Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, I only write for fun and entertainment, not for profit.

A/N: A big Thank You to my Beta reader Tanith!

Broken Date

From day one young Steve Keller had struck me as someone who was really keen on the job, motivated to learn and always willing to put in the extra time and effort that a profession like ours demands. Sometimes he was even a bit too eager, like a puppy bounding off after a ball. But of course, in terms of age and experience he was only a baby.

It took him a few weeks to get comfortable with me; I suppose I can be a bit overpowering. Like a steam roller- my daughter Jeannie says. And I know I have a temper, but again- according to Jeannie - I'm a big softie at heart.

Anyway, after a few weeks I thought the kid was beginning to feel more relaxed around me, he even had taken to calling me Mike instead of "yes Sir and no Sir". Sometimes he even dared to contradict me and give his opinion. He must have realised by then, that my bark is worse than my bite. To be honest, I had grown very fond of the kid in the short time I had known him, and had great hopes for his professional and personal development. His judgement and maturity for someone so young never failed to surprise me, he had his occasional lapses, of course, but that was only to be expected from a rookie.

So when he asked me for a day off, I felt he really deserved it and would have gladly granted it. Unfortunately he was scheduled for a court appearance that day. Okay, I could have probably swung it, but I thought that as part of his education, he needed to realise that work comes first. I did ask him though, why he needed the day and he wasn't very forthcoming with information.

But that's our Steve for you. He can chat about almost anything and crack jokes when all of a sudden he clams up. I haven't quite figured out when he does his bivalve act, but believe me, I will. All the information he was willing to share was, that he wanted to spend the day with a lady.

Oh, Steve and his ladies! What am I going to do with the boy? In the few months he has been working for me, I recall at least four or five different girls, and I could have missed some.

So I thought nothing of turning down his request. He looked very disappointed, but I assumed it was just over an outing with a new girl. Therefore I didn't see any reason to try and get the court to reschedule his testimony in the trial. The worst thing that might have happened was that he had dumped the girl - or she had dumped him - by the time we had rearranged his day off. He never mentioned it again. In hindsight I should have noticed some subtle changes in his behaviour.

But on the day he had originally wanted to take off, I was really beginning to worry about Steve. It is so unlike him to go into a sulk, but he was dragging his feet and barely spoke to me. It was well into the afternoon now and there was still no sign of Steve relenting. I wasn't sure how I was going to address this, but I needed to clear the air before things got really awkward between us. So I called him into my office and closed the door behind him.

"Are you still sore I couldn't give you the day off?" I eventually asked the opening question.

"Nah, it's ok. I'm sure she won't mind," Steve answered distractedly, avoiding eye contact with me.

"Who is she? Someone I know? All right, I admit it, I'm nosy, but I have to ask detailed questions or I'll lose track of your string of girlfriends."

"You wouldn't know her," he didn't elaborate.

"Oh, come on, give - what is she like?"

For the first time since I turned down his request for a day off, his face softened.

"She's wonderful, her hair smells real good and she is warm and soft and her voice – I could listen to her for hours. And when she hugs me..." he blushed and stopped abruptly.

I had never heard him talking about any of his previous girlfriends like that. It seemed serious, but something was off there, too.

"I think I get the idea. Well, she sounds lovely, the perfect woman. When will I meet her?"

I must have said the wrong thing, because his face changed again, there was a deep sadness there and he seemed to blink away some moisture gathering his eyes.

"Never, at least not in this life; my mother died fifteen years ago today."

So I really put my foot in it. The poor kid had wanted a day off for his mother's anniversary and I had assumed he wanted to spend time with a new girlfriend. Oh my! Had I but known...

"Steve, why didn't you say so?" I was appalled at myself.

He looked at me with a puzzled expression on his face. "It wouldn't have changed anything. I was needed in court this morning."

"Sure, but I could have spoken to the Judge and maybe he could have brought your testimony forward. Now, wait a minute, it is still early. Where is she buried?"

"In Modesto," he answered.

"The way you drive you'll make it there and back. Or do you want to stay overnight?" I offered.

"What do you mean, go now?" he seemed surprised at my suggestion.

"Sure, why not? The days are long this time of the year."

The idea of a little boy attending the funeral of his mother... I looked at Steve now and imagined him alone at the grave of his mother fifteen years on and I didn't like this idea, either.

"Steve?" I asked tentatively "Would you like me to come with you?"

The gratitude in his eyes almost broke my heart.

"Would you?"

"Sure, or I wouldn't have offered! I can't meet your mother, but you can tell me about her during the drive."

Uncharacteristically for Steve he let me drive and settled quietly into the passenger seat, with a pair of sunglasses hiding his eyes and his head leaning against the window.

After a while he started. "I can barely remember her now. I was ten when she died." There was a catch in his voice.

"The way you described her earlier on, you seemed to remember quite a bit!" I tried to encourage him.

Slowly but surely the memories first came trickling, and then gushing out. Emotions, snippets of memories and events - real or imagined, remembered or told by relatives - it all created the picture of a woman who adored her son and a boy who deeply loved his mother.

"What do you normally do on her anniversary?" I eventually asked.

"I put flowers on her grave; I try and pick some wild flowers, because she loved them. I also put a little stone on her grave every year, a tradition my aunt started with me. Sometimes I put a sea shell or a special piece of wood. I always try and pick something that I associate with a nice memory."

"That's a beautiful thing to do. We'll stop at the next convenient field and you can pick your flowers. Have you got your stone?"

"Yep, I've had it in my pocket for a while." Again I noticed a blush creeping up his face. He hesitated, "I kind of carry it for good luck."

"I think it is a wonderful tradition you started. I'll tell Jeannie about it; maybe we will do something similar on Helen's anniversary."

Now I was the one with a catch in my voice. This autumn would be the first time I would go to Helen's grave on her anniversary alone; it would be Jeannie's first term in Arizona State and coming home during the week for an anniversary was just not possible. This brought me back to the young man sitting beside me, doing his best to keep his emotions in check.

"Do you normally go alone?" I probed. Steve had really never volunteered any information about his family.

"I used to go with my aunt and uncle. My uncle has Alzheimer's now and my aunt really doesn't get away from him much. I don't think they even know I'm still visiting the grave on her anniversary."

Oh dear, there was more going on there than I thought, though the aunt seemed alright if she could come up with such a lovely idea for a memorial that caught the imagination of a young child.

I reached out and patted the young man's knee. "Life can be unfair, buddy boy."

The smile appeared a bit strained and I'm sure it never reached his eyes hidden behind the dark glasses.

I stopped at a lay-by near a meadow full of flowers and let him go off on his own. I felt he needed a bit of space to regain his composure. He came back with a big bunch of various wild flowers, poppies, daisies, buttercups and some grass mixed in. Again, a very similar image popped up in my mind, a young Jeannie running towards Helen with a smile and an almost identical bunch of flowers in her hand…

He remained very quiet for the remainder of the journey, but I didn't need him to tell me how he felt, I only knew it too well myself.

When we arrived at the grave I wasn't sure whether to go with him or hang back, but decided to follow my gut feeling and stayed right by his side. While he arranged the flowers in a jar and went to the nearby faucet to fill it up with water, I read the inscriptions on the gravestone. Both his parents were buried there. I did my math; Steve must have been around two when his father died. So, as far as his memory went, it was always just him and his mother. I looked at the stones laid out in the shape of a spiral. Steve came back and put the flowers down. Then he took a pebble out of his pants pocket and arranged it next in line.

I had a closer look and recognised the stone. A couple of weeks ago Steve had joined me and Jeannie for a day on the beach. He and Jeannie were running around chasing each other, splashing in the surf like children and ended up drenched. I remembered them stopping in sudden awe when one of them discovered an almost round, shiny white pebble. I never noticed that Steve had kept it and I never would have guessed why. A happy memory - good. Maybe even some semblance of family life that Jeannie and I could give him - even better!

Once more I followed my instinct and I went over to him, put my arm around his waist and pulled him close. The first startled tension gave way almost instantly and he leaned his head against me. Then I did what I would do if I had Jeannie standing next to me, or any child of mine. I held him until he could accept the handkerchief I had ready for him.

Later, on our way back to San Francisco, I was driving again. I could tell that Steve was emotionally drained, but there was no embarrassment or tension between us. The sunglasses had come off and he didn't try and hide his red rimmed eyes.

"Mike, how can I ever pay you back for this?"

I chuckled. "That's very easy. Will you come to the graveyard with me on Helen's anniversary? Jeannie won't be there and I don't want to be on my own. It's an occasion when you need someone with you."

"Sure." He smiled, and this time his eyes were smiling, too. "You certainly need someone with you. Someone - but not just anyone!"