Standard Disclaimer: The characters of Xena and Gabrielle do not belong to me, but to Renaissance Pictures/MCA. I have borrowed them again; I will return them unharmed very soon.

Violence: None

Sexual Content/Language: Not so far, however, these two ladies are very much in love, and have been for a very long time. Some marriages don’t last this long! Anyway, they express their love in a physical way, sometimes explicitly and graphically, occasionally they get an attack of potty mouth, so forewarned is forearmed. If you think love between two women is wrong, I’m sorry, you won’t like my stories, so don’t read them. If you live in a state or province where this kind of relationship is illegal, don’t read this story. If you are not 21, don’t read this story.

Hurt/Comfort: This series deals with issues that are not very easy to deal with: child abuse, aging, and the death of a loved one. I think some people call this life. Just remember to keep a box of hankies nearby. Sometimes the muse gets away from me and these things sorta sneak in where you least expect them.

The family has been on vacation for a bit, but now they’re back and ready to carry on where they left off. ‘Thanksgiving’ is the next installment of ‘The Lost and Found Series’, so if you don’t read those stories, this one will make no sense whatsoever.

I want to take a moment here to thank all the folks who have emailed me to make comments. I really appreciate your help. Especially thanks to ForevaXena for posting my stories, and my modest site, on her ‘way cool’ site. As always I look forward to hearing from you. My addy is: fantasysrealm@home.com is open for comments of the constructive kind. Now here’s the story. Enjoy!

Thanksgiving

Part One

By

Fantasy

November 14, 2000

Chapter 1: Taking Stock

Wow I love my Jag. I don’t drive it often enough. Even at the end of November, I can drive down the Pacific Coast Highway with the top down and not freeze to death. There are advantages to living in, sometimes sunny, California. Smog notwithstanding, life here is pretty damn good. Huh, life. I often think about my life. The pain and abuse before my twelfth birthday now has become a dim and distant memory. I really didn’t begin living until Rebecca Marie came into my life, my angel. God how many times have I thanked Him for bringing her into my life? Without her, I never would have made it through all the miserable days. I’ve lost count of all the times she has brought me back from the brink of despair.

I don’t want to sound melodramatic, but she literally saved my life, countless times. She’s given me hope and the strength to go on. When it all got to be too much and I just knew I couldn’t face one more twisted, broken, tiny little body, there was my angel. It seemed every time I repaired one damaged little human being there would be another and another to replace it. I wondered how could anybody do such horrendous, unspeakable acts to these tiny, trusting, helpless little people; their own children for God’s sake. The violence was usually for something as trivial as a spilled glass of milk or an accident in bed in the middle of the night. My lover, my wife, would always be there to soothe and heal my aching broken heart and soul.

These thoughts filled my mind as I turned onto trendy, posh, decadent Rodeo Drive. It was ironic all right. I was actually considered one of the beautiful people I detested rubbing elbows with on a professional level, let alone on a personal one. What’dya think of that dad? My wife better fit in with the beautiful people; she is indeed beautiful. No that’s too simple a description. She is more than beautiful; she is a goddess, pure and simple. And why she chose me to spend the rest of her life with I’ll never know, but she did, and thank God for that!

I parked along the street in front of ‘The Gallery’, Becca’s art studio. I talked her into changing the name several years ago. This was the main studio; there were two others: one in San Francisco and the other in New York City. Becca is a world-renowned artist, and people regularly put down six and seven figure sums for her work. Her paintings hang in the most prestigious galleries in the world. Sotheby’s of London recently held a silent auction of her work, which raised over $5,000,000.00, most of which went for abused and battered children and Aids research. She was at a point in her career where she could retire and never work again, but she’d never do that. Art was such an ingrained part of her life. I wondered if she could survive without it. She always said she needed only Syd and I, but I wondered if that were true. I entered the gallery, looking for my wife. Some ‘suits’ and matronly women in the far corner of the room had her cornered. Becca’s assistant, Sheila Farris met me at the Expresso Counter.

"Well, well, well, what brings the good doctor out and about in the middle of the afternoon?" Sheila grinned. "Looks like you could use a drink."

"Yeah but none of that fancy stuff; I’ll have a Corona." Sheila raised an eyebrow. "Oh don’t worry, I’m not doing surgery today," I groaned. "It’s Monday. I hate Mondays. I got tired of listening to boring old stodgy board members whining because the foundation dollars are going to the patients and not enough is going for their administrative offices. Before I left, I told them they were damned lucky they even had an executive washroom, and if they didn’t stop belly aching, I’d take that out too."

"Jeeze Mac, that would be worth seeing. Can you imagine a ‘honey hut’ out back for their needs!" Sheila was all but rolling around on the floor. "Couldn’t you just see Harriet Randall and Stella McIntyre having to use a ‘honey hut’?" Those two old broads! I’m surprised they don’t have someone do it for them!

"God Sheila, get a grip," I chuckled, "it’ll never happen. Although you’re right; it might be worth the trouble it’d cause to see it just once." Just then one of the suits caught my attention. "Who’s the jerk ogling my wife?"

"That ‘jerk’ is Senator Jeremy Hanover from San Francisco. He’s after one of Becca’s paintings, but I think he wants her to donate it to him for some library or some such thing."

"Why the hell doesn’t he just go back to San Francisco and leave us to hell alone?"

"You should go rescue your wife. Looks like she could use your help." I watched the slimy bastard undress my angel with a lecherous leer. Are you just gonna stand here or are you going to go tie his balls in knots? Oh now there’s a visual. I finished my beer and set the empty bottle down on the table.

"You’re right; I’ve had just about enough!" I walked to where my love was standing. I knew she knew I was approaching. A small little smirk curved the corners of her lips and her eyes sparkled in that little devilish way I’d come to love. Shall I just take you and ravage you here and now right in front of the good Senator? That should pretty well let him know who belongs to whom. I shoved my way in between the Senator and my wife. Asshole. The man nearly lost his balance and fell on his butt. Oh that was subtle! Who cares; this is my property he’s messing with!

"Oh excuse me…uh…I’m sorry I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Dr. Stacey McGregor." You pompous son of a bitch! Two can play this little game! That’s my girl!

"Stacey darling," Becca purred, "this is Senator Jeremy Hanover." I thought the good senator was going to choke on his champagne at the term of endearment Becca addressed me with. I wrapped my arm around my wife’s slender waist, clearly staking definite ownership. My wife snuggled closer to me rubbing against me shamelessly. Ya little minx ya. Senator Hanover was about to hurl his lunch, that much was obvious. It was time to let the man know just how despicable I thought he was.

"Hanover, oh yeah, I know you. You’re the one who voted against the bill to make same sex marriages legal in California. The same bill which would have afforded us the right to our partner’s insurance and social security benefits, pensions, and property when they die, or the right to be declared the legal guardians of our own children. The same rights each and every other citizen of the United States has. Yeah I know you Senator all too well." Everyone in the gallery had his or her attention glued to us. I continued. "Becca correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe we still have the right to remove anyone we choose from our place of business." Becca smiled nodded. "Now if you’ll excuse us, my wife and I have other clients to attend to; good day! Oh by the way, don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out." Sometimes you are just too damn good smartass! The senator blustered and stammered.

"Well I had no idea!"

"No, I don’t suppose you did." No doubt! An idea would die of loneliness in that man’s brain. My angel drew me into strong arms and kissed me passionately.

"I love you my soul."

"And I you my heart," I whispered. "I’m sorry if I embarrassed you in front of your clients." I looked around the room and motioned with my arm. The people in the gallery were chatting amiably, sipping wine and nibbling cheese and fruit. Becca made sure people who came to buy her pieces were well taken care of. "Ya have to spend a buck to make a buck," Harley always said.

"Baby you are never an embarrassment to me. Nothing you could ever say or do would make me feel ashamed to be your wife and I’ll prove it." My angel kissed me again then moved away from me to the speaker system she used for gallery auctions. Look out smartass, she’s up to something. My love opened the microphone and got everyone’s attention. Sheila just smirked. I looked toward the door wondering, if I bolted now, whether or not I’d make it before Becca did the deed. At that exact moment, Rachel walked through the door. Damn, trapped like a rat!

"Excuse me ladies and gentlemen, I hate to interrupt you as you browse, but my wife and I were having a conversation about the incident which just transpired with Senator Hanover." A soft murmur spread throughout the small crowd. "My wife thinks her comments and actions were an embarrassment to me. I’ve been trying to explain to her how wrong she is. Do you agree with me?" Instantly, the fifteen or so people gathered round us exploded in riotous applause. Rachel moved to stand next to me.

"Who did you insult now?" Thanks a lot.

"What makes you think I insulted anyone?" Rachel’s disapproving smirk was her only answer.

"Your faith in me is overwhelming," I grumbled, then the light dawned: Dr. Donnovon-Evans was here instead of the trauma center. "Hey why are you here bugging me instead of running the center?"

"Not to worry, I left Irish in charge!" Oh shit! I rolled my eyes. Ah, ah, ah; none of that! You won't let anyone else get away with rolling their eyes at you!

"Please tell me you’re joking!" The last time my Nursing Services Director was left in charge, she booby-trapped my entire office. She had a wallpaper installed, on every desktop in the entire center, of me mooning Rachel at a beach party. I didn’t need that again.

"Hey relax boss! I’m only kidding. Dr. Jefferson is on call. Gary’s birthday in this weekend and I’m here to pick up his present."

"Aaahhh yes the big 48. So what makes you think you can keep it hidden away from him for five more days. Maybe you should leave it here." My angel saw Rachel come in and came over to join our conversation.

"Hi Rach. You here to get Gary’s present? It’s in my office, c’mon. Sheila, we’ll be in my office if you need me." In the far corner, next to the sofa, was a figure covered with a red velvet bag. "Here it is; tell me what you think." Becca lifted the velvet covering to expose a jade sculpture of a dolphin breaching the water. Swimming in the water along side was a Navy Seal. The attention to detail was incredible. The arc of the dolphin’s body, the sea spray as he exited the ocean, the open, loving, joyous expression on the dolphin’s face was so lifelike I thought he’d start the clicking, laughing language dolphins were famous for. I had watched Becca as she spent weeks studying the dolphins. We took the boat out every chance we got and Becca sketched endlessly. She snapped roll after roll of photos so she could get all the angles she needed to create her masterpiece. She wanted the dolphin to look as natural as possible and she certainly accomplished that. Rachel was stunned mute. That’s a pretty neat trick all things considered. Shut up! Tears formed in her emerald eyes at the expression of love and caring as the dolphin frolicked in the sea with the diver.

Gary, the ex-Navy Seal, loved the ocean and all the living things in it, but especially dolphins. He told a story that happened to him during a training operation years ago in Hawaii. A dolphin actually saved his life when his air tanks malfunctioned. He tells of how the dolphin towed him into shallow water, near a reef, where his shipmates would be sure to find him. Some people attributed his story to lack of oxygen and a vivid imagination. But knowing animals as I do, and their capacity for intelligence, I have no reason to doubt Gary’s story. Rachel wanted something special for his birthday, so she commissioned Becca to sculpt his favorite sea creature.

"Oh Becca it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen." Rach reached into her purse to retrieve her checkbook, but my angel stopped her.

"Keep your money hon; this is my gift to both of you. You’re reaction to the piece is more than enough payment for me."

"Becca, I can’t let you do that. This piece is priceless, I…"

"Then the price is right because your friendship to us is priceless."

"But…" I stopped Rachel from trying to change my lover’s mind.

"Rachel there is no point in arguing," I said, "it never gets you very far. Believe me I know." Rachel fell into Becca’s arms sobbing quietly.

"Thank you. I love you both; you know that don’t you?"

"Yeah we know, we love you too," I replied, "so where are you two off to for the weekend?"

"You know how much Gary loves the sea, so we are just taking the boat down the coast. Who knows where we’ll end up." I wasn’t sure I liked that idea.

"Wait just a minute there little missy. I’d really like it if you could be a little more specific on the location." Rachel and Becca just looked at me and shook their heads. "What? Is it my fault I’m concerned? So sue me! Jeeze."

"Okay mom," Rachel grinned, "Gary thought we’d just go over to Catalina. It really doesn’t matter where we go, we just like to be on the water. We probably won’t even get off the boat." Heh, hell they won’t even get out of bed! Those two are worse than you and Becca. And just how would you know that? I have many…yeah, yeah, skills. I know. "We’ll be leaving really early in the morning and we’ll be back late Monday afternoon, weather permitting." Shit she would have to add that! Stop it! They’ll be fine. "Does that meet with your approval?" Smartass.

"Yes," I mumbled, "I just worry about you guys." My angel wrapped a comforting arm around my shoulders and kissed my head.

"Baby don’t worry; Gary is an excellent sailor. You know that. And people who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones." Where the hell did that come from?

"Just what is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh puuullleeeaaassseee!" Rachel begged. "You have very selective memory you know that? How many times have the two of you taken off to God knows where with nary a word to anyone."

"I don’t think so! I dare you to name one time, just once when we didn’t let Harley or Margie know where we were?" Why do you do this? You are such a dumb shit sometimes.

"All right. Let’s see, there was the spur of the moment trip to Seattle last summer, then the skiing trip to Colorado…"

"Wait a minute Harley and Angie knew we were at Copper Mountain."

"True, but then you two took off cross country skiing without telling anybody and got caught in the blizzard and were lost for three days. Oh yeah the trip to Egypt was fun. What was it that time? A sand-storm wasn’t it?" I threw up my hands in defeat. "Ha! I rest my case." I looked to my angel for at least some kind of moral support.

"Don’t look at me. You should know better than to start this mother hen routine, especially since you won’t stand for it when someone is the least little bit concerned about you." Shit!

"Okay, I apologize for being so bitchy, but you guys just be careful okay?" Rachel kissed my cheek in a sisterly fashion.

"Yes ma’am. People would be so amazed if they saw the real you. ‘Old Mother Hen McGregor’. It’s really sweet."

"I AM NOT SWEET! You go spreading that around and nobody will take me seriously when I throw my weight around at the center. Especially Irish." Becca embraced me and kissed my lips sweetly.

"My soul, Irish doesn’t take you seriously now as it is, so I wouldn’t be too concerned with your reputation as far as she’s concerned." God now I know how Rodney Dangerfield feels.

"I give up, I just give up." The three of us enjoyed a good laugh at my expense and then Rachel noticed the time.

"Oh my gosh, I’ve got to get home and hide this before Gary gets home first! Thanks again so much, this is so great."

"Think nothing of it, you and Gary just have a nice vacation."

"We will, and thanks, I love you both. See ya."

The door closed softly behind Rachel and my angel and I were left alone in Becca’s spacious office. I took my love’s hand and walked her over to the plush velvet covered sofa. I sat down, then lay back on the cushioned armrest. I pulled my heart down with me until Becca was lying on top of me, encompassed by my arms. I drew the soft, smooth, full lips to mine and kissed my lover. I ran my tongue all around my angel’s soft lips until she opened them allowing entrance into her warm mouth. The kiss was one of our best: wet and sloppy with lots of tongue. We sucked and licked to our hearts content, nearly devouring each other in the process. We separated only for much needed air, and pinned each other with equally lapis pools.

"I love you my heart."

"I love you my soul." Becca settled down on top of me, our legs entangled, our hearts beating together as one. I loved spending time like this; there was no need to fulfill sexual desires. I simply enjoyed the connection the closeness we had developed over the years. I often wondered how many monogamous lesbian relationships there are that last fifteen years or more; I bet there’s a lot. I wonder why no one ever considers that when people question our life style. You’re rambling again. Yeah I know. I do that when my angel and I are just lying together like this, quiet and contented. A slight movement caused me look down at my love.

"Go ahead, ask," I said.

"What makes you think I wanted to ask anything?" Becca asked.

"I always know. I can tell," I smirked.

"How?"

"Simple, when were lying together like this, you always rub your cheek back and forth on my chest a couple of times just before you ask me something." My wife raised up and propped herself up on my chest. She gazed directly, intensely in my eyes.

"I do not." I pursed my lips and scrunched my face up in a little frown, then nodded. "Do I…" I nodded again. "I do don’t I."

"Yep. So now what did you want to ask?"

"I was just wondering…I was going to ask earlier…then we had all the distractions…what brought you down here in the middle of the afternoon? Not that I mind, mind you."

"I missed you," I whispered, then kissed my angel’s nose.

"What?"

"I missed you. I was sitting in a boring meeting, and was drawing little pictures; I kept drawing your face, not very well either I might add. So I said to myself, ‘self, this is really stupid. You’re not needed here, why don’t you go where you are.’ So here I am. Uh…I am…uh…I mean needed here…right?" Warm loving lips captured mine in a soulful kiss.

"Yes my love, always."

"Thanks, I needed that." I glanced at my watch. "5:00pm, what say we go home early, and lay around on the couch and watch old John Wayne movies." My world snuggled even more deeply into my arms. "We could watch The Quiet Man."

"Okay, but I need a good laugh too. How ’bout a Walter Matthau marathon, Grumpy Old Men, Grumpier Old Men, and The Odd Couple. We could add those to the list. What’dya say?"

"Sounds good. Let’s go."

"Can we order pizza? We’ll make it a real family night." Family, God I love the sound of that.

"Yes my love, that sounds even better."

Sheila was chatting with a couple who had just flown in from Chicago. Becca always the gracious hostess went over to greet the man and woman. I watched as Becca played the situation to her best advantage. She was phenomenal the way she made people feel they were important and not just potential buyers. Becca sold more of her artwork through good public relations than the actual pieces themselves. Don’t get me wrong, Becca was a true artist, in fact, some critics touted her as the female counterpart to Michelangelo. But the biggest part of being a successful artist was getting your work shown to the right people, and Becca was able to do that from the start because she was so good with people. She was a natural born schmoozer. I watched from a distance mesmerized at my wife’s style and grace. She could probably sell a drowning man a glass of water. She bid her clients good evening, and turned toward me wearing a self satisfied, smug grin on her face. Yep sold!

"All right Miz Thing; what’d you do? They don't seem like the smiling, happy clients who usually leave with just exactly what they want no matter the price. Speaking of price, can I retire now?" I asked glancing back over my shoulder. I had turned just in time to see the woman swat her husband hard on his arm. Yep, I had seen that reaction often enough too. The man had been clay in my wife’s hands.

"Oh on the contrary, Mr. Wagner didn’t want to pay the asking price for ‘Motherhood’. Mrs. Wagner on the other hand was willing to pay any price. I guess she didn’t want me to think her husband was cheap." I just shook my head. Why do I ever doubt her? Cause you’re such a yutz that’s why. Did I ask you? I did not, so butt out! "You sold ‘Motherhood’? Wow that’s so cool!"

‘Motherhood’ was a nude depicting a mother breast feeding her child surrounded by baby animals: Snow Leopards, White and Siberian Tigers. The painting had an ethereal quality to it due to the fact that the setting was neither in the forest or in the heavens, they were just there sort of floating. The muted shades of blue, pinks, oranges, and white were blended together to create a mystical quality. The woman looked very much like my angel, long dark hair, blowing in a gentle breeze, blue eyes gazing lovingly down while nursing her child, a blonde haired little pixie, her emerald eyes returning her mother’s adoring gaze with one of her own. The woman carried a wistful expression and I sometimes wondered if my heart was sad because she never was able to bear and nurture a child of her own. The one thing I could never give my world was a child, and that was the one regret I would carry with me to the grave. I am so sorry my heart. I felt a hip bump sensually into my own, which snapped me out of my daydreaming.

"Hey where did you go to?" My lover asked.

"Humm? Oh no where in particular. Uh Becca…" Don’t go there smartass. Leave sleeping dogs lie. Butt out!!

"What hon."

"Do you…I mean…have you…missed anything being married to me?" My wife stared at me like I had just arrived from another planet.

"Babe what on earth are you talking about?"

"Well I was just thinking of the painting and…" Becca stopped me as we reached the car.

"You listen to me and listen good. I have absolutely no…understand no…regrets. I would never trade one single second with you for the ability to birth all children in the world." Tol ya! "I have had a wonderful life, and intend to enjoy it for many, many years to come. I have a loving wife, a beautiful daughter, and a lovely home; what on earth do I have to complain about?" The schmuuck wife you’re married to for starters. "My darling, I love you."

"Guess I’m being an idiot huh?" My angel kissed me sweetly.

"You do have your moments. Now may be go home now, please?"

"Yes ma’am."

Chapter 2: Evening

I really love this time of day; I used it as a time to take stock of my life, everything I had, everything that is important to me. Of course topping the list is my angel and our baby girl. Harley and Angie come next, then Margie and all our friends. Don’t get me wrong, this listing isn’t in the order of importance. Well except for the first two. They are my world, my life. Everything I have, everything I’ve accomplished comes through them, for them. My work is important only because it gives us a better life. I know that sounds callous; even cold. But my work would be all consuming if I didn’t have Becca and Syd to balance my life. They give me a reason for being.

My revere was shattered when two large dogs came crashing into the den, over the top of sofa where I was relaxing, and around the coffee table, barking and growling in their impromptu game of tug of war. A split second after their unannounced and unwelcomed entrance came a screaming, furious teenager vaulting over the couch as well, yelling something about her favorite sweatshirt. Upon closer inspection, and after having recovered from my near fatal heart attack, I did happen to see what was left of a gray shirt with, what at one time looked to have had, a picture of Ricky Martin on the front. God I didn’t need this much excitement in one day. Note to self: see about installing a lock on MY den door.

"All right that’s enough!" I shouted. Instant and utter silent permeated the room. My dogs dropped the sorely abused shirt and laid down, the picture of innocence. Sydnee René picked up what was left of her beloved piece of clothing; I thought she was going to cry. The shirt was once she has taken to a live concert and waited on line, in the pouring rain, catching a terrible cold for her trouble, to get it personally autographed by the singer.

"Mom look what they did! It’s ruined," Syd wailed. They chewed right through where he signed it! Can’t you do something?"

"Honey what do you want me to do? Shoot ‘em?" Syd seriously considered that option. "How did they get a hold of it anyway?"

"It was lying on the floor," my daughter replied sheepishly. I sighed and walked over to where she stood and wrapped my arm around her shoulders. I glared at my now penitent pooches.

"You two had better make yourselves scarce," I growled. Like a shot, Nip and Tuck were out the door heading for the beach and relative safety. "And you…" I turned to my heartsick daughter. "…have to learn to keep your things picked up or close the door to your bedroom. You have to take responsibility or suffer the consequences."

"I know. I guess this is a hard way to learn huh?"

"Yeah I’d say so. Now, except for the mutilated shirt, how was your day?"

"Oh it was cool mom! I got an ‘A’ on my research paper on the Renaissance; Mrs. H still has to record the grades, then I'll bring it home to show you. And we’ve been working really hard in practice, and we have our first game this Friday night against Hollywood High. You and mother will be there right? Coach Askins said we really have a good chance to win all city, the district, and maybe even state if we keep working hard. You will come right?"

"Honey have we ever missed any game you ever played, or any play or concert? At least with out a darn good excuse?"

My daughter shook her head ashamed she would even think we’d miss any activity in which she participated. I tried my damnedest to always be there for my girl. There were times when a surgery went long, or some trauma interrupted our lives, but I was very proud of the fact that I never let my work become all consuming, at the expense of my family. I had a rule: ‘I work to live, not live to work". It was actually engraved on a frame that held a picture of my wife and child I kept on my desk in my office. When work became too intrusive, all I had to do was look at that picture, and my priorities straightened right out.

"Honey of course we’ll be at the game. It starts at 7:30 right?" My little girl’s eyes lit up with joy.

"You knew all the time didn’t you?"

"Yep. I called your coach for season tickets and got your schedule, which you forgot to bring home."

"Oh…heh…yeah I guess I did. Will gram and gramps be able to come too? I mean with her heart and stuff…I."

"Hon, Harley and Angie wouldn’t miss it for the world. I already called them and they’re coming down Friday afternoon and spend the weekend. Your mum, grams, and Margie are going to plan Thanksgiving dinner."

"Mom?" Syd asked softly. I could tell by the tone of voice this conversation was about to take a more serious turn.

"Yes baby."

"Uh…is…uh…is grams gonna die? I want the truth; I can handle it. You and mother aren’t keeping something from me cause you think I’m too young to deal with stuff are you?" Oh God are we? Jesus, I can barely handle this. How do I expect a sixteen-year-old kid, who thinks the world of her grams, to handle it too? Cause you’re being too overprotective. Give the kid some credit. Yeah she deserves that much from us.

"No honey, God we’re…its just…"

"Syd we’re not hiding anything. We’d never do that to you." A low deep alto voice resonated across the room. The soothing tones were a balm to my soul. "But we haven’t, all three of us, actually sat down to talk about grams have we?" I took my wife and daughter in my arms and held them, breathing in their sweet comforting scent.

"I think now would be a good time don’t you babe?" I asked my soul.

Becca nodded and the three of us settled down on the over stuffed couch. We huddled together to try to come to terms with gram’s illness and the potential the situation had to plunge our family into a grief unlike anything we had ever experienced. I wanted to shield my ladies from that hurt and pain, but how could I? How does one prepare oneself for the death of someone who has become as constant in your life as day and night and the air you breathe. God help me, I had no answer. I could only pray and wait and hope death would never touch my heart and soul. I tried to put into words what I knew for sure without sounding clinical, professionally detached…well…like a doctor. We had gotten some more test results, blood work, MRI’s, CT scans, that sort of thing. They were all good. Dr. Anderson was very pleased.

"Babe the latest results from the tests grams had are good. So right now, the disease isn’t progressing. Her heart enlargement isn’t growing and the blood work was really good.

"But is she gonna die?" I answered my baby girl as truthfully as I could.

"Honey we’re all going to die. We just don’t know when. Angie could die tomorrow from a massive coronary; but then so could I. What I’m trying to say is there are no guarantees in this life. Baby when it’s your time, it’s your time and there’s nothing we doctors can do about it. I wish I could; but I can’t. The important thing is to enjoy grams, all of us, while she’s here. Don’t worry about tomorrow. Do the best you can for today. Let God take care of tomorrow." Damn smartass, you just might turn into something worthwhile someday. Ya think? The three of us lay there on the couch cuddled together each lost in her own thoughts. We lay there for some time before the subject of food came up, or rather, my stomach brought up the subject, loudly.

"God mom, that is so rude."

"I can’t help it. I have no control over the sounds my stomach makes. Give me a break here."

"Well, I guess we’ll just have to feed the beast," my wife teased, at which point my stomach chose to sound off once more. Syd laughed.

"Mom, you should think about having a tube inserted so you have food entering and exiting your stomach all the time, then your stomach would never have to worry about missing a meal, and the rest of us wouldn’t have to listen to that."

"You’re a real hoot child." Then Syd’s stomach growled loudly.

"Oh my God I’m surrounded by uncouth animals," Becca complained. Our two dogs raised their heads and whined plaintively. "Sorry guys, didn’t mean to insult you. Look I can’t stand anymore of this, so let’s order some pizza."

"Aaaallll righhhhtttt mother! Can we order from Anthony’s? They have the best sausage and mushroom deep dish."

"Yeah they do, but they don’t deliver and…"

"Yes they do mom; they just started, Kylie told me."

"How does Kylie know baby?" Becca inquired.

"Jason works there." Becca and I just looked at each other. Hey she ‘s a teenager, you have to know how to speak her language. Oh and I suppose you know what the point is? Silence. I thought so.

"Honey that’s great, but who’s Jason?" Syd started to roll her eyes, then thought better of it. I hate that.

"Mom, Jason Leonard is Kylie’s boyfriend. He’s the new driver; he delivers pizza. " Again I glanced over to my life. Becca only smiled and shrugged.

"I thought Kylie was dating Michael what’s-his-name, uh Dawson."

"No mom, that was two boyfriends ago." Damn, ya need a program with these kids.

"Syd, you aren’t…uh…having…"

"Mother!!!" Oops a slight miscalculation. Syd never calls me mother. "You know I’m not interested in sleeping around." This time my angel interrupted.

"Sydnee René I should hope not!" I couldn’t help but laugh. This conversation had taken place on more than one occasion, and Syd’s reaction was always the same. At one point, I was beginning to think there was something wrong with her. What does that tell you about our society’s expectations, specifically parents, for their children’s behaviors.

"Honey we know you don’t sleep around, and we’re very proud of that. And babe when you do decide to take that step, in a relationship, you know we will be here to talk. It’s a decision that should never be taken lightly." Syd kissed my cheek.

"Mom I want what you guys have?" She want’s to be gay? And just what the hell’s the matter with that? There are worse things ya know. "I want to find someone to spend the rest of my life with. You two set a really high standard to live up to ya know." I was flabbergasted.

"Syd, pumpkin, we don’t…I mean…honey, we don’t expect you to life your live according to our standards. I mean, sure we have standards, and we have expectations, but don’t think you have to be just like us in order to be happy. For God’s sakes, I would be the last person…" Syd stopped me.

"Mom, I know that, but you and mother have always been so cool together, I’d like to have that too. Ya know someone to love me unconditionally, forever? I know there is someone out there for me, and I’m gonna wait until I find that person. And I know I’ll find them someday. Now I’m gonna go order pizza, ‘kay?" Huh, how’d I get so lucky? Who knows? Sometimes it’s better to be lucky than smart. I really am very lucky indeed.. The pizza arrived in short order, and brought me back to reality.

"So what do we have here?" I asked.

"I ordered a extra large deep dish cheese, sausage, mushroom, and black olive. That should be enough for the three of us right?" I nodded. "Can we eat in the living room and watch TV?"

"I don’t know; can we." Syd hated it when I corrected her grammar usage, but she was learning.

"Ooohhh mom; may we?"

"Sure. Your mother and I thought we’d watched Grumpy Old Men and Grumpier Old Men, and then maybe The Odd Couple, that okay with you?"

"Oh yeah, I love those movies. I even made Ange rent Hello Dolly the last time I stayed over at her place. She grumbled and moaned, but laughed herself silly watching it. I thought Sisters was good too. Too bad that was his last movie."

"Yeah he was a wonderful actor," Becca added. "Hey let’s get the napkins, the drinks and cuddle up on the couch."

"Mom may we have a fire too?"

"Absolutely. Sounds good to me!"

Did I mention I liked this time of day?

Chapter 3: Gym Rats

One thing Becca and I prided ourselves on was the fact that we never pushed Syd to do anything she didn’t want to do. We are very proud of Syd’s independent, outgoing nature. She worked very hard in school because she wanted to succeed. We emphasized the importance of an education first, fun second. We tried very hard never to implant the idea that school was ‘fun’. It isn’t; it’s work, very hard work. The whole point of school, to my way of thinking, is to prepare a person for life, to survive in the real work-a-day world, not just play basketball or football. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to ‘be like Mike’, I suppose, but what’s wrong with being yourself? We taught Syd to set her goals high; if she wanted to play in the WNBA, go for it, but not to the exclusion of her education. Evidently she took us seriously because she got good grades: nothing below a 4.0 to be exact. She was even on schedule to graduate a year ahead of people her age. That sorta bothered me a little. I knew how much Ange, Kylie, and the rest of her friends meant to her. I just didn’t want her to be hurt in any way. If there was one thing I wanted more than that was that she find her soul mate, and gender wasn’t even an issue. The only requirement was the person promise to never hurt my baby or I’d hurt them. Where have I heard that before? Yeah I know. I understand so much more now. It certainly does make a difference when it’s your child you worry about. The shoe is definitely different when it’s on the other foot. Well that took a merry little turn didn’t it?

The one thing about our family and friends was we were an active bunch. Becca and I were both athletes in college, and as we got older, and Syd came along, we just naturally included her in our activities as a family, and she dragged us into hers. Then as she got older, her natural athletic prowess took over and she went out for all the sports she could. She lettered in her three favorite sports: soccer, softball, and basketball. Although she liked to play volleyball, her short stature precluded her from earning a letter.

Basketball season had started and we were avid fans and participants. We held season tickets for the Lakers and the Bruins. Rachel and the trauma center nutritionist, Tracey Lowell, organized an interdepartmental basketball team. Every unit had a coed team, and we played a regular season complete with a tournament to determine the champion team. We had a trophy and everything. The whole idea was to promote a healthy lifestyle and the importance of exercise, but the teams actually did wonders for morale and positive attitudes throughout the center. The best part it was a lot of fun, and was a way for everyone’s families to spend time together. Irish happened to be the coach of the combined ER, OR, and Trauma Unit team. So it was a natural progression for Syd to become interested in athletics, and was no big surprise.

I suppose my ol’ man’s lack of interest in anything I did in school, academic or otherwise, was a catalyst for my active interest in anything and everything my daughter did. When I died, and my final reckoning was at hand, I wanted no one to be able to say I neglected my baby girl. I saw too much abuse and neglect on a day to day basis. I suppose because I was a victim of abuse and neglect, I worked all the harder to make sure my daughter was never victimized in the same way.

The high school team had a new coach, and Harley hadn’t been too impressed to begin with. He felt she had no eye for talent. He couldn’t understand why Syd wasn’t just automatically made point guard and be done with it. Of course it was difficult for me to be objective, but Coach Askins had held tryouts to sort through her talent. It made sense from a coaching point of view, if not a parent or grandparents view point. We had tried to get to know Coach Askins, but the woman was a bit aloof, and I wasn’t sure the kids were really responding to her the way they did with Coach Walker, who took a position at Presnell, our alma mater. The kids and Coach Askins had a period of adjustment to get through. Her coaching style was just a little more intense than Walker’s was and that in itself took some getting used to, added to the fact that as Harley put it, "she had her undies in a bunch." I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt, but it was becoming more difficult by the day.

Friday rolled around, and the usual morning routine went pretty much the way it always did. The hectic, ordered chaos was nothing out of the ordinary. Margie shouted orders at the dogs and I, but was almost sickeningly sweet to Syd and Becca. Oh well I had broad shoulders.

"So what time do you have to be at the gym tonight sweetie?" I asked my little girl. God I have to stop thinking of her in those terms. She’s growing into a beautiful young woman, and I still think of her as a child.

"5:30," Syd replied.

"Why so early?" Becca asked?

"Well coach wants us to eat together." I nearly sucked my omelet into my lungs.

"She wants you to what?" Oh now that was just a bit much. Who does this broad think she is anyway? I can see a college team eating together, but high school. C’mon give me a break.

"I know mom; it sounded a bit over the top to me too. She’s even got this diet program she wants all of us to stay on. If we don’t, we’re off the team." Damn pushy ain’t she? "There are some other things that are a bit strange too. She yells a lot." So do you; Syd should be used to that! "She really let Kylie have it for not getting back quickly enough on defense. She said we’d lose too many games on poor transition defense alone. I thought she overdid it, and so did the other girls. She almost had Kylie in tears. I don’t know mom; basketball used to be fun, and we still won most of our games; it’s not any more." Both Becca and I looked at each other coming to the same decision instantly.

"Listen darling," Becca said as she stroked Syd’s blonde locks, "if this isn’t fun for you anymore, don’t think you have to keep going. If you want to quit, it’s all right with us."

"I just figured you’d expect me to keep going. You always said don’t give up. Quitting is like giving up."

"Baby, if you give something your best effort, and decide it isn’t for you, there’s no shame in quitting. We certainly won’t think any less of you for that. Baby we love you and want you to be happy. Basketball is just a game for God’s sake, not a matter if life and death!" Our baby girl looked at us both for reassurance. Evidently she found what she was looking for because she smiled, and kissed us both.

"Thanks mom, I’ll think about it." About that time, Ange came into the room to pick Syd up for school.

"Hey coach, Mrs. McGregor, how are you this morning?" Ange dove into a bowl of fruit sitting on the table.

"We’re fine Ange, how bout you? Would you like to sit down and join us for breakfast?" My lover smiled.

"Oh know that’s okay Mrs. M, I already ate," Ange mumbled around a mouthful of honeydew melon. Besides we gotta go Syd, we have a team meeting before school remember?"

"Oh damn, I forgot. Mom, Mother, I have to go. I’ll see you at the game. Will gram and gramps be there too?"

"Yeah hon, have a good day. You too Ange."

"Thanks coach; see you guys tonight, bye." Just like that the two whirling dervishes were out the door.

I sat there for a minute while Becca poured another cup of coffee. I could never hope to keep my thoughts from the other half of my soul; I knew I was busted by the loving smile on my lover’s face.

"C’mere you," I whispered, "I want to hold and kiss you." My angel sat in my lap and wrapped her long arms around my neck. This put her lovely breasts at just the right level, and I couldn’t resist burying my face in the cleavage between the luscious mounds of flesh. My world stroked my hair as I kissed the swell of her breast.

"I love you," my wife whispered."

"I love you too," I murmured in return. "So what do you think?" I asked. Becca snorted softly.

"You’re asking me what I think after you’ve already made up you’re mind what you’re going to do?" Oh why do I open myself up for this?

"Baby please, I’m worried about this. I have a really bad feeling about this Coach Askins." Whenever I made any kind of allusion to my feelings, Becca knew I was really concerned.

"What are you talking about honey?"

"Baby you know Syd; my God she wouldn’t give up on anything even if her life depended on it. Coach Walker thought Syd had a chance for a full ride scholarship to any major university she wanted. She is that good. And now she’s talking about quitting? It would take something really major for her to do that. I think it’s time for a little visit to see the coach. What do you think?" I waggled my eyebrows mischievously.

"You know how embarrassed Syd gets when we talk to her teachers."

"We’re not talking to her teachers, just her coach. Besides, as a doctor, I want to look at this 'diet’ she’s got cooked up. C’mon ya wanna play good cop-bad cop?" My lover just rolled her eyes. Did I mention I hated that?

"You’ll be late for work."

"I own the joint, don’t matter if I’m late or not. ‘Sides once Irish finds out why I’m late she’ll want to know why I came in at all."

"You’re right this is important. Okay, but you can’t hurt her too badly, not at first anyway." Yess!!!

*******************

We drove into the high school parking lot just a little after 9:30. I got out of the Jag and went around the other side to open the door for my heart. The look in Becca’s eyes was unmistakable. I thought of the many times were arrived to and from school together all those years ago.

"It’s been a long time since we drove to high school together hasn’t it?" My wife whispered.

"Yeah it has, but your still as beautiful as ever," I replied as I nuzzled my wife’s neck. "I like you a whole bunch." My angel chuckled softly.

"I like you too, a whole bunch."

I took my lover’s hand in mine and we walked into the side door to the gymnasium. This was the quickest way to the coaches’ office. There was a P.E. class in session in the gym, and I noticed Kylie in the front tier of students ready to do her sprints. God I hated doing wind sprints. They all but killed me, but they did develop good lung capacity. Linda Garrison, who was also the assistant basketball coach, was conducting the class. Linda noticed us enter the building and came over to say hello.

"Hey Dr. and Mrs. McGregor, it’s good to see you. You coming to the game tonight?" She asked. "Just a second. Okay class, let’s divide up into teams, and run some lay-up drills. Sorry about that."

"No problem," I replied, "we didn’t mean to interrupt your class, we came in to see Coach Askins. She in her office." Coach Garrison nodded.

"Oh yeah; she’s there." The slightly sarcastic tone in her voice was hard to miss. Becca and I exchanged glances.

"Well we won’t keep you Linda, see you tonight," Becca said as we turned down the hall to the coaches’ office. I couldn’t help but think of another trip Becca and I made to the coaches’ office a long time ago. A small smile crept slowly across my face. I wonder what ever happened to coach’s desk? I knocked purposefully on the door and got a stern, curt response.

"Come." Becca and I entered the office, but the woman sitting behind her desk barely acknowledged our presence. Oooo, I can tell this is not going to go well. Doesn’t look like it does it. Nope.

"Excuse us Coach Askins, but we would like a moment of your time." Still the blonde woman never looked up. All right I’ve tried nice, now the gloves come off. "Coach Askins, my name is Dr. Stacey McGregor, this is my wife Rebecca, we’re Sydnee’s parents. I’d like to talk to you about this diet you’re considering putting the team on." Ms. Askins began speaking before raising her head.

"There is no considering to it Dr…" When she finally looked at the two of us, or should I say specifically at Becca, Coach Askins’s jaw dropped. Thank you Becca, you are such a good distraction. I slammed my hand down on the desk to get her attention.

"No Coach Askins, you are not through considering," I hissed, "there are a lot more considerations yet to go through. I will not allow you to determine what sort of diet my daughter will be placed on without my consent. Do I make myself clear?" The shocked woman glared at me for a moment before she decided I was someone not to take lightly.

"Well of course Dr. McGregor if you and your…wife…feel that strongly about this, by all means take a look at the diet. I have a copy right here. If you’ll notice, this diet was developed for the Florida State University football team. It is…"

"Totally unacceptable. This diet is loaded with proteins and low on, or virtually without, carbohydrates. You have little or no roughage. There is a reason there are four major food groups. A balanced diet is essential for growing young adolescents. This diet is fine for a 250-pound linebacker, but not for a sixteen-year-old girl who is still growing. Prolonged intake of nothing but proteins is death on the kidneys. A diet of meat and cheese is not one we will allow our daughter, nor any other young woman on this team to consume. And now Coach Askins the considerations are at an end. Oh by the way, our daughter will not be eating with the team before home games." Becca hadn’t said a word; she just pinned the blonde woman with her cobalt eyes. Her gaze was cold and hard. When she did speak her low, contralto, menacing tone sent shivers up and down my spine.

"Unless you think my wife…emphasis on the word wife… is making idle threats, let me assure you our next stop before returning home will be to the superintendent’s office. I took the liberty make a few calls before I came over here." Phone calls? What’s up with that? Pay attention smartass, you might learn something. Haven’t you ever played poker?

"I found out some very interesting things in your resume that didn’t quite ring true. It’s amazing what you can find out when you know the right people. Good day Coach Askins."

Becca and I walked out and across campus to the superintendent’s office.

"What phone calls? You never made any phone calls."

"You know that; she doesn’t." Ooohhh! Hello!

"Are we going to see the superintendent?"

"Yes dear we are. We’re going to do a little planting." What?

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Doubt darling, we’re planting seeds of doubt. Besides, you were right, your bad feeling was right on target. There is something there that doesn’t ring true. I want to talk to Superintendent Vargas and find out where this woman came from."

I can hear audible groans out there in the Xenaverse. This is no way the end; you might call this a teaser. Thanksgiving Part II will follow shortly. After all we still have a few days till Thanksgiving gets here. Let me know what you think?