Thirty-Six

It was a beautiful day. The sky was so clear and blue that it seemed to sparkle...with not a hint of clouds. Jaime puttered happily around Steve's kitchen, getting the feel for where everything was as she put the finishing touches on a couple of omelets for their breakfast. (Steve had decided to waive his usual 'guests don't help out here' rule, enabling him to keep his eye on her – for her safety...and because watching her made him smile.)

"Beautiful," he said, wrapping his arms around Jaime's waist as she slid the omelets onto their plates. (He wasn't looking at the eggs.) "You're a better cook than I am," he had to admit when he took his first bite.

"I know," Jaime said lightly. "Always have been."

Steve was still amazed at the tiny snippets of the past that kept popping up at unexpected times. Now that the 'short circuits' in her memory had been righted again (at least, as much as they could be), these thoughts seemed to come as naturally to her as observations about the weather. Every new revelation delighted Steve and made his heart swell with hope.

"Still not gonna give you my Mom's cookie recipe, though," she laughed. "So don't ask. I baked a batch for our picnic," she added.

Steve smiled. "Can I at least make the sandwiches?"

* * *

The park by the lake wasn't busy, but it wasn't empty, either...and of course, they were recognized. Thankfully, the first person to approach them was a tennis fan with the right attitude. He didn't stare or turn away; he smiled and came directly to them.

"It's awful what happened to you," he told Jaime. "But I'm so glad you're okay. Good to see you, too, Colonel Austin," he acknowledged. Politely, he shook both Jaime's and Steve's hand and then was gone. (Steve wished that all of their encounters would go that smoothly, but he knew better.)

He let Jaime lead the way and once they reached the lake, she made a beeline for their old, favorite fallen tree and spread her blanket at its roots. (Did she remember...or was it just a lucky choice?)

"I'm surprised this old guy is still here," she said to Steve. "They probably haven't cleared it out 'cause it makes such a great bench. We sure had a lot of good long talks here, huh?"

She did remember! "A lot of fun, too," Steve agreed.

"I don't remember much...about being here last month," she continued (answering another question on Steve's mind).

"Maybe that's for the best," he told her. "You were awfully sick."

"Thank you...for finding me, I mean." Jaime turned to look out at the water. "It still looks the same as it did all those years ago – except the trees are taller." She sighed contentedly and started spreading their feast out on the blanket. While Steve had still been asleep, she had prepared deviled eggs, a simple carrot-raisin salad and Steve's (and her own) favorite chocolate chip/pecan cookies. She made a special point of praising Steve's turkey sandwiches (double-decker, no less!) because after all, he'd made an effort, too.

Of course, Steve reached for a cookie as soon as they were out of the basket, eagerly took a bite and felt himself swoon. Jaime was definitely wife material...but he'd always known that. Maybe someday...

"Almost as good as your Mom's," he said with a mouthful of cookie.

"Almost? Almost, Austin?" Jaime slugged him playfully and took the half-eaten cookie from his hand. She laughed and held the cookie just out of his reach.

Steve shrugged. "There's more on the plate," he chuckled. Quickly, Jaime moved the plate away from him, too. "I'm willing to tickle for those, if necessary," he warned.

"You wouldn't! Not for 'almost as good' cookies!" Jaime giggled.

"Okay. Alright – I'm sorry. They're the best cookies I've ever tasted – and I won't open my big mouth again...except for another cookie."

"That's better," she said, setting the plate back down on the blanket. They laughed together and their eyes met as they felt an almost visible spark pass between them.

A young boy's voice broke the spell far too soon. "Wow – what's it feel like to be dead?"

Jaime tried not to flinch. She recognized him as a student she'd given a tennis lesson to the previous summer. Steve sensed her discomfort and fielded the question. "She was never 'dead', son; we only thought she was. And we're so happy that she's okay now – aren't we?"

The boy nodded, his eyes still wide. "But...my Mom says she went to your funeral. She saw your grave. So you must've been dead. Dead and buried -"

Thankfully, the boy's mother called him away before he could say any more. Steve turned to Jaime (who had grown very quiet) and took her hand. "That's probably the worst thing you'll ever have to hear said about this. It only gets easier from here," he promised.

"Does it?"

"The kid has probably never seen a newspaper and he just heard parts of a conversation. He misunderstood. But I'm so sorry you had to hear that."

"Steve, I don't know if I can do this," Jaime said softly. "I mean, the first time someone questions the story...and I froze."

"You can do this," Steve affirmed. "You are doing it! It takes time, but people will stop talking and just accept it. They'll move on to the next subject to gossip about and they'll just be glad to have you back. Like I am."

Jaime felt like the abyss had somehow grown blacker and even further-reaching than before...and she was losing her foothold. She looked more deeply into Steve's eyes, wishing she could draw upon his strength when she felt this way. He read her silent plea and moved across the blanket to hold her. As she leaned into him, he thought he felt her shiver. More than anything, he wished he could shield her from what she'd be facing as she re-entered 'real life', but at least he knew he'd be right there by her side, guiding her through it.

Suddenly, Jaime lifted her head from his shoulder. "Maybe instead of side-stepping this, I need to face it head-on!" she told him.

"I'm...not following you, Sweetheart."

Jaime's eyes were resolute now, void of any fear and filled with determination. "Steve...I wanna see my grave!"

* * *

"She's still insisting she wants to see it," Steve told Rudy on the phone (while Jaime was taking a shower). "First thing tomorrow, she says."

"Well, I don't think that's a good idea," Rudy replied. "Not yet."

"Short of physically restraining her, got any suggestions, Doc?"

Rudy sighed deeply as he pondered. "It's a short enough drive down there. I'll drop by just after breakfast, saying I need to check her over, now that she's out in the world."

"That'll stall her for an hour or two. What then?" Steve wondered.

"We'll figure it out," Rudy told him. I hope...

* * * * *