As soon as I'd agreed to let Oscar call Steve, I wished I hadn't! How would I face him? What would I say? "I think that maybe I love you...but I'm not sure..." No.
"You won't believe this, but guess what happened?" Not as bad, but still...no.
Nothing that I was coming up with seemed right, and Oscar sensed my turmoil. He stayed with me for a couple more hours, just letting me get it all out – the tension, the anxiety and the awful dread that maybe Steve wouldn't understand...and that he'd reject me outright.
"I can guarantee you that won't happen," Oscar assured me, kissing my cheek as he said goodnight. "And when he gets here, you'll know exactly what to do. I promise."
With that, I was alone. I thought a lot about Chris that night. Why hadn't we ever married? We'd been together for a couple of years – and I loved him. What, exactly, was holding me back? Could it possibly have been Steve? While Chris and I had agreed (often) that marriage was in our future, there was never a concrete date set, any plans made or even an actual engagement. Steve and I had most of our lifetime together backing us up and were already planning menus and seating charts. The wedding was so close...and then IT happened.
I couldn't even imagine the pain Steve must have gone through! He bore it so gallantly, never pressuring me and happy just to be the friend I needed him to be. I never saw what I was really putting him through, but as I lay in bed that night, I realized just how terrible it must have been for him. The very last thing I wanted to do was hurt him any further.
I was still mulling this over when Rudy came in to check on me. "It's late, Honey," he told me. "I know you've got a lot to think about, but you also need to rest."
"I don't want a sedative," I said, heading him off at the pass.
"I know you don't. But you're recovering from a serious injury, not to mention additional trauma and anxiety – and I am your doctor, so..."
Sighing, I held out my left arm. There was no arguing with Rudy.
* * * * *
When Rudy did his first-thing-in-the-morning check on me (for years, I wondered if the man ever slept), he was smiling. "You're healing nicely," he told me, pushing the tray table over to the bed so I could start on the breakfast that was already waiting for me.
"How do you feel?" he asked as I dug not-so-enthusiastically into my powdered eggs. "About today, I mean."
"I'm scared," I admitted.
"Don't be. Look at it as seeing an old, dear friend again. Nothing more. That way, anything else is a wonderful surprise."
"What time do you think he'll be here?" I asked.
"He got here about an hour ago."
I nearly dropped my toast! Rudy gave me his most empathetic, reassuring grin. "Relax. He's perfectly happy, having coffee in my office. He'll wait until you're ready."
Could I ever be ready enough? I would just have to wing it. "Does he know?" I asked. "What'd you tell him?"
"Just that you wanted to see him. Nothing more. The rest is totally up to you."
Well, great, I thought to myself. Especially since I have absolutely no idea what to say...
After breakfast, I changed into my favorite nightgown and robe (not exactly haute couture, but it was a hospital), brushed my hair, took several deep, steadying breaths and let Rudy know I was ready. It was time.
Steve walked in cautiously, unsure of what to expect, I guessed. I had a fleeting thought that right now we were more like strangers than when I'd had amnesia and not known him at all. But the awkwardness was gone by the time he reached my bed. He told me how sorry he was to hear about Chris, we hugged and then he stepped back and eyed me curiously.
"What?" I had to ask. "Do I have horns or something?"
He told me he had brought two presents and had intended to give me one or the other, depending on the situation. (He seemed even less sure of what was going on than I was.) Then he said he guessed he'd bring them both in and let me choose. He ducked out the door and returned with a beautiful flowering plant that he set on the bedside table, but before I could thank him, he bounded back out into the hall. All of a sudden, this big, fuzzy face peered around the door frame. It was a huge stuffed rabbit, very much like one I'd had when I was little, and its head was bouncing, making the oversized ears lob up and down as one big paw waved hello.
All of my tension and anxiety drained right out of me – because I simply HAD to laugh. The rabbit was wearing a pair of hot pink, Jaime-sized bunny slippers!
"You always did know how to make me smile," I told him. I think that, in that very instant, he knew.
It was an odd (but not unwelcome) sensation. Past, present and possibly even future all melded together for both of us, in one single instant. Steve knew without my having told him, exactly why I'd wanted to see him. What's more, I knew that he knew. Very quietly, he asked me how it had happened. I told him about the explosion, about being blown free of the rubble and debris...and about how I'd lost Chris. Steve started out holding my hand but by the end of my story he was hugging me close in a quiet gesture of tenderness and comfort.
"I'm so sorry you had to go through that," he told me.
I leaned into him, absorbing both the newness and the familiarity of his embrace. It felt too good to break away. When he did lean back into the chair again, Steve raised one eyebrow and gave me a slight smile.
"So...which one's it gonna be?" he asked.
"Huh?"
"The bunny...or the plant?"
I had to laugh. "Well, the flowers are beautiful – my favorite color, no less – but how can I resist such bright, fuzzy slippers?"
Steve grinned and slipped them on my feet. "For that choice, you get both – the plant too – no extra charge."
I smiled my thanks and then found that somehow, I couldn't stop looking at him. Slowly, the smile vanished and I was still staring into those bright aqua-colored eyes.
"What it is?" he asked.
"I guess I'm just not sure how to handle this," I admitted. "Any of it. Losing Chris and then gaining...so much – all at the same time."
"It has to be confusing," he acknowledged.
"Yeah. And, well..." (Alright, out with it, Jaime!) "I'm not sure if I can give you what you're looking for. If you're looking for anything at all, where I'm concerned, that is."
"There aren't too many people who've come all the way back from the dead," he told me. "And with everything else you've had to contend with, you're blazing new trails here, Sweetheart. This is strictly your call."
"Well, not exactly..."
Steve took my hand again...and kissed it. "Jaime, I am happy just to be your friend, to still be able to have you in my life. Anything more than that is gravy. Okay – I admit I love gravy, but I don't want you to think you have to do anything or feel a certain way on account of me. Let's just move one step at a time. Deal?"
I always was a sucker for a good deal.
* * * * *
When Rudy released me from the hospital a few days later, it was Steve who came to take me home. Instead of driving directly back to the ranch, though, he pulled the car into the little side lot next to the park on Lake Casitas. "I thought you might like to reconnect with nature a little bit," he offered.
Water has always been a source of inspiration, comfort and quietude for me – and of course, he knew that. We sat for awhile, just looking at the water like we used to do. I'll admit I also spent a lot of time looking at him, at his rugged, broad shoulders and the kindness in his eyes. "This is perfect," I whispered (not looking at the water at all just then).
"Definitely perfect," he agreed. He wasn't looking out at the waves, either.
I thanked him again, for everything – for being so understanding and so good to me, for giving up everything just to keep from causing me any more pain...and for bringing me back to this beautiful place. It was especially welcome after such a long stint in the hospital (again).
"I don't think I'd mind a bit if I never saw the inside of another hospital," I told him.
Steve nodded. "Yeah, I'd say you've had more than your share."
"I adore Rudy – you know that – but still..."
Steve smiled. "You've never been one to just lay around in bed." As usual, he understood.
When the sun started to duck low on the horizon, we got ready to go. "I don't think you should have to cook dinner for yourself tonight," he stated with a grin. "I'd offer to cook something for you, but -"
"But California has fire codes."
"Yeah. So how about the Capri?"
We got a few curious looks from our neighbors as we sat sharing a pizza in our old haunt, but it didn't matter to us in the least. We made small talk with everyone who approached our table – and told the 'lost in a crevice' story to anyone brave enough to ask. Privately, I couldn't wait for the day when the sight of me didn't make people think they were seeing a damn ghost!
* * * * *
Steve was good to his word. He didn't pressure me in any way and certainly didn't come on too strong. In fact, I think he was using the Leave-Em-Wanting-More strategy. He called every day (usually twice a day) to see how I was feeling, but we only saw each other a couple of times a week at first. I still thought about Chris a lot (and it hurt terribly) but the tears were tempered by thoughts of just how much I'd gained. Finally, I was a whole person again! A person with a real past, instead of a bunch of nameless faces and forgotten dreams.
When Rudy called me back to his complex for an early 10,000-mile check up because, well, because he's Rudy...Steve went with me. It was so much easier enduring the endless tests and timed laps with him by my side. There may have even been a little bit of healthy competition going on there, but I'm not about to tell you who won. Let's just say I was getting stronger and healthier every day. And every day (so slowly that it was almost imperceptible and yet always comfortable), I was starting to want to grow closer to Steve...
* * * * *
Steve didn't want to pressure me and I didn't want to rush him...so we were at a sort of impasse. We both longed to be closer but neither of us seemed able to take that next step. Fortunately, the OSI solved that problem – in spades. Oscar sent us deep into the Peruvian jungle to take down a group of drug smugglers who'd decided weapons would be equally as profitable. They'd stockpiled a warehouse full of equipment, most of it stolen and all of it deadly. There were more than a dozen of them (armed to the teeth, of course) and only two of us. To accomplish our mission and get out of there in the same shape in which we'd gone in, we had to have complete faith and utter trust in each other.
There were only two very small (miniscule, really) problems. We'd be parachuting in...and the jungle was full of snakes. As we approached the drop zone and began getting ready, I knew Steve was thinking about the last assignment that had us jumping from a plane together. Not a rousing success by anyone's standards – except maybe the man we'd been supposed to apprehend. On the other hand, I was thinking of a different experience with parachutes...
"Are you okay?" Steve asked. I nodded, careful not to meet his eyes. "'Cause you seem sort of shaky. And pale, too."
"I can do this," I told him.
"I know that." He grabbed my chin and forced me to look at him directly. "You'll be alright," he said in a firm voice.
I nodded again, trying not to think about the huge clumps of trees on every side of the small target area we were about to be aiming for. I closed my eyes for a second and could almost feel the moment when my body had plummeted straight into a grove of trees and....my eyes snapped open with the jolt. "I'm gonna do this," I said again, hiking myself and my gear over to the hatch. I knew if I didn't do it then – if I backed out – I would likely never overcome the fear. Besides, there was no way I was letting Steve go into that jungle alone!
I'd think about the snakes after we landed.
The jump was a smooth one, although I think I held my breath until my feet were back on terra firma. We folded and stashed our equipment and (right on schedule) as we were coming out of the bushes, the first snake swung down from a tree, hanging right in front of my face. I ducked under him, stifled my scream and kept going – albeit just a bit faster now.
"I'm impressed," Steve told me.
"Piece-a-cake," I answered. (Now if only my heart would start beating again....!) Lucky for me that I couldn't feel the snakes as they slithered past our legs. I told myself I could have nightmares later but for now, I just had to keep going.
The jungle overgrowth (and the heavy roots and stalks that covered the ground) were no match for two bionic arms and four bionic legs. Neither, for that matter, were the dozen men in that compound. We worked out a plan that called for precise coordination. I went in first, as a nature-loving explorer lost in the dark, deep jungle. They weren't really buying it, but a slight flash of leg distracted them long enough for me to wing them – and for Steve to take them down. I swore at the beginning of my career to never, EVER, use sex as a weapon – and I didn't. The thought of sex, with a slight accompanying glimpse of such a well-crafted leg (kudos, Rudy)....well, I wasn't beyond that! We worked our way through their little compound with me lining 'em up and Steve knocking 'em down until every one of them was firmly in custody. Not a single shot was fired and they were soon on their way into the belly of the Justice system while Steve and I were treated to a first-class ride back to the States in one of the OSI's private jets.
There wasn't a chance to clean up at all, and we were both looking pretty ragged and jungle-worn, but chilled champagne had never tasted sweeter. I wondered idly to myself what our accommodations would've been had we failed in our assignment. Maybe...warm champagne and no snacks?
Anyhow, we could finally settle back, breathe a bit – and congratulate each other on a job well done. Steve raised his glass and made a toast, calling me the bravest person he'd ever known. (Surprisingly, he didn't temper that with the word 'woman'.) I toasted back that even the bravest were only as good as their partner. And then (finally), after weeks of agonizing about the 'right moment' and still sweaty and grubby as hell...we kissed. The good kind. Partly because our lips were likely the cleanest spots on our entire bodies – but mostly because it was time.
* * * * *
After a long, hot bath for me and (I'm guessing) a shower for Steve and then a good night's sleep for both of us, we met bright and early for breakfast. He told me that I cleaned up rather nicely and (thinking of a much earlier time and hoping he remembered it, too) I told him he didn't smell as bad as usual.
* * * * *