A/N: When I brought Carol into Mike's story, I decided it was time to start writing hers. As before, thanks to Woemcat for allowing me to use the first names she came up with for Carol's mother, sister, niece, and first husband. And of course, many thanks to everyone who's been reading and reviewing Mike's story; I hope you'll enjoy Carol's story just as much.

HIS DREAM GIRL

Carol Tyler was a worrier by nature. She didn't know where she got it from; she just did. Her parents, especially her father, were easygoing and assured, and they'd always been her rocks, her source of support. When something went wrong, she just naturally turned to them.

Now, she reflected, when she started worrying, she'd have Roy to turn to. He was strong and sure and capable, and quite a bit more experienced in life than she was, as he was six years older. He'd been engaged once but it hadn't worked out, and when Carol had first met him he'd been unhappy and lonely. Now, two years later, they were about to get married, and Roy constantly referred to her as his "dream girl", the one he should have met first. Roy had a pretty way with words, and he could make her feel beautiful and special, when she normally considered herself an ordinary-looking little worrywart sandwiched in between her pretty and popular older sister, Mary, and her handsome and equally popular younger brother, Jack.

"All set to change your name, Kitty?" asked Henry Tyler then, poking his head into Carol's bedroom, the one she'd had since she was ten years old and was feeling nostalgic over already.

Carol glanced around and smiled. "Sure, Dad." She decided to overlook Henry's use of the old family nickname, given to her very early in her life because her initials spelled out CAT. "It'll be sad, though, moving out of my comfy room."

"Thought you were looking forward to having your very own home and your very own husband to take care of," put in her sister Mary from behind her. "Stand still, so I can finish putting up your hair."

"I am," Carol said. "Aren't I allowed to miss my old room and everything else? Besides, you were just as sorry to leave your nice big bedroom when you married Roger."

Mary Everhart snorted. "That was only because Jack went and took it over with his endless, infernal model warplanes. Where are we going to put the baby now when we come over to visit?" Mary was six months pregnant; she was four years older than Carol and had been married for a bit more than three years, all of which time she and Roger had spent trying to have a baby. The whole family was very excited about the child; Roger and Mary hadn't settled on a name yet, and for weeks there'd been a lively debate going on, picking up steam with every week the parents-to-be failed to reach a decision.

Jack, two years younger and a college student whose biggest goal in life was to make enough money to be able to travel abroad as often as he liked, stuck his head in the door. "Hey, Dad, Mr. and Mrs. Martin just got here and Roy's right behind them, and Mom wants to know where you are."

"I'm coming, I'm coming," said Henry with an air of weary, affectionate tolerance. "Say, Kitty, want me to send your mother up?"

"That'd be great, thanks, Dad," Carol said, and Henry winked and departed, with Jack behind him.

"Why didn't you tell him to stop using that silly nickname?" Mary asked idly, pinning up some more of Carol's long golden-blonde hair.

"Oh, I don't mind if he uses it," Carol said, shrugging. "I guess he's used it for so long he's forgotten my real name."

"He'll have to remember it starting in a few hours," Mary noted humorously. "You're about to switch last initials, after all. And besides, Kitty strikes me as a child's nickname. You look a lot more like a Carol than a Kitty, at least to me."

Carol grinned. "I think I feel more like a Carol than a Kitty, now that I'm about to become a married woman."

In the mirror she saw Mary's face grow sober. "Carol, are you really sure Roy Martin's the right guy for you? Are you absolutely positive?"

Bewildered, Carol frowned. "Of course I'm sure. Why wouldn't I be? You were absolutely positive about Roger."

"Carol, that was me. This is you. And we may be sisters, but we're two different people, don't forget that," Mary said, a little impatiently. "Look, I don't want to cause any trouble or anything, but I…I just have this really weird feeling about Roy. He's so much older than you are, and he's been around the block more than once, from the look of him. There's something about him that just makes me…" She trailed off, as if searching for the right word, and Carol waited a moment.

When Mary didn't continue, she prodded, "Makes you what?"

Mary compressed her lips and secured the last lock of her sister's hair. "Mmph," she finally mumbled.

"Chicken," Carol said, eyeing her sister reprovingly in the mirror.

Mary eyed her right back. "Cluck, cluck," she said, deadpan.

Carol lowered her chin and let her expression grow stern. "Mary Cathleen Tyler Everhart…"

Mary sighed and shook her head. "I don't know, Carol, it's just that there's something about Roy that kind of rubs me the wrong way somehow. I can't pin it down. He's just…older…"

"Only six years, for heaven's sake. You make it sound like I'm marrying one of Dad's friends," Carol said accusingly, hurt. "I'm not as naïve as I look."

"But you're so innocent," Mary said helplessly. "You…you always wanted to grow up and have babies and take care of a guy, and there's nothing wrong with that…if it's the right guy and he appreciates it. I just think Roy knows he's about to have a life of leisure."

"How do you figure that? He works!" Carol exclaimed.

"And that's all he'll ever do," Mary retorted. "When he gets home at night he'll probably yell, 'Where's supper?' and flop on the couch and put his feet on the table and turn on the ballgame on TV. He'll expect you to have the house clean and his food cooked and his shirts ironed, and at the same time have a party dress on and your hair all done up and your face made up, like Donna Reed and Harriet Nelson."

Carol shot her a look. "I'm not going to be wearing pearls, sister dear."

Mary groaned. "Oh, Carol! I'm just saying…" She sighed and shook her head, slumping a little. "I don't know, maybe I'm wrong. His parents seemed really nice when we met them that time. Maybe Roy just presents a whole different personality from what he's really got." She looked up, pleading. "I just don't want to see my little sister get hurt."

"He won't hurt me," Carol said. "He really wants to make a good life for me."

"Okay," said Mary. "It's your wedding, sis. Well, you're ready, let's get downstairs."

Within the hour, Carol Ann Tyler and Roy Arthur Martin were married in a solemn church ceremony that culminated in a honeymoon trip to Catalina Island. Two months later, Carol learned to her surprise and delight that she was expecting a baby. "So soon?" Roy asked when she told him.

"Yes…it must have happened on our honeymoon," Carol said happily. "The doctor says I'm eight weeks along. Isn't it wonderful?"

Roy shrugged. "I guess," he agreed. "I just thought we were gonna wait a while." He approached her and wrapped his arms around her and smiled down at her. "I was looking forward to lots of time alone with my dream girl, that's all."

"But it's going to be our child," Carol said, staring back at him. "Our son or daughter."

Roy kissed her. "I know. I don't mean to be a downer on things, baby. I guess I just need some time to get used to the idea of being a father." He grinned suddenly. "Imagine that, me a dad. Y'know, it just might be fun, playing baseball with the kid and teaching him the workings of cars."

"It might be a girl," Carol teased.

"Naw, we'll have a boy first. Girls can come later. Yeah…yeah, this just might be a good thing," Roy mused, smiling broadly. "I'm proud of you, baby. Hey, you know, I just might have to stop calling you 'baby' after we have a real one in the house. How 'bout just 'dream girl'?"

"Anything you like, dearest," Carol said softly and melted under his kiss. She could hardly wait to be a mother, and she knew Roy would love their child, boy or girl.