My question sears my consciousness as I sit behind my desk and attempt to concentrate on my paperwork but all I think about is this morning and my impetuousness. It was just a slip of comfort, of familiarity, and of caring, really. I think about our circle around our talk this morning and know that I am partially to blame for shutting down but I see it as a badge of courage. The ability to suck it up and forge ahead was a quality to be admired and somewhere along the way everyone needed to talk about everything. That will never be me but it does have its time and its place. Maybe that is where Vic and I are right now? I don't know. I do know that I need a plan.

The clock rolls around to 7 o'clock and I head out. Ruby left at four and I relieved Ferg this morning so he could come back for the late night shift.

"Hi, Sheriff."

"Hi Ferg. See you at o'dark thirty to relieve you."

"Ok, have a good night, Sheriff."

I stop by the store and do a quick shop for pasta, sauce, asparagus, red lettuce, tomatoes, garlic, bread, Italian dressing and a six-pack of Rainier. I head to Vic's house unannounced and pull up a half a block from her house. I stop, wishing I had a cell phone, so I could call her an gauge her mood. Hell, maybe she isn't home. Maybe she went out. Maybe she is on a date? A sense of dread plummets my ego at the thought of her on a date with another man. Ok, I give myself a pep talk, go up there.

Finally, I park in front of her house, because pulling in the driveway, is far to intimate. I walk around and grab the groceries and head for the front door. My stomach is playing Little Drummer Boy. Vic's porch light silhouettes my frame and I look down at my feet. I hear the chain unlatching, the door unlocking, and Vic appears in black sweats and a red Phillies jersey.

"Walt, what the hell?"

"I thought I would stop by and make us dinner. I know you weren't feeling so well this morning."

Vic smiles and suddenly the drummer boy goes on a 5 minute break. This is surprising but come on in. I step into her house and it dawns on me that I have never been inside before. It's decorated simply but beautifully and definitely denotes an feminine touch that is not consistent with the Vic we see in action at work. She turns and lets the number 6 on her jersey lead me to the kitchen.

"I didn't know you could cook, Walt." She says with a smile in her voice. She turns and is smiling, or should I say laughing, at me.

"Well, ah..you know nothing fancy…ah I do ok. Are you hungry? I have a little pasta and a little salad if you feel like eating."

"Yeah, sure. Truthfully, I was going to order a pizza because the late game is on MLB network, the Phils are in San Diego for inter-league so it's a late game. Your timing is perfect I must say."

"I'm glad you don't mind. You know, me coming over here unexpected."

"Oh, no" she laughs, "I expected you just not bearing food."

I set the groceries on the counter and look around trying to gain my bearings.

"Walt, here, give me your coat and hat. You can wash up in the kitchen sink if you want or you can use the bathroom in the hall there. The pots and pans are where you would expect them and the silverware is in this drawer. I think you can figure out the rest. It's the top of the second and I'm gonna watch the game. Oh, there's beer in the fridge in case you forgot to get some."

"Thanks." I do as she says. "What do you mean you expected me?"

I hear Vic yelling at the flat screen television. "Come on Ryan. Let's do it, baby. Come on, big man. Here we go." The sudden hush from the crowd and Vic's high pitched yell tell me that Howard got on base.

"Ah, yeah after this morning." Vic yells back into the kitchen.

I get things going in the kitchen and open her fridge to put the beer away and I find two six-packs of Rainer. I smile because I know she bought them for me. She knew alright.

"Ah yeah, about that. I can't really explain it..ahh." I'm glad I'm not facing her but in an entirely different room preparing food that will help her heal.

"Let's go Marlon. Come on number 3. Yeah baby."

"Dinner will be ready in 10 minutes."

"ok" she yells back over the t.v. The callous humor of role reversal is apparent. No one would ever believe this and I don't plan on telling anyone either, ever.

I bring an ice cold beer into the living room and pop the top handing it to her.

"No glass?"

"Are you kidding?"

She drains the can and hands me the empty. We both laugh out loud as she belches.

"Rating please!"

I look at her perplexed.

"Rating please!"

"That was about a five"

"A five? Oh, Walt, that was at least a seven and you know it."

We are both laughing out loud and I realize I have laughed in earnest three times in one day which is the most I have laughed in the past four years.

"Smells good in there."

I smile and holler, "Soup's on," as I bring our plates to the small kitchen table and follow quickly with two more cold beers this time in glasses.

"This is so nice. Who knew you could cook?" She looks up at me with her brown eyes glistening and that wide toothed sincere smile. "Thank you for doing this for me."

A little flushed. "You're welcome" She has captured my attention and my heart.