A/N: Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read this story. Hugs to Dog in the Manger, who always makes what I write better.
As I struggled to regain some awareness of my surroundings, I heard the sounds: heartbreaking little sobs, punctuated by soft hiccups.
I couldn't seem to open my eyes but I had the impression of being surrounded by roses. Pink and red roses.
Then I heard the somber voice, barely audible over the pounding in my head.
So beautiful, even death, that the dwarves could not find it in their hearts to bury her… they fashioned a coffin of glass and gold and kept eternal vigil by her side…
Crap.
I wasn't just dead. I was Disney dead. If I couldn't be Wonder Woman, I at least deserved to be a kickass princess like Mulan or that little redhead in Brave. But nooo… I had eaten a bite of a stupid apple… Seriously? Have you met me? I could see me taking a TastyKake from a stranger but an apple? Never! And now I had to be rescued. Again. My alternative reality bore a scary resemblance to my real life.
As my eyes finally fluttered open, I was expecting to catch a glimpse of Doc or Grumpy or Bashful, weeping at my side. Instead, a familiar face wearing a very relieved expression swam into view. "So… Which dwarf are you?" I asked groggily.
"I'm Sexy," Lester replied, grinning lecherously while he combed his fingers through his spiky blond hair. "Although, if you hadn't come around soon, I was going to make like Prince Charming and try to wake you with a kiss."
The threat of a Santos kiss sent an unexpected, but not unwelcome zing! straight to my doodah. Turns out, I wasn't really dead after all.
Then, the memories of the explosion at the TPD came flooding back and I struggled to get myself in a seated position on my parents' chintz-covered couch.
"Omigod, where's my Grandma? Is she OK? What about Hector?"
"Your Grandma's fine. She was safe inside the Explorer, when the bomb went off. She's upstairs updating her Facebook page," Lester smirked. "She told me the girls at the Clip n' Curl were going to be so jealous."
The pounding in my head forced me to slump back a little against the couch cushions, but not before I caught sight of Hector and he gave me a friendly finger wave.
He was seated in my dad's recliner, bouncing my youngest niece, Lisa, on his lap. Angie was perched on the arm of the chair and Mary Alice was on the floor, her back against Hector's knees.
"Uncle Hector is watching Snow White with us," Mary Alice said. "It's one of his favorite movies too."
Uncle Hector? My sister Valerie must have noticed my confusion.
"Hey, I try to be a good mom," Valerie said, hanging over the back of the couch. "I teach my kids to show respect for their elders. 'Uncle Hector' is way easier to say than 'Mister Mendoza'."
I tried to ignore my sister, focusing all of my attention on Lester. "I have such a terrible headache, but I'm not sure why."
"You hit your head when you fainted, just after the explosion. Bobby suspects it was a combination of stress and shock and that you hadn't eaten all day."
"I'm glad he let you bring me to my parents' house, but I'm surprised. The last time I fainted, he insisted on IV fluids and a CT scan of my head."
Lester kneeled down beside the couch, cupping my chin in his hand. "That's not off the table if you don't feel better after you eat. But the ER at St. Francis is going to be a little overwhelmed for the next few hours." He hesitated briefly. "That blast blew out all the windows on the back side of Trenton PD and part of an interior wall collapsed from the shock waves. There were… casualties. Bobby wanted to be here taking care of you, but they really needed his help on scene."
A wave of nausea washed over me and suddenly I was feeling lightheaded again. "Joe?"
"He's was hit in the arm by a piece of metal from the explosion. He'll need some stitches, but he'll be OK."
"I'm worried that this is all my fault," I sobbed.
"No, Beautiful. It's not," Lester insisted, propping 3 couch cushions under my heels so my feet were higher than my head. "Joe is alive because he came over to talk to you instead of going straight to his car."
Holding up a juice glass filled with ginger ale, he stuck in a bendy straw and brought it close to my lips. "I need you to drink this so you don't faint again."
"Maybe you're pregnant," Valerie offered conversationally. "Fainting can be an early sign of pregnancy."
The sound from the direction of the kitchen was unmistakable. Glass shattering against linoleum.
"I'm NOT pregnant," I screeched.
"Hey, don't say it that way," Valerie protested. "It happens to nice girls too. I know this for a fact. Sometimes these things just happen, even when you're careful."
She smiled fondly at her daughter Lisa, who was now standing on Hector's lap, her tiny fingers tracing his teardrop tattoo.
"Not possible," I insisted in a low voice, hoping my sister could also hear what I didn't say. Just drop it.
Valerie turned so her back was to her older daughters and she dropped her voice.
"No method of birth control is 100 percent," she said. "Ask me. This I know from experience."
"You're wrong." My voice was a harsh whisper. "There's one method that is completely effective.
Valerie's face scrunched up, like she was trying to process what I had said. Then recognition dawned and a smile lit up her face.
"No way," she exclaimed, shaking her head in disbelief. "Really? How long has it been?"
"Three months, thirteen days, " I answered truthfully. But hey, who's counting?
Hector and Lester shot me pitying looks. Les looked like he was going to say something but Valerie cut him off.
"You have two of the hottest men in Trenton as boyfriends, but I'm getting it more often than you are?" Valerie looked happier than I'd seen her in months. Sibling rivalry was alive and well in the Plum household.
"Joe isn't my boyfriend anymore. We broke up. As for Ranger..." I trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished, while I tried to figure out what to say about him. He hadn't ever been my boyfriend, exactly. Best friend. Protector. Even lover on occasion. But I couldn't really see classifying him as a boyfriend. Before I could work out the puzzle in my head, a growl from the direction of the front door interrupted my internal dialogue.
"Who's been sitting in my chair?" my father asked in a gruff voice.
"Grandpa Bear!" Angie squealed, flying off the arm of the chair and into his arms."
"Hey there, Goldilocks," he said, planting a kiss on the top of her blond curls. "How are my girls today?"
Hector struggled to his feet, sidestepping Mary Alice, while cradling a now sleeping Lisa in his arms.
"No te preocupes," my father said to Hector. "Don't worry. We play this game every afternoon. The girls sit in that chair and wait for me." He glanced at the baby in Hector's arms. "I see you have the magic touch. Usually I'm the only one who can get her to settle down for her afternoon nap. I'm home late today because I had to drive Mrs. Weyland home from her doctor's office and we had to make an unexpected stop at the drug store." He smiled fondly at the baby who had one thumb in her mouth and her face squashed against Hector's chest. "Thanks for filling in for me."
"De nada," said Hector, looking relieved.
I was staring at my father, open-mouthed, during the exchange. Since he had retired from the post office several years ago, he had driven a cab for a few hours each day. For reasons that were obvious to all of us, he needed the break from my mother and my grandmother. Now my father was known to be a man of few words and I normally I would have spent some time puzzling over the longish explanation he had just given Hector. I just couldn't get past the first three words he had spoken. No te preocupes. I was so busy thinking about my father speaking Spanish that I missed that Lector had immediately snapped to attention when my father had entered the room.
"Major Plum."
"At ease, solider. That's been a long time."
"Maybe," Lester admitted. "But no one's forgotten."
It was apparent that Lester knew things about my father that I didn't, but before I could ask for an explanation, my mother emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron.
"Let's eat," she said. "The meatloaf's getting cold."