So this is one of *those* stories that I wrote and completely forgot about until I just recently found it again. I can't believe I've never published it on here before, as it's one of my favorite pieces! Just a one-shot inspired by Tim McGraw's "Don't Take the Girl". I do not own Home Improvement, or the song, but Dana Wilson is my OC! Enjoy :)
Dana
Tim Taylor loaded up his truck while his eight year old son, Brad, and his six year old son, Randy, discussed what giant fish they were going to catch on the lake that day.
"Hidey Ho, Neighbor Tim!" his neighbor, Wilson, called as he walked across the front lawn carrying a fishing rod and his tackle box.
"Hey Wilson," Tim waved.
The boys turned to wave at Wilson too, but frowned when they saw who he was with. Brad made a face when he saw a girl about his age with dark brown pigtails and a pink and purple fishing pole come bounding towards them alongside Wilson. "Who's that?"
"That's Wilson's niece, Dana," Tim said, lifting a cooler full of beer for him and Wilson, and juice boxes for the kids into the bed of the truck. "She's staying with him for the summer."
"Is she coming with us?" he asked.
"Yes," Tim nodded, picking up the picnic basket his wife Jill had packed and sticking it in the backseat.
"But she's a girl!" Randy protested, scrunching up his nose in disgust. "She can't come!"
Tim looked down at his sons and said, "Well we can't leave her behind. Look guys, I know you don't want her to go, but someday you'll change your mind."
Brad looked up at his father and begged, "Dad, take Jimmy Johnson. Take Tommy Thompson. Take Mark even! Take anybody that you want to, as long as she don't go. Take any boy in the world! Dad, please! Don't take the girl."
"Ok, first off Jimmy Johnson is out of town," Tim sighed. "And you don't even like Tommy Thompson. I would love for Mark to go with us, but your brother's only two years old, remember? Dana is coming with us, and the sooner you both get that through your thick heads, the better off we'll all be."
As Wilson and Dana approached Tim whispered harshly, "Be nice!"
"Hello boys," Wilson smiled as he put his and Dana's gear in the back of the truck.
"Hi Wilson," they muttered simultaneously. "Hi Dana."
"Hi Brad," she smiled, showing off a gap where her front tooth was missing. "Hi Randy."
"Alright," Tim said, slamming the truck's tailgate shut. "Let's head out to the lake!"
Brad sat swinging his legs off the side of the dock while his father and Wilson stood on the bank in ankle deep water with their lines out. Brad pulled his line quickly to the left then to the right, making the little red bobber jerk. He was bored. Nobody had caught a single fish all day. Randy had gotten bored too, and he had long abandoned his fishing pole to toss small rocks into the murky water of the lake. "Randy," Brad yelled at his brother, "quit that! You're scarin' off all the fish!"
Randy stuck his tongue out at him, but put the rocks down in favor of drawing in the mud with a near by stick. Brad sighed and looked over at Dana who sat in the same position as he was on the other side of the dock. Brad had to admit he was impressed. He thought for sure she would have given up by now and be begging to go home. He shrugged and turned his attention back to his own bobber, watching it bounce up and down on the soft waves.
Suddenly, Dana shrieked. "What is it?" Brad asked, whipping his blonde head around.
"I got a fish!" she cried with a grin. "I got a fish!"
"Reel it in," Wilson called from where he and Tim stood.
Dana scrambled to her feet and tugged with all her might. "I can't! He's too heavy!"
Brad immediately abandoned his own pole and ran over to where she stood. He grabbed onto her pink pole and together they tugged and reeled in the line until a fish popped out of the water. As soon as they got it up onto the dock, Wilson and Tim came up with Randy running behind them. "Great teamwork, guys!" Tim laughed.
Wilson got out his camera and told Dana to hold up the fish. Brad took a step away from her so he wouldn't be in the picture, but Dana was having none of it.
"We both caught it," she smiled, grabbing his hand and pulling him back.
Brad smiled too. Maybe hanging out with girls wasn't so bad after all. Not if they were all like Dana, anyway. They put their arms around each other as the camera flashed.
"Are you sure your dad's ok?" Dana Wilson asked her boyfriend, Brad Taylor, ten years later.
"Oh yeah," Brad nodded as they headed out of the studio where his father's television show, Tool Time, was filmed before a live audience. "Getting a table glued to his head's nothing. Once, he fell through the second floor of a house they were building. Broke both his legs."
"Wow," she laughed. Brad smiled. He loved the sound of her laugh. He leaned down and kissed her lips. "What was that for?" she asked, smiling when they broke apart.
"Because I love you," he said, for the first time telling her what he'd known for the past ten years.
Dana smiled even bigger and she threw her arms around his neck, digging her fingers into his blonde hair as she kissed him, much more intensely than he had just kissed her. They broke apart this time and Brad smiled breathlessly. "And that was because I love you too," she said, standing on her tip toes to kiss his cheek.
Brad took her hand in his and they continued to make their way to the exit when he groaned. "Oh man!"'
"What?" she asked as they stopped dead in their tracks.
"I told my dad I'd grab his stuff when they took him to the hospital," he sighed. "I'm gonna have to go back and get it."
"Ok," she nodded. "I'll just meet you by the car."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah."
"Do you want the keys?" he asked, already reaching into his pocket.
"Nope. It's a nice night out," she shrugged. "I'll be fine."
"Alright. I'll just be a few minutes."
"Take your time," she called over her shoulder, already making her way towards the parking lot.
Brad jogged back to his father's dressing room, picking up some papers, his pager, his mobile phone, and his jacket and tie. He paused for just a moment to admire the pictures tacked up on Tim's mirror. There was one of Brad with his brother's Randy and Mark on Brad's first day of high school four years ago. Another showed Randy smiling broadly, showing off the gap where his two front teeth were missing. There was a picture of Mark taking a picture, and one of Tim kissing Jill's cheek as she tried to read a book on their porch. Brad smiled. Crazy as Tim "the Tool Man" Taylor was, he had always been a wonderful father and a good husband. The kind of man Brad hoped to be one day. Just before he ducked out of the office, he spotted one last picture. It was him and Dana, both of them holding up a fish from that trip to the lake they'd taken so many years ago. Brad left the dressing room, thinking of taking Dana there for their next date. After all, that was the first time he'd realized that he was crazy for this girl.
As Brad neared the spot where he'd parked his car hours before, he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Something was wrong and his mind screamed at him to find Dana. His heart began to hammer in his chest. Beads of sweat broke out across his face. "Dana!" he called. No response. "Dana!" he called, louder this time. Still no response. A knot of panic settled in his stomach. He dropped his father's things and began to run towards the car, shouting her name the entire way. The only sound that rang in his ears was that of his own heartbeat.
When he reached the car, he saw a man with half his face covered and his arm around an unconscious Dana. The man had a gun pointed to her head. Brad stopped dead in his tracks. "If you do what I tell you to," the man said. "There won't be any harm."
Brad's chest tightened and he said, "Take my money, take my wallet, take my credit cards." He dug out his leather wallet and threw it on the ground in between him and the stranger. He took off his watch with an unsteady hand and said, "Here's the watch that my grandpa gave me." The man still didn't move. Brad pulled the keys to the 1968 Mustang he and his father had rebuilt out of his pocket and threw them on the ground too. "Here's the keys to my car. Mister give it a whirl," Brad said, his voice close to breaking, "but please, don't take the girl."
The man looked at the pile on the ground, then back at Brad. Suddenly, he threw Dana at Brad's feet, grabbing the keys and driving off. Brad scooped Dana up in his arms, using the edge of his shirt to wipe the blood off her bruised lip. He kissed her face before laying her gently down on the blacktop, running back to where he'd dropped his father's phone. He quickly dialed 911 and through his tears he told the operator what had happened. While he waited for the ambulance, he cradled Dana against his chest. After a few minutes, she woke up and looked up at the man she loved more than anything. "Hey," he whispered in relief.
"Is he gone?" she said hoarsely.
"Yeah," Brad nodded, brushing her hair away from her face. "He's gone."
Dana looked around briefly, then said, "He took your car."
Brad laughed. With all that had just happened to her, she was worried about his car? "I know. I don't care though. My main concern is you."
"Won't be when your dad finds out," she smiled weakly. "He's gonna kill you."
Brad laughed again as the ambulance pulled into the parking lot. "You let me worry about that, alright?"
"I love you, Brad."
"I love you too, Dana."
"Think she'll like it?" Brad Taylor asked, standing in his parent's kitchen two years later.
Jill Taylor looked at the ring inside the box her oldest son held out for her inspection. It was a gold band with a fair sized diamond in the middle of it. It was perfect. "It's beautiful," Jill breathed, tears stinging her eyes. "Dana's going to love it!"
"Aw Mom," Brad laughed as Jill reached for a tissue to dab her eyes.
"Brad," Tim said as he came in from the garage, "did you make your mother cry?"
"I can't help it," she sighed. "My baby boy's all grown up and getting married."
"You've still got Mark and Randy," Brad muttered, shutting the ring box and sticking it back in his pocket.
"Wait a minute," Tim said, looking at his son. "You're getting married?"
"Hopefully," Brad laughed.
His father raised one eye brow. "To who?"
"To Dana, Dad," Brad groaned, rolling his eyes.
"I know. I know," Tim laughed. "Bet you're glad I brought her fishing with us now, huh?"
"Oh hush, Tim," Jill said, leaning across the counter to talk with Brad. "So, how are you going to ask her?"
"I'm taking her down to the lake. I'm gonna ask her on the dock."
Jill clasped her hands together. "That is so sweet! Oh I'm just so excited for you two!"
"Don't get too excited, Mom," eighteen year old Randy said, entering the kitchen and grabbing a coke from the refrigerator. "She still has to say yes. Which if she's smart, she won't."
Brad grabbed his younger brother and put him in a head lock. They began to wrestle and Jill looked witheringly at her husband. "Alright! Hey," he shouted, grabbing a son in each hand and pulling him apart. "That's enough! Man, how old do you guys have to be before you stop beating on each other?"
"How old were you before you stopped beating on Marty, Tim?" Jill smirked as the boys left the kitchen.
"That's entirely different," he said before retreating to the garage once again.
Brad pulled his truck up to the lake and jumped out, running around to the other side to open Dana's door for her. She slipped her hand into his as they made their way down to the dock. "Can you believe it's been twelve years since we first went fishing together here?" she asked.
"No," he chuckled. "Where'd that cute little eight year old with pigtails and a pink fishing pole go?"
"I heard she's still hanging out with that nerdy little boy who used to sport a mullet," she teased.
"It was the early nineties!" Brad groaned with a smile. "Everyone had one!"
"Whatever Babe," she sighed.
They sat down on the dock, dangling their feet over the edge just like they did on that day twelve years ago. "You were the only one to catch a fish that day," he said, wrapping one arm around her shoulders.
"We caught a fish that day," she reminded him, kissing his cheek.
"Right," he laughed.
"I knew then that you were my knight in shining armor," she said softly, lacing her fingers through his where they rested on her shoulder.
"But you're no damsel in distress," Brad smiled. "You've never needed anyone to save you, Dana."
"Sometimes I do," she said truthfully. "And whenever I do, you're always right there."
"I always will be," he promised, kissing her lips when she looked up at him. He was going to wait until sunset. He was going to get down on one knee. He had a big romantic speech all planned out. But all that went out the window, and as he looked down into her dark eyes, the words just slipped out of his mouth, "Marry me, Dana."
A huge smile broke out over her face. "Okay," she whispered, pressing her lips to his again.
Brad stood dressed in a black tuxedo at the front of the church, watching his mother come down the aisle with Randy on one arm and Mark on the other, while Tim walked proudly behind them. Tears of happiness rolled down Jill Taylor's cheeks as she slid into the pew, her husband smiling proudly beside her. Mark and Randy went to the back of the church, escorting the bridesmaids down the aisle.
Brad tapped his foot impatiently, his hands clenching into fists as he waited to see the one person who he truly wanted to see come down that aisle. He felt a hand on his shoulder and he looked to see Randy and Mark standing beside him. Randy dropped his hand with a nod, silently telling his older brother to calm down. Brad took a few deep breaths and put his hands together behind his back. The flower girl and the ring bearer came down the aisle, and, cute as they were, Brad wanted nothing more than to pick them both up and tuck them under his arms like footballs and carry them the rest of the way so they could move on.
Suddenly, his heart began to race in his chest. The bridal march began to play. He looked up from where he had been looking at the flower girl and ring barer to see Dana at the back of the church. Brad gasped. As corny as he knew it was, she looked like an angel, all dressed in white and floating towards him. Anyone in attendance who was not blinded by love though, would've seen a very eager young bride, whose father literally had to hold her back so she wouldn't run down the aisle to her fiance. When she finally reached him, he took her hands tenderly in his. The world faded away in that moment, as he lost himself in Dana's dark brown eyes. Luckily, he heard the pastor ask him if he would take Dana as his wife. "I do," he said, his voice strong and sure.
The pastor turned to Dana, who jumped the gun and said her I do's a bit too early. She blushed and the guests chuckled. Brad simply smiled and squeezed her hands gently as they waited patiently for the pastor to finish. Dana then said, "I do," as confidently as Brad just had.
They were announced husband and wife and they sealed it with a kiss.
"Brad!"
Brad Taylor jumped to his feet and raced down the hallway at the sound of his wife's panic stricken voice, three years later. He skidded to a stop right in front of their bedroom, where Dana had been for the past four months on bed rest. She was standing up, gripping one of the posts of their bed, the other hand on her rounded belly. "What's wrong?" he asked, rushing to her side.
"It's time," she laughed breathlessly.
"It's time?" he repeated. "Like, right now?"
She nodded. Brad sprang into action, grabbing her suitcase out of the closet, saying, "Ok. Let's go! We'll call our parents in the car!"
Before they went anywhere though, Dana grabbed her husband's arm and looked up at him. "I love you, Brad Taylor."
Brad grinned. "I love you too, Dana Taylor."
"Brad," Jill gasped rushing to her son's side nearly nine hours later. "Do we have a baby?"
"It's a boy, isn't it?" Tim laughed. "The Taylor men always have sons, and..."
"Guys!" Mark cried over his parents. Apparently, he was the only one who could see the look on Brad's face. "What's wrong?" he asked as he watched his brother sink slowly into a chair next to Randy. He looked like he was either going to pass out or be sick.
"They took Dana for an emergency C-Section," he said, staring blankly at the white linoleum floor. He cleared his throat which had suddenly become as dry as a desert. "They said something about the baby having an irregular heart beat, and Dana losing too much blood... I don't know."
Randy put a comforting hand on his brother's shoulder, just like he had at his wedding three years ago. "They'll be fine, Man," Randy said. "I know I haven't always been a doctor's number one fan, but they really do know what they're doing."
Jill sat down on the other side of her son and said, "Randy's right. They'll both be fine, Sweetheart. We just have to wait."
About an hour later, a doctor emerged and asked for Brad. His heart racing, he followed him into the hallway. "How's Dana?" he asked, his breath coming much too quickly, and his palms beginning to sweat. "How's the baby doing?"
"You have a healthy son. You can see him if you would like," the older man said.
"And Dana?" Brad asked, fighting the same feeling of panic he'd had when he found her unconscious with a gun pointed to her head in some stranger's arms five years ago. "When can I see her?"
The doctor frowned, the lines on his face becoming more prominent as he looked at Brad. "I'm sorry. Mrs. Taylor has slipped into a coma. She's fading fast. We're doing everything we possibly can."
Brad leaned heavily against the wall. This couldn't be happening. It had to be some horrible kind of dream. Dana was fine. She would laugh at all of them for being so worried about her. She would... she... Oh God!
He felt dizzy as the doctor sighed, "I'm very sorry. We'll keep you updated on her condition."
Brad barely managed to nod as the doctor walked away. Randy came around the corner with five cups of coffee for his family, to see his brother looking as pale as a ghost. Randy swore he felt his own heart stop in that moment. "What happened?" he asked quietly.
Brad swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to find his voice and remember how to speak. But nothing was working anymore. Nothing made sense. Dana was all that tied him to any sort of sanity and without her, he felt himself spiraling downward into a black oblivion. He closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to get some direction to his thoughts, but he just ended up dizzier as chills ran through his body.
"Brad?" Randy said again, worry etched into his voice.
Pushing himself off the wall, Brad whispered hoarsely, "I can't. I can't." He stumbled past his brother and made his way down the hallway, not knowing where the heck he was going and not really caring where he ended up. Anywhere was better than here.
Coming to a closed door, Brad pushed it open without giving much thought as to why he was going in. The small room was dimly lit. When he looked around he noticed plush carpeting on the floor and long benches lining the room. No, not benches. Pews. He looked at the far end of the room and saw Jesus Christ on the cross. He had literally stumbled upon the hospital's chapel. He made his way to the front, falling to his knees just before the steps that led to the altar. Tears burned his eyes as he looked up at the only one he felt he could turn to for help.
"Take the very breath you gave me," he sobbed, hardly able to speak the words. "Take the heart from my chest. I'll gladly take her place if You'll let me, make this my last request. Take me out of this world. God please! Don't take the girl!"
Tim and Jill Taylor found their oldest son on his knees in the hospital chapel. When Randy had told them how upset Brad had been, they'd immediately gone looking for him. They went to him, one parent kneeling on either side of him. "Brad, honey," Jill whispered. His prayer had scared her, but honestly, she could understand it. So did Tim.
"I'm sorry," Brad gasped for air that his lungs refused to take in. "I'm sorry, Mom. It just hurts so bad."
Jill wrapped her arms around him and pulled her baby boy against her chest. "I know, Sweetie," she soothed. "I know."
Tim moved to wrap an arm around his wife shoulders, placing his other hand against Brad's back, which was convulsing with the tears he finally allowed himself to cry. "I can't lose her," he choked. "I can't."
"You won't," Jill promised him. "She's a fighter. She'll pull through."
"She needs you to be strong for her though," Tim said. "Just like when she needed you to help her reel in that fish. She can't do it alone."
Minutes later, Brad sat in a chair beside Dana's bed, listening to the beeping of her heart monitor and the sound of the oxygen tube that had been placed against her nose. He watched her chest move up and down with each breath she took. Careful not to disturb the IV, he gently took her hand in his. For a long time he just sat there in silence, watching his wife fight for her life. Finally, he said quietly, "Do you remember the day I proposed to you? You said I was your night in shining armor, and I told you that you never needed anyone to save you. You've always been pretty good at taking care of yourself. But then you said that sometimes, you do need to be saved. And you told me that I was always there for you when you needed me. Well, now you need me, so here I am.
"But I need you too, Dana," he sighed, kissing her fingers softly, "and so does our son. So you and I have to fight this together. I know that we can beat it, ok? So don't give up, and neither will I."
Brad handed his son, Jonathan Wilson Taylor, his old fishing pole. "How big of a fish are you gonna catch, Johnny?"
Eight year old Johnny stretched his arms out as wide as they'd go. "This big," he grinned.
"Alright," Brad laughed as he finished packing up his truck.
"Daddy!" four year old Jillian Rose Taylor squealed as she came running outside, blonde pigtails flying.
"Hey, there's my little princess," Brad smiled scooping his daughter up in his arms and kissing her cheek. "I have something for you, Rosie."
Her dark brown eyes lit up. He pulled a pink fishing pole out of the bed of his truck and handed it to her. She shrieked with delight. Johnny groaned. "Do we have to take her?"
"We can't leave her behind," Dana Taylor laughed as she emerged from the house, one year old Jackson Timothy Taylor on her hip and a picnic basket on her other arm.
"Fine," Johnny sighed as he climbed into the back of the truck with Rosie and the picnic basket.
"Sounds familiar," Brad laughed. He turned to his wife and smiled, wrapping an arm around her waist, and said, "He'll learn soon enough that girls aren't all that bad, even his sister."
Dana smiled. "I think a family just moved in down the street with a little girl his age."
"Maybe we should offer to take her fishing."
"Maybe," she nodded. She looked up at her husband, and said, "I love you, Brad Taylor."
"I love you too, Dana Taylor," he grinned, kissing her lips. Jackson began to babble and he patted his father's neck. "And I love you too, Jackson Taylor," he laughed, kissing the baby's cheek. "Now, let's go fishing!"