually, I rather enjoyed that; I’d either read or tell a couple of stories to the children in the nursery/daycare. Mary Beth Roward, my trusted Hospice Di-rector, always saw to it my stories were fit for small ears to hear. I can’t believe she’d need to do that! Shut up. After all that, if there were no traumas to deal with, Rachel and I would sit down and discuss the overall state of the center, and discuss whether or not we were satisfied with the direction we were taking, and what changes, if any we were going to make. And this was just Monday.

The door chimes broke my reverie. "Gotta go mom, that’s Ange." She kissed both Becca and I on her way out. "Bye mother, see you both tonight." In a cloud of dust, the whirling dervish was out the door. "Did you catch that?" I asked my angel. "Honey don’t you remember when you were that age? How full of energy and life you were?" I had to think about that. Unfortunately what I remembered wasn’t a child full of energy and life, but one full of anger and pain. I didn’t want to bring up painful memories, so I simply said. "I was never that young." Becca arose from the table and began clearing the dishes. She kissed me on top of the head and smiled. "Yes you were, you just don’t want to admit it." My lover returned from the kitchen with the coffee. "So what is your day going to be like today?" Just thinking about it made my head hurt. I hated meetings, and I hated schmoozing. I replied more dourly than I in-tended. "Same old same old. A little of this, and a little of that." My baby wasn’t fooled. "Aaahhh meetings huh?" She knew me all too well. "Yeah." The next words out of my baby’s mouth were almost pleading. "Why don’t we have lunch together? You can come pick me up at the gallery, what do you say?" Another lost opportunity I will regret to my dying day. "Baby, I’d love to, but I have a lunch meeting with the board. Can I take a rain check?" I glanced at might watch. "Damn, I’m late, I have to go. Do you want me to drive you?" Becca just shook her head. "No sweet heart, I want to make a few calls about the showing next week, and I think I’ll do that here. I’ll see you tonight, ‘kay?" I took my world in my arms, and held her close for some time, then I kissed her longingly, passionately. I broke the kiss, and whispered. "Yeah baby, I’ll see you tonight and we’ll snuggle and cuddle and neck on the couch, and embarrass Syd." Becca sighed. "Sounds great, it’s a date."

I hopped in my black Chevy Blazer and took off down the street. We lived in Malibu, so I generally took the Pacific Coast Highway to Wilshere Blvd. to the trauma center. We were so close to UCLA you could spit and hit the Medical Center. Becca’s gallery was located on trendy, posh, and very expensive Rodeo Drive. Often times, we’d drive in together. If only on this particular day I would have waited for my wife, then perhaps the near fatal accident would never have happened. I spent a pretty uneventful morning; I still hadn’t changed my opinion about staff meetings. I knew they had a purpose, but I always felt I could be spend my time far more productively in the unit helping patients than listening to board members rant and rave. My doodling was interrupted when Deidre came into the conference room. "Mac, Dr. Meredith Stewart from the Med. Center needs to talk to you. She seems very upset; she said it’s really important." Anything to get me out of this inane meeting will be fine. Be careful what you wish for. "Ladies and gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me, I must take this call. I’ll rejoin you as quickly as possible." Hot damn, I’m outta here.

I went to the nurse’s station to take the call. "Hey Mere how ya hanging; haven’t talked to you in ages. What can I do for you? There’s nothing wrong with Kyle or the kids is there?" There was a deathly silence on the other end. "Mere are you there? Oh God what’s wrong?" I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. "Mac, I—I, oh damn—Mac, it’s Becca…" I dropped the phone, my knees buckled, and I nearly fell, but for Irish and Deidre appearing by my side to hold me up. Irish picked up the phone and talked into the receiver. "Dr. Stewart, this is Irish, Mac kinda collapsed; here just a sec, she’s back." I took the phone and tried to compose myself before I spoke. "Sorry Mere, what happened?" Meredith’s strong clear voice related the events of the accident. "You better get over here now. Becca’s been in a serious accident. She has severe head injuries; there has been massive trauma to the frontal lobe. We need your consent to operate…" I didn’t wait for any more information. "Damn you Meredith, you do whatever you have to; you save her; don’t you dare let her die! You hear me!? Do it; I’m on my way." Oh God no, not my angel, not my baby, why? I was shaking noticeably, the color had drained from my face, I was nauseous, and felt like I could lose the contents of my stomach at any moment. Irish and Deidre looked at me; their faces showed not only fear, but compassion as well. "Becca has been in a traffic accident, I don’t know all the details, but she has massive head injuries. I’ve got to get to the Med. Center." I started toward the exit, but nearly fell after only one step. Irish caught me before I fell flat on my face. "You’re not going anywhere in your condition." She nodded to Deidre who headed to the conference room. I nearly exploded all over Irish. "Don’t think for one minute you are going to stop me from going to my Becca." I cocked my hand back ready to let fly with a right cross. Irish ducked, and the next thing I knew Gil had me wrapped up in strong arms keeping me from doing any damage to myself, or anyone else. "No one is trying to stop you, but you’ll do Becca no good if you get yourself killed driving to the Med. Center in your condition. Gil will drive you over."

Rachel appeared at my side, as I broke down and sobbed. Small, strong hands and arms draped around me trying to comfort my convulsing body. "Shhh, Mac listen, try to get hold of yourself, I know this is going to sound cold and heartless, but you have to distance yourself from this. Don’t let your emotions inhibit you from using your God-given skills to save Becca’s life. Do you understand what I’m saying?" I managed to calm myself somewhat; I knew professionally Rachel was right, but this is my wife. "Kay," I nodded. "Good, Gil get going, Deidre I’m going to Malibu to get Sydnee…" My head shot up abruptly. "Rachel you’re needed here; have Margie…" I knew I wasn’t going to get anywhere. "Deidre call Dr. Wyatt, tell him he’s in charge. Apprise him of the situation. My priority now is my family. Right Mac?" I nodded and Gil ushered me out the door to the car.

I ran into the ER, Gil right on my heels, and immediately went to the nurse’s station to inquire about Becca. Marilynn, the unit secretary, has been a good friend for years. She immediately left her station, came around the desk, and wrapped me in a warm embrace. During the ride over, I had managed to pull myself together somewhat. Marilynn directed me to a private family waiting room. "Mac, I am so sorry about this; they’re still working on Becca in the ER trying to stabilize her for surgery." Quickly, with purpose, I was on my feet and started for the door. Gil tried to stop me, and I went ballistic; I had no clue what I would be able to do to get free of his grasp, my only thought was to get to Becca; I had to be with angel. I was screaming hysterically; striking out at anything or anyone who came within my reach. Again Gil was trying, in vain, to stop me from doing anyone any harm. Just as I lunged at the door, it opened and Meredith appeared, and right behind her stood Harley.

My rage induced struggles continued and escalated, as another pair of arms tightened around me. I saw nothing; I heard nothing. "Stace, listen to me. Stacey! Stop this, now." I was totally insane at this point, I was listening to anyone; I was reacting to brutal hands, long since dead, beating me, holding me, hurting me. This wasn’t Harley holding me, but my old man, and I struck our blindly. My fist connected with flesh and bone. The resulting crunch was sickening. "All right smartass that’s enough, sit down and get hold of yourself. You’ll do Rebecca no good like this." Somehow Harley’s favorite nickname for me seemed to reach through the insanity. I sank down onto the couch stilling my strug- gles, but the respite was short lived. Harley never relinquished his hold on me. Angie who flanked me, hesitated not in the least, and tried to hold me tightly as well. The three of us were locked together for what seemed like forever. My struggles continued for a moment, and then my world instantly went black.

"Wow what caused that, and what did she give her?" Harley was in a state of shock. Rachel whispered something to the nurse, who was in the process of disposing of the used syringe. "Just a little tranquilizer; a mild sedative actually; she won’t be out long. I suspect that Mac was regressing to her childhood when her dad beat her. With the stress of Becca being in such critical condition and you holding her, and not letting her go, she snapped." Harley and Angie both were terribly upset. "I didn’t mean to hurt…I…God I didn’t think…" Rachel place a comforting hand on Harley’s shoulder. "I know you didn’t, it’ll be okay." Harley felt a little better, but was still confused. "But how can you…you don’t work in this hospital. Can you just grab medication and administer it to whoever you want? Don’t they keep that stuff locked up someplace?" Rachel smiled. "Both Mac and I have privileges here; we can admit patients for treatment and prescribe medication." Angie started to speak. "But I still don’t…" Rachel held up her hand for silence. "Currently, Mac is my patient, and I prescribed a mild sedative. Now I intend to admit her." Harley was still confused. "Admit her; she’s not…your not gonna put her in the crazy…" Harley moved to protect me from the orderly who entered the room with a gurney. "No Harley she isn’t sick, and no I’m not admitting her to the psychiatric ward. She’s going to ICU, room 402 actually." Now both Harley and Angie were totally lost. "Room 402 in ICU is the room Becca will be taken to after surgery and her time in the recovery room. I figured Mac wouldn’t leave this place until Becca was out of danger, even if she’d leave then, so I figured they needed to be together. I pulled a few strings and got her placed there. She’ll be awake and hopefully we can get her calmed down by the time Becca is ready to go to her room. Any more questions?"

Both parents shook their heads, but they still didn’t know the extent of Becca’s injuries, or how she was injured. "Let’s get Mac settled, and I’ll fill you in on what happened, and the extent of Becca’s injuries. I’ll explain everything, Becca will be in surgery for a while yet, there’ll be time." By the time I was settled and while I still remained unconscious, Rachel took Harley and Angie to the surgery waiting room to tell them what she knew. Before she started, Angie looked around. "Oh my God, Sydnee, where is she? She doesn’t know any of this, sweet Jesus we…" Harley held his wife gently whispering words of comfort. "Hon, calm down; we don’t want Dr. Donnovon to have to tranquilize you too, okay? But Doc, where is Sydnee?" Rachel had gone to school to get Sydnee, but she wasn’t there. "I went to pick Syd up, but her History class is on a field trip to the Metropolitan Museum of Ancient History. Her teacher had a cell phone and she has been notified and apprised of the situation. Sheila, Becca’s assistant at the gallery, is closest, so she’s going to the museum to bring her here; she should be here any minute. Now as for Becca’s condition,…"

I opened my eyes, trying to determine just where in the hell I was and what football tackle had blind, sided me. My head was killing me, and my eyes refused to focus for a minute. Finally, I was able to get my bearings. I sat up, swung my legs over the side of the bed, and held my head in my hands. When I looked up, the first thing I saw clearly was the empty hospital bed next to mine. Oh fuck, Becca…

"…it is very serious, critical in fact. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say, life threatening. Becca received…" Rachel’s narrative was cut short by my short, but imposing frame, filling in the doorway. "Becca received what; and don’t soft sell this, you know I’ll know if you’re telling me everything." Before Rachel could continue, Sydnee rushed into the room, shock and absolute terror etched on her young face. "Mom," Sydnee cried, bursting into uncontrollable, racking sobs. "What happened, where’s mother; is she…" Syd couldn’t ask the question, the idea was too unthinkable; something I couldn’t imagine myself. I took my little baby in my arms and held her, trying to calm, reassure, and comfort my child. "Shhh, shhh, sweetheart…there’s been an accident—I—I don’t know everything either, she’s still in surgery. Honey she has a head injury, but one thing I do know, your mother is a fighter; baby she won’t die, she’ll be okay."

My tears were streaming down my face, just as Sydnee’s were. "Head injury…" She looked around at all the faces in the room, then back at me. "…if she has a head injury, then why aren’t you doing the surgery? Mom you’re the best, why?" Yeah, you are the best, so explain this to me; I’d like to know too. I ignored my little voice. "Baby, I—I—I can’t; it’s not ethical." Ethical, I can’t believe this! "Ethical!" Evidently, I’m not the only one who can’t believe this. "Mom, mother’s in surgery battling for her life, and you’re worried about ethics? I don’t believe this! My God, she’s your wife, and my mother. She’s our world, please mom; go save her. I love her; I can’t lose her, and neither can you. Please—momma—please." Whatcha gonna do now smartass? "Sweetheart, you’re right; you stay here with Nanna and Gramps; I’ll be back." I thought Rachel was going to swallow her tongue. "Stace, are you crazy? You can’t do this! There’s a really legitimate reason why physicians don’t operate on family members. You’re too close to this; you can’t be objective. Are you telling me you can stay emotionally detached?" I looked directly into Rachel’s questioning eyes and spoke the truth. "Yes, I can; I can do nothing else." With that, I turned on my heel, and stopped at the door. I addressed them all, but especially Sydnee René. "I promise you, she won’t die. I won’t let her." Everyone looked incredulously at each other. Harley spoke, to no one in particular. "Can she really do that?" A soft tiny voice murmured, but filled with all the conviction in the world, simply one word, "Yes." All eyes turned to Sydnee, and they too believed.

I went first to the doctor’s lounge and donned scrubs and commandeered someone’s shoes. Next I scrubbed in, and as I entered the surgery suite, I automatically extended by arms for the scrub nurse to help me into a sterile gown and gloves. The neurosurgeon looked up breaking his concentration for an instant. He knew who I was and my reputation. Dr. Damian Bryant was a young, brash, incredibly gifted surgeon. Does he remind you of someone? He did remind me of me; this should be very interesting.

"What in the hell do you think you’re doing in my OR?" he demanded.

"I didn’t know you held exclusive ownership here, but I’m taking over." I said simply. The room was thundering in its deathly silence.

"Just who do you think you are coming in here…I’ll have you up on charges before…" I cut him off severely.

"I’m going to save this patient." The ice in both my eyes and voice could have frozen Hell. This was Dr. Stacey McGregor in all her glory, and everyone in the surgery suite knew it. Bryant tried to save face.

"If you take over, this patient will no longer be my responsibility…" We were loosing valuable time here.

"You’re right, she’s mine." I said in my most menacing growl. "Now get out and let me get to work."

I looked down into the face that was everything to me, and made a silent vow, "You’ll make it through this baby, my angel. Hang on, I can’t do this without you." I looked up to study the CT scans of Becca’s injuries. There was massive trauma to the frontal and lateral lobes. She had dangerously, extremely critical pressure on the brain. The skull had been fractured, but not shattered, which was good. There would be no fragments to deal with that might possibly be imbedded in the soft tissue. The most immediate concern was to relieve the pressure, and to that end, holes were drilled in to skull in the affected area. Once the pressure was relieved, and the swelling of the brain reduced, then the fracture could be dealt with by placing a metal plate in the skull to replace the damaged portion. I tried to view the damage clinically. My trained mind did become detached; my knowledge and surgical skills took over, and I went to work. The adrenaline surge I felt whenever I worked in the OR, or the trauma unit, kicked in and I felt an almost obscene pleasure while I worked to ease someone else’s suffering. It was time to go to work. "Okay people, we have work to do, let’s get at it…"

For those who can only wait, surgery on a loved one can be almost as traumatic as for the patient. Rachel sat with Sydnee and Becca’s parents. Dr. Stewart acted as the liaison between family and the OR, bringing what reports and updates that were forthcoming. Still, the waiting was taking its toll. "How much longer is this going to take? Something must have gone wrong." Harley was pacing back and forth wearing the carpet out with each stride. The voice of reason tried to calm the raging bull. "Honey, you know what Rachel said, this is a very delicate procedure. You know Stace is the best there is; Rebecca Marie is in the best hands in the world. It’ll all work out." Sydnee wasn’t a Danforth by birth, but she had the same uncanny ability Becca had to calm Harley with merely a touch. "Gramps," she whispered. "Do you trust Mom, cause I do. She won’t let anything go wrong." The older man stopped pacing and faced his granddaughter, and opened his arms to her. "C’mere darlin’, I need a hug, one only you can give." The teenager rushed into her grandfather’s arms and the two stood there for some moments. Their embrace was interrupted when the door opened. "It’s over."

Those were the only two words I could manage, so I hoped my tired smile would be enough to convey Becca was out of immediate danger. You may want to be a little more specific; you’re scaring them to death. Go away; I’m too tired for this. "Does Gramps have exclusive rights to your hugs baby, if not I could sure use one ‘bout now." Sydnee René flew into my arms her tears of relief streaming down her face. "She’s okay; mother is going to be all right, right?" The force of Syd’s body impacting my ex-hausted one nearly knocked me over. "Hey, honey take it easy. C’mon let’s sit down, and I’ll explain the extent of Becca’s injuries and the procedure." Rachel came over and placed a hot, black cup of coffee into my hand. "Thanks Rach, I really need this." I indicated the coffee in my hand and began my story.

Becca was on her way to the gallery and was driving east on the Pacific Coast Highway. It was an exceptionally beautiful, sunny day so Becca had put the top down, and if things were going as usual, she was probably listening to New Age Jazz CD’s. The intoxicated driver of a Chevy Blazer 4x4 soft top collided, head on, with Becca’s Mercedes 450SL convertible. At that bit of information, I thought the ex sheriff was going to explode. "I s’pose the son of a bitch never even got a stratch; that’s what usually happens." True, but in this case, the man had died when the impact ejected him from the vehicle. He was killed when his body hit a concrete abutment. "No Harley; he died in the accident." The voice of reason replied. "I know driving drunk is wrong, but still the loss of a life in such a wasteful pathetic way; can that ever be right?" The Chevy served into the east, bound lane of traffic. Becca served to the left to avoid the collision, but the Chevy forced the 450SL into a 360-degree spin, and forced Becca into a large boulder, the impact forcing the left side of her head into the steering wheel. The resulting crash caused a blow severe enough to fracture her skull and cause the brain to be terribly concussed. Angie’s hands flew to her face, and she broke down in tears. "My baby, my poor baby." Harley entrapped her in his big burly arms and softly stroked her hair and just held you close while she cried. Sydnee cried in my arms as well, and I could no longer hold myself together either. Rachel didn’t fair any better and so the room was filled with five sobbing people. I got hold of myself and began explaining the surgical procedure and what we could expect in the near future.

"Listen everyone, I know this sounds horrible, and I would have saved you all from this, but you have to know in order to understand what I did to fix the damage. For right now, Becca is out of immediate danger. The pressure on her brain has been relieved, and now we have to wait for the swelling to go down." Harley took on the role of questioner. "How long will that take." I wish I could have given him some definitive answer, but I couldn’t. "That depends; I can’t tell you for sure, but the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours will be very critical." I could tell Harley was afraid to ask the next question. "What about brain—dam—dam—age?" Damn I hate this. "I can’t tell you that either. We won’t know for sure until she regains consciousness." Harley was loosing it and I couldn’t blame him. "Well just what in the hell can you tell us. You’re the damn doctor; you tell me smartass!" God I really hate this. "Gramps, stop it; don’t you dare yell at mom. She’s doing everything she can; she’s hurting too!" That’s my girl; always sticking up for me. "Shhh honey, it’ll be okay." Harley just dropped to the couch. "Damn, I’m sorry Stace, Syd, I—I—just feel so helpless. Maybe we’d be better if we could see Rebecca. Is that possible?" How could I say no; we all needed to see her. "Yes, I’ll go see when she’ll be leaving recovery." I looked up at Harley’s black eye, and reached up to gently touch his cheek. "Hey Sheriff," I said softly, "I’m sorry ‘bout this." A slow smile crossed his face. "Don’t mention it smartass, it was a lucky punch. Just don’t let it happen again, I might hit back." I smiled, "That’s fair enough, be right back."

…"There it is baby, my eternal soul, that’s what’s at stake here. I know this sounds like blackmail or coercion, but I don’t care, I won’t let you leave me, so just deal with it and get better." I hadn’t realized I was speaking out loud until I heard a weak, but familiar contralto voice. "I—th-in—k—I—can—do—th—at." I nearly fainted. "B-B-Bec-ca, Becca, baby? Honey, yyy—ou—you—re awake! Oh thank God." Eyes slowly fluttered open and blue eyes tried to focus. Just as quickly, they blinked several times and closed. "Oh sorry honey. Let me turn the lights down. There babe, try again." Again blue eyes opened, and this time they stayed open. "There, is that better?" My angel nodded slightly, and then the doctor in me kicked in and I took a penlight and checked her eye’s reactions to light. Her eyes reacted well to the light; her pupils dilated and retracted appropriately. Her eyes were able to follow and track the light as well. I continued with my examination, which included checking her reflexes, and muscle control. I asked the usual questions: what is your name, where do you live, what do you do for a living, do you have a family, and what are you parent’s names. After I was finished, my angel looked at me; the intensity in the limpid pools was in tact. "Am I gonna live?" I returned her gaze and answered from the heart. "There was never any doubt my love." I leaned over her prone body and gently, pouring as much love as possible into the kiss, brought our lips together. We broke the kiss, and one lone tear tracked down out of the corner of my lover’s eye. I quickly kissed that tear away. "I love you so very much, my angel. Don’t ever scare me like this again, okay?" I asked softly. "It’s a deal, my love."

The hand that wasn’t tethered by the IV line reached up and touched her bandaged head. Another tear leaked out of her eye. I gently laid my hand on top of hers. "Don’t worry, it’ll grow back. To me you’ll always be beautiful, no matter what." I tried to reassure my wife. "Stace, will you lay down with me, please." Without hesitation I climbed into bed next to my beloved, stretched my frame along her much longer one, pulled her close to me, and cradled her to my body. This was home. "I’ve really missed this." My lover’s sleepy voice echoed my words. "Humm humm, you brought me back y’know. I heard your voice. It kept calling to me, pulling me out of the darkness. I couldn’t leave you." I knew hospital protocol demanded I call the nurse and notify the attending physician. Thought that was you, dummy. Oh yeah, you’re right. Of course, aren’t I always? Ohhhhh. There were tests that needed to be done, CT scans; that sort of thing, but that could wait. I had my angel back. The road to complete recovery would be long, but together we could do absolutely anything. The family needed to know Becca was awake, but that too could wait. Was I being selfish; yes, but I think they would forgive me, this once. I responded simply to my lover, "I know love, I know."

Sometimes, loss isn’t permanent. If you’re very lucky, sometimes what you thought was lost, is found…

So ends my tale. Since I’ve not done this before, I would like your input for good or ill. I still have an idea or two rattling around in my head for these characters, so if you’d like more email me. Thanks.