A/N: We're getting so close to the end now, folks. I'm so excited! Feels like I've been writing this fic for a long time and it'll be wonderful to (hopefully) bring it to a fitting conclusion and have you all feel it's been worth the journey with me. :D

On a side but related note, I'm actually started a writing course not too long ago and I'm really enjoying it and it's helping me with this story as well. It's online and the man who runs it offers incredibly reasonable prices to mentor you and offers a wonderful writing course that is as cheap as chips but very good. Jim gives wonderful and insightful feedback and I can't recommend the service enough. If anyone is looking to improve their writing skills or write that novel that has been lurking in the back of your head with professional and affordable mentorship, then you should definitely check out his website www . oz-edit-proofreading . com (remove the spaces). I'm working on my first book with him, so who knows, maybe one day if you see a book or e-book out there by a Louise Bleu, then you'll know who I am. ;)

Anyways, won't worry about the next story until I get this one done and dusted. Read on and see what you make of it all, won't you? :D

Chapter TWENTY FIVE

"Waiting hurts. Forgetting hurts.

But not knowing which decision to take can sometimes be the most painful..."
~José N. Harris~

MI VIDA

Vogel watched Debra struggle to get comfortable in the sofa. "Would you prefer to sit in a chair, Debra?"

"I'd prefer not to be a beached whale," Debra snapped and then grimaced. "Sorry, not sleeping well these days. I'm cranky." She wrinkled her nose. "Crankier than usual," she conceded.

"You're eight months pregnant," said an unfazed Vogel. "It's only going to get more uncomfortable from here on out."

Debra pulled a face. "Great," she said dourly.

Vogel swept over her. "You look very well though."

"Doctor says I'm as healthy as a horse." Debra rolled her eyes. "And I'm eating like one too. My ass has gotten enormous."

"Well, it doesn't look that way to me."

"I can't sleep properly," lamented Debra, "I pee all the time, I've got heartburn—"

"Yes, that sounds like you're pregnant alright," said Vogel indulgently.

"It's really uncomfortable and people want to keep touching my stomach like I'm some kind of fucking good luck Buddha," said Debra in annoyance. "What is it about being pregnant that perfect strangers feel like they've got the right to just walk up and touch you?" Her eyes narrowed menacingly. "There should be a fucking law against it."

"People are drawn to pregnant women, especially other woman. They feel like they share a bond with you because most of them share the same capacity to bring new life into the world."

"Yeah, well, they can fucking just keep their hands to themselves," said Debra moodily. "I don't like anyone touching my stomach except for—." She'd been about to say Dexter but caught herself just in time. Debra liked the way Dexter would quietly put his hand on her stomach at random moments when it was just the two of them. His touch felt calming and Debra felt safe and secure. She tried not to look forward to those moments but failed miserably.

"Except for?"

"Me," said Debra unevenly, not willing to share such intimate information. "Except for me. Harrison likes to touch my belly but I try to not let him." She grimaced. "I don't want him to bond with this baby. It's not fair to him."

"And you, are you bonding with her?" Vogel's expression was one of kind interest.

Debra unconsciously put a hand to her protruding stomach and rubbed it protectively. "I didn't want to."

"That isn't what I asked."

"She gets the hiccups, all the time," blurted out Debra. She allowed herself a small smile. "I like feeling her do that, hiccupping away inside of me. It makes me feel happy." Debra looked away abruptly. "I don't know why. It's fucking stupid."

"It's not stupid, it's normal."

Debra swallowed hard and looked back at Vogel. "I just need to know I'm doing right by her, keeping her safe and healthy."

"You just said the doctor's said you were doing both for your daughter," said Vogel encouragingly. "You should be proud of yourself, Debra."

Debra blinked. "My daughter," she mumbled, going a little pale.

Vogel frowned. "What is it?"

Debra shook her head. "I-I-ah-I just hadn't heard anyone say that before – my daughter." She bit her bottom lip. "It-it makes me feel weird."

Vogel nodded understandingly. "You've only got a month before you have to make a firm decision about the adoption. This must feel like everything is coming to a head for you."

"I've already made my decision," said Debra, wishing her voice was a little steadier than it sounded. She reached for the stack of files by her side. "And that's why I'm here. Amy, from the adoption agency gave me these profiles of couples to go through and pick the ones I like. I've narrowed it down to two couples but I wanted you to look over them and see what you think." She handed over the files to Vogel. "You know, give your professional opinion on whether you think that they might be sick fucks underneath all the cookies and cashmere shit."

Vogel accepted the files and looked them over. "It's very hard to get a feeling for a person by just reading about them."

"Yeah, well, that's why I'm going to meet them too, obviously."

"And Dexter?"

"And Dexter what?"

"Is Dexter going along to meet these couples with you?"

Debra rubbed her arm. "I-ah-I was going to ask if he wanted to." She had difficulty looking Vogel in the eye. "You know, for moral support and shit like that."

"I think it's a very good idea," said Vogel mildly. "I'm sure he'd want to be there."

"Are you?" asked Debra with a frown. "I thought he might say no. He still thinks adoption isn't the right way to go, that I won't be able to handle it."

"I think it's very important to Dexter that you feel you can rely on him," observed Vogel. "He'll want to be there."

Debra moved restlessly in her seat. "Yeah, well, I guess we'll see." She nodded at the files. "So, you'll look at them?"

"I'll give you my impression of your picks but it is no guarantee of anything, Debra," said Vogel patiently.

Debra grimaced. "I know, but this is a big decision and I want to get it right."

"I know," said Vogel quietly, starting to read through the files.

Debra tried not to fidget as she waited for Vogel to finish reading. She was really hoping that once she'd decided on a couple that her anxieties would lessen. She had to get this right, she just had to.

oooOOOOooo

"Here you go, Aunt Deb."

Dexter turned his head to see his son carefully making his way towards him and Debra, carrying a large sandwich on a plate out in front of him.

Debra moved to take it off him. "What's this now?"

Harrison beamed up at her proudly. "I made you a sandwich."

"Well, that's real sweet of you, Harrison." Debra smiled and ruffled his hair. "I feel very spoiled."

Dexter eyed the sandwich with less enthusiasm. "Harrison, what is in this sandwich?"

"All the stuff I know Aunt Deb likes," said Harrison cheerfully. "Peanut butter, jelly, cheese, pickles, maple syrup and potato chips."

Dexter pulled a repulsed face. "I don't know, pal, that doesn't sound—."

"It's delicious," announced Debra around a mouthful of the sandwich.

Harrison's face lit up. "I knew you'd like it." He looked up at his father. "Can I go play on the computer for a bit now?"

Dexter nodded. "Only for fifteen minutes though. Jamie is taking you for a haircut."

Harrison peered up through his fringe at his father. "But I don't need a haircut, Daddy."

"Well, I think you do," said Dexter firmly. "I'm tired of thinking my son is going to grow up to be an old English sheepdog."

Harrison giggled at the notion. "I'm not a dog, Daddy."

"Just to make sure you're still going to have that haircut."

Harrison sighed melodramatically. "Okay."

"See you, kiddo, thanks for the sandwich," said Debra around another mouthful of the snack.

After Harrison had scurried off to his room, Dexter shook his head at her. "You don't have to eat the rest of that sandwich to be polite now, he's gone."

"I like it," said Debra, almost half-way through it now.

"Are you serious?"

"It's salty and sweet and crunchy – I love it." She shoved the other half at Dexter's face. "Try it and see."

Dexter pushed the sandwich away from his face. He wrinkled his nose. "Thank you, but no. I think I'd rather eat my own shoes."

Debra shrugged and went back to the breaded treat. "Your loss."

"Mm," said Dexter sceptically.

Debra swallowed and smacked her lips together. "I need water."

"I would have thought you'd need more than water to get that thing down but water we can manage." He walked over to the kitchen, Debra following him and poured her a glass of water. Dexter leant back against the counter and watched Debra finish off the last of the sandwich and have a large drink of water. "That was disgusting," he announced indulgently.

"No, you just didn't know what you were missing out on," said an unrepentant Debra.

"Here's hoping your eating habits go back to normal once the baby is born." Dexter's gaze dropped to Debra's bulging stomach. He reached out with both hands and cupped her belly. "I'm going to miss your bump."

"It's not a bump, it's a mountain," complained Debra, joining him in rubbing her belly.

"You look beautiful," Dexter assured her.

Debra bit her bottom lip and looked down at the kitchen counter.

"What's wrong?"

Debra looked back at him and took a deep breath. "I-ah-I've got something to ask you."

"Okay." Dexter could see Debra was nervous so he steeled himself for whatever this was going to be.

"I'm meeting with the couple I think I'm going to choose for this adoption thing next week," she said unevenly. "I thought, I mean, did you want to come along or what?" Debra moved restlessly under his hands. "I know you're not big on the adoption idea still but I thought you might want to, you know, come, or not, I don't know. I don't know what you want to do, but that's why I'm asking." Debra's nervous ramblings trailed off.

Dexter could feel the way her body had gone rigid under his hands. He continued to stare at his hands on her stomach.

I want to make this alright for Deb, but I'm not sure how I'm going to cope sitting across from a couple who are going to take my child away from me. For months I've watched our daughter grow inside of Deb and I want this child in our lives, no matter the cost but is that just me being selfish again? What would a normal man want?

"Dex?"

Her anxious prompting had Dexter lifting his head to look Debra squarely in the eye. "I want—."

"Yes?" she prompted him hoarsely. "What do you want, Dex?"

I want you and this baby and for the whole world to go away and just leave us the hell alone.

"I want to meet them," he somehow managed. "I want to be there for you."

Dexter watched relief flood Debra's face and knew he must be doing the right thing, even though it made him feel like crap. Why did those two things usually go hand in hand?

Debra looked to be on the verge of tears. "I want you there," she said emotionally. "I know you think I'm wrong about going ahead with this adoption, but if you're not there for me, I'm not sure how I'll get through any of this. This is so much harder than I thought it was going to be, Dex. I feel Bump moving around inside of me and—."

"Bump?"

Debra looked guilty. "I-I kinda gave her a name, but not really. We're always together and sometimes I talk to her and I felt stupid not using a name even though I didn't want to give her one and—."

"Hey." Dexter stepped in and stopped her breathless justification, cupping Debra's face. "You don't have to explain, Deb. I get it. She's a part of you. Bump is a part of us."

Debra blinked back tears. "Don't be sweet, goddamn it. You know I can't handle it when you're sweet. Just tell me you'll be with me so I can get this fucking first meeting over and done with."

"I'll be with you," he assured her huskily. "I'll always be with you, Deb, for the rest of our lives." Dexter felt Debra relax against him at that promise. He leaned in and kissed her softly, conscious of her stomach pressing against his. "You taste disgusting," he whispered against her lips, the flavours of her sandwich still lingering.

Debra gave a little smile. "Then stop kissing me, moron."

"I can't," said Dexter simply before renewing their kiss and deepening it. He pressed her back against the bench, wanting to feel all of Debra's body against his even as he lost himself in their kiss. Dexter could still taste the peanut butter, pickles and honey but under all that strangeness there was the unmistakeable taste of Debra - always her, always his addiction.

A door slammed in the house and the two abruptly pulled apart a second before Jamie appeared in the kitchen.

"I'm going to take Harrison for his haircut now."

Dexter stared at her, trying to collect his wits. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Debra had quickly turned around and was busying herself with getting another glass of water. Lucky her that she could hide her flushed face and uneven breathing. Dexter wasn't so fortunate. "I-ah-good, that's good."

Jamie looked at him curiously. "You okay? You look all flushed."

"The kitchen is hot," said Dexter lamely.

"Oh, okay," said Jamie uncertainly. A few minutes later the young woman and Harrison were on their way, leaving Dexter and Debra alone again.

"That was so fucking stupid of us," said Debra in frustration. "What were we thinking?"

"I know what I was thinking," said Dexter wryly, still trying to get his body back under control.

Debra moved past him and grabbed up her keys. "What if Jamie had caught us? What would we have said?"

"I don't know," said Dexter helplessly.

"We have to be more careful, Dexter," said Debra in agitation. She shook her head. "I've got to go."

"Do you?" asked Dexter quickly. "I mean, we're alone now. Harrison and Jamie won't be back for at least an hour."

Debra blinked. "And do what?"

Dexter shrugged. "I don't know." He walked up to her and took the keys out of her hands. "Whatever we want."

"We should probably stop doing this," said Debra, staring at him wide-eyed.

Dexter slipped his hands around her waist and cupped her backside. "Yeah, we probably should." He then kissed her, holding nothing back. Debra immediately wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back just as passionately.

"So, this is me leaving then," she mumbled against his lips.

"It's probably for the best," agreed Dexter, starting to walk backwards towards the bedroom, not breaking their embrace and taking Debra with him.

Debra smiled. "I'm glad we've got that sorted then."

Dexter kicked at the bedroom door, closing the door behind them. "Me too," he said throatily, directing her towards the bed. They both tumbled down onto it and for the next hour the only people who existed in the world was just the two of them.

oooOOOOooo

Carol McVeigh wiped her hands on the back of her pants and smiled up at the man beside her. "That's a good day's work right there," she said happily. "I don't know what I would have done without you these last months, Paul. You've been a godsend."

Paul smiled back down at her before looking at the neatly stacked rows of hay they'd just stowed away, ready for the coming Louisiana winter. "You were the godsend, Carol. If you hadn't found me when you did, I'd be dead now."

She patted his arm in a motherly fashion. "And you've repaid that debt a hundred times over with all the hard work you've put into the farm. Ever since I lost my Lewis, it's been getting harder every year to keep this old farm running. I prayed to God that He'd show me what I was meant to do with it and then the very next day you turned up in my field, near death."

"And you took me in," said Paul gratefully. "Even though you didn't know who I was." He grimaced. "Even though I didn't know who I was." Paul scowled. "Still don't."

"Your memories will come back with the good Lord decides they should," said Carol sympathetically. "And until then, you've got a roof over your head and three square meals a day and a friend in me."

Paul looked down at the older woman in confusion. "Why did you take me in, Carol? I mean, I could be anyone. I could be a bad guy, you don't know."

Carol just smiled. "The good book says you should invite strangers into your house because you'll never know when you'll be entertaining angels." She took his hand. "And you've been my angel, Paul, wandering in from the wilderness to save me and this farm. God sent you to me for a reason and I'm mighty grateful. Lewis and me, we never were able to have children and that was the greatest regret in my life." She looked away briefly, trying to hide her pain from him. "I know God had His reasons and I'm not questioning them but now, I feel like He's given you to me, as a gift." Carol looked a little embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to make you feel uncomfortable."

Paul shook his head. "You're not. I feel like God sent me to you too."

"God saved you for a reason, son, of that I have no doubt. You were spared death because He has a higher calling for you and you alone. I know that in my heart. You were saved to do His work."

Paul stared at her, feeling like Carol could see into his soul. "Do you think so?" he asked eagerly. "I want to matter in this world. To do what's right."

Carol reached up and stroked his cheek. "And you will, honey. You're a very special man. I knew that as soon as I saw you. Those terrible scars on the back of your head, you've been through so much in this world, but you're still here and it's because God has need of you."

"Can I call you Mom?" blurted out Paul and then flushed. "Sorry," he mumbled, "I shouldn't have said that."

Carol looked momentarily flustered but then pleased. "Of course you can, honey, I'd be honoured."

Paul smiled at her shyly. "Okay." He hesitated only briefly. "Mom."

Carol patted his arm. "Come on now, let's get cleaned up for evening church. We've got a lot to be thankful for and I don't want to be late to do just that."

Paul nodded dutifully. "Yes, ma'am." He followed her into the house, feeling himself truly relax for the first time since he'd woken up memory-less in Carol's field. She'd called him Paul after Paul the Apostle, the man who'd wandered in the wilderness before returning to preach to others about the coming of the Lord. That had suited him just fine. It made him feel special and Carol had taken really good care of him, nursing him back to health. It felt like his reason for being still alive was just around the corner and Paul was eager to repay the Lord and Carol for looking out for him. Everything in his life was starting to make sense again and Paul felt a newfound peace settle upon him.

It was hours later, long after Paul had gone to bed, when he was awoken by his nightmares. He sat straight up in bed, covered in sweat as he tried to shake off the violent images of his dreams. Paul felt like his head was going to explode as memories bombarded him, all clamouring to be heard first. The door to his bedroom burst open and Carol rushed in.

"Paul, honey, what is it?" she asked in concern.

Paul stared at her wide-eyed, realising he must have called out in his sleep. "I-I had a bad dream," he rasped, memories of another mother standing in his doorway washing over him.

Carol came to sit on the end of his bed. She patted where his legs were under the covers. "It's alright, they were just dreams."

Paul licked his dry lips. "They-they felt so real."

Carol moved closer and put her arms around him and drew him into a fiercely maternal hug. "But they weren't. You're awake now and nothing bad is going to happen to you."

Paul hugged her back, as more memories assaulted him. "I think I've done something bad," he rasped.

"We've all done things which separate us from God's love," soothed Carol, "but that's why He sent His only son to die for our sins. It's a gift we need only accept and then we are washed clean."

Paul blinked. "To do His work."

Carol smiled. "Yes, to do His work, wherever He might lead us. All we have to be is ready and willing to obey."

In his mind's eye Paul could see the woman and man, the way they'd hurt him, the way they were going to ruin that innocent child like his mother had tried to ruin him. The past and the present came together in one moment of perfect epiphany and Paul knew what he had to do. Still in Carol's arms, he looked down to see her feet in velveteen slippers with pink feather pom poms on the top. His eyes glazed over. "I like your shoes," he whispered, feeling all the old urges return, like the embrace of an old friend…

A/N: Oh yeah, sh*t is about to get real now. Lol