"I was surprised when I received your call, Martin. You don't mind if I call you Martin, do you?"
"No."
"Good. I'm not sure if you remember but you can call me Oliver or Dr. Samuels. As I was saying, I was surprised to receive your call. My assistant had to dig in the archives to look up your records. It's been 15 months since you were here last. And, I see from your file, my receptionist even called you five times to book a new appointment. Did you finally get the messages?"
The Doc glares at the young doctor flipping through his patient file behind the fancy, modern desk in the austere consulting room. He says nothing.
"Sorry. I know, bad attempt at humour. So, how can I assist you Martin? I cleared two hours, at your request, and I'm here to help."
The Doc sits quietly for a moment, gathering his thoughts. It had taken him an hour to find the resolve to call Dr. Samuels' office in Wadebridge, an hour spent ruminating in his home office in his empty house, Louisa at work and James Henry at nursery school. He had cancelled all of his appointments for the day and found another surgeon to cover two voluntary procedures scheduled at Truro. He has to find a way to correct what has happened, to make it better.
He hates coming here, talking about his feelings, his behaviour. But he's done it before and seen results. For more than a year, he and Louisa attended marriage counselling with a colleague of Dr. Samuels, referred highly by Ruth. And it had worked. They had sifted through their problems, discussed their past and their hopes for the future, strengthened their communication, discovered one another again. On top of the marriage counselling, the Doc had seen Dr. Samuels on his own, working through his personal issues, his social difficulties, his parents and childhood. He had loathed every minute. And when his relationship with Louisa had improved, he had ceased coming, believing his work was done. He'd obviously been wrong.
"I've made a mistake," he says quietly. "I'm hoping you can help me find a way to correct it. I want to go back to the way things were with my family before, the harmony."
"So what you're saying is you feel there is currently a lack of harmony between you and Louisa?"
"Yes."
"And you feel this was caused by the 'mistake' that you made?"
"Yes."
"What is it that makes you believe your relationship with Louisa is out of harmony?"
With a sigh, the Doc explains the current situation: James Henry overhearing private comments made by him, those comments being repeated to Louisa and one of his colleagues, the mistrust, the hurt feelings, his lack of tact, the locked doors, the banishment. Dr. Samuels listens, nodding occasionally while taking notes.
Once he finishes, there is silence in the room for several long moments. "How do you feel I can help you with this situation, Martin? What are you hoping to gain from this visit?"
The Doc sighs, annoyed with his discomfort in this environment. "I thought I had worked through my issues, dealt with my problems, but this situation just proves I haven't," he says. "I don't know what to do to repair my relationship with my wife and my son. I don't even know how to apologize to my colleague and her husband. I know it's expected of me but part of my mind wonders why I have to when I was speaking the truth."
Dr. Samuels leans back in his chair. "You say you were speaking the truth, Martin, but was it really? Isn't it fair to say it's the truth from your perspective. It would appear not everyone feels this man is an idiot."
"I wouldn't be too sure about that," the Doc mutters.
"Your colleague obviously doesn't think so or she most likely wouldn't have pursued a relationship and married him. And his superiors obviously don't think he is if he still has his job. Obviously, no one from the community has complained about him to officials either, including yourself."
The Doc is silent, considering this.
Dr. Samuels sits forward again, gazing seriously at his patient across the desk. "This is going to take more than a two hour session. It's going to take hard work and dedication, weekly, hour-long sessions. Do you think you can commit to that Martin?"
The Doc is silent for a moment, considering the offer. "Yes."
"Good. Let's get to work then."
Stirling is late for work – very late for work.
The police escort, complete with siren and lights, makes up a bit of time but not much. It also attracts even more attention to her lateness. She leans across to give Joe a kiss before jumping out of the Land Rover.
"Thanks for the ride, Lover Boy," she says opening her door.
"It's the least I could do after making you late. I'll see you tonight."
She slams the door and watches him reverse down the hill. Her eyes are pulled toward the Doc and Louisa's house, where she notices the Lexus is still parked outside. She frowns to herself as she grips her doctor's bag and walks through the front door, bracing herself to face the wrath of Morwenna.
"I'm sorry I'm late," she announces to everyone in the waiting room as she walks in. She's met by the noise of annoyed grumbling and a silent scowl from Morwenna. She grabs her first pile of patient files. "Come on back Mrs. Laskey," Stirling says, removing her long wool overcoat as she hurries toward the consulting room.
It's a busy morning as she works hard to make up the time. She's feeling exhausted as her last patient of the morning walks out the door at half noon. She leans back in her chair with a sigh, closing her eyes and lifting her feet up onto her desk.
"I'm off to have lunch with Al at The Crab," Morwenna says, pulling on her coat. "Do you want anything?"
"No, I'm fine," she says, humming softly under her breath as she clasps her hands over her belly. "Just lock the front door behind you please."
She hears the door close and the lock click into place. She sighs. Silence. The phone is forwarding to the answering machine. She relaxes, hoping she might be able to catch up on some sleep. But her mind keeps coming back to the Doc's car sitting in the lane beside his house. He didn't go to work today, she thinks. The Chief never misses work, ever.
She feels a wave of guilt wash over her again as she plays over in her mind his early morning visit and their exchange of words. Damn, I shouldn't have lost my temper.
She's replaying the argument in her head, looking for different ways she could have handled it better, when the back door of the surgery opens. "Hello?" she hears a familiar voice call.
Stirling smiles. "I'm in the consulting room, Joe," she calls back.
He laughs as he walks in and finds her lounging in her chair, feet up on the desk, eyes closed. "I see you're working hard."
"It's the noon refreshment break," she says, her eyes still closed. "I'm trying to relax."
"Have you had lunch already?"
She opens her eyes and glances at him, a look of guilt on her face. "No, I haven't."
"You didn't have breakfast either, did you?"
"No," she says quietly, blushing. "I was rushed, distracted, I forgot. You were there; a lot was going on this morning."
Joe looks at her, his face an open reflection of every emotion running through his mind – anger, disappointment, concern, fear, and affection. "Good thing I brought you some sarnis I made," he says with a smile, holding up a paper bag.
Stirling laughs as she drops her feet from the desk and sits up in her chair. "Am I that predictable?" she asks, clearing a spot to eat.
Joe pulls a chair up across from her, sits down and opens the bag. "I'm afraid so," he says, lifting out several wrapped sandwiches. "You have a choice. There's roast beef and ham. Actually, we can have one of each if you like."
Once the sarnis are divided, they sit in companionable silence, eating. As soon as she takes her first bite, Stirling is surprised by how hungry she actually is, closing her eyes and enjoying the mix of tastes in her mouth. "How was your morning?" she asks, licking some mustard from her thumb.
"Pretty slow," Joe admits, pausing between bites. "I finished up the paperwork for this morning's accident and then had a call out to a cottage near Port Quin. Someone had smashed a back window but there was nothing missing. I take it your morning was busy?" he asks.
"Completely barmy," she says. "But I caught up." She takes another bite of her sandwich and thinks as she chews. "The Chief didn't go to work today," she says.
Joe looks up from his sarni and gives her a curious look. "His car is not at the house."
"Are you sure? It was this morning."
"When I walked by just now, it was gone."
Hmmm, Stirling thinks, taking another bite. Maybe he just took the morning off. She decides to stop by and check on Louisa on her way home later that afternoon.
She finishes her roast beef sandwich and looks at the ham, her stomach feeling bloated. "I think I'm going to save this for later," she says, picking it up and taking it into the kitchen to put in the refrigerator. After she washes her hands at the kitchen sink, she glances at her watch – 15 minutes past one.
She walks into the piano room and removes the dust cover from the Steinway. She missed playing while she was away. She lifts the keyboard cover and starts slowly with a few easy scales, moving on to more complicated finger exercises. She notices movement out of the corner of her eye and looks over to see Joe, enjoying his second sandwich as he leans against the entryway into the piano room, watching her practice. She smiles and beckons him over to sit with her on the piano bench. He puts his sandwich down on the kitchen table and washes his hands before walking over and sitting next to her.
Stirling gives Joe a quick kiss on the cheek. "What do you feel like hearing?" she asks, aimlessly pressing the keys in little rounds, flexing her thumbs out as far as she can as she tries different chords.
"My choice?" he asks, surprised. She nods. "Something by Adele," he says.
"Adele?" she asks surprised. "I didn't know you liked her music."
He smiles. "I do and I've always wanted to hear you sing one of her songs."
"Anything in particular?"
"You choose."
Stirling looks down at the keyboard for a moment and begins to play the opening to a song that makes Joe smile. "When the rain is blowing in your face, and the whole world is on your case, I could offer you a warm embrace, to make you feel my love," she sings, her eyes closed.
He leans his elbow against the edge of the piano watching her play, mesmerized by her voice and the dexterity of her fingers, fingers they all feared would never play an instrument again. He loves watching her make music and hearing her sing, something he doesn't have the opportunity to experience very often since she moved into the police station with him, leaving the Steinway behind. Sometimes she takes out her acoustic guitar and plays but not as often as he would like.
As she finishes the final chord and opens her eyes, he applauds softly, leaning over and kissing her gently on the lips. "Play me another," he whispers, making her smile.
"Another Adele?"
He nods.
She plays and sings Someone Like You before moving straight into Even the Nights Are Better by Air Supply. After Jar of Hearts by Christina Perri, she decides to lighten it up a bit with It Must Be Love by Madness, convincing Joe to sing along with her.
Morwenna pauses at the front door, her key in the lock, as she listens to the singing coming from the piano room. She smiles as she quietly opens the door, closing it softly behind her. She stands in the front foyer grinning like a fool as she listens to the pair of them in perfect harmony.
"I've got to be near you, every night, every day. I couldn't be happy, any other way. It must be love, love, love. It must be love, love, love. Nothing more, nothing less, love is the best."
Morwenna sits down at her desk and bops her head along to the music as she organizes the afternoon patient files. She smiles as Stirling and Joe laugh at the end of the song, obviously enjoying themselves. When the opening riff of Only the Good Die Young by Billy Joel begins, she knows she has to watch them together. She tiptoes through the back hall and creeps quietly into the kitchen, peeking around the entryway into the room. She almost laughs out loud as she watches Joe sway along with Stirling, his arm around her shoulders, belting out the song with enthusiasm.
"You got a nice white dress and a party on your confirmation. You got a brand new soul, mmmm, and a cross of gold. But Virginia they didn't give you quite enough information. You didn't count on me. You were counting on your rosary. Oh, oh, ooh."
Morwenna is always amazed watching Stirling play and as she bangs out the jazzy bits of the song, the receptionist's eyes widen in surprise. Doc Stirling's fantastic, she thinks, staring as her boss' fingers fly over the keys. She quickly checks her watch and realizes it's almost time for the afternoon surgery to start. She creeps back into the waiting room, surprised to see two patients already seated, their feet tapping to the beat of the piano.
"The Doc should be almost done her break," Morwenna explains, sitting back behind her desk, checking off in the appointment book those who have arrived.
Stirling laughs as she plays the last chord of the song, turning to Joe and kissing him on the lips. "You never told me you could sing," she whispers against his cheek before kissing along his jaw line.
"I'm not very good at it," he says, shivering slightly as she lightly touches the back of his neck.
"You're a wonderful singer," she breathes against his neck. "And you know what?"
"What?" he asks, surprised as she turns her body on the piano bench and slides closer to him, wrapping her legs around his torso.
"Men that are confident enough to sing; that really, really turns me on," she whispers, cupping his face and giving him a searing kiss.
He's surprised by her full frontal assault but finds himself giving in to her demanding lips, pulling her body closer to his body, kissing her back. They're both becoming rather enthusiastic when the mantel clock strikes two.
"Damn," Stirling groans, pulling back to glare at the ticking timepiece, checking it against her watch. "I have to go back to work."
Joe is panting slightly as he looks into Stirling's eyes. "Bloody hell! We should sing together more often if this is how you react. You could teach me some duets."
She laughs, playfully kissing him on the nose. "Definitely! I can teach you how to play the guitar too."
"One step at a time," he says with a smile, standing up from the bench. "Thanks for the lunch entertainment. I'll see you later tonight, Cheeky."
He kisses her softly goodbye, grabs his ham sandwich from the table and walks out the back door, whistling It Must be Love.
Stirling closes up the Steinway and throws the dust cover back over it before walking through the back hall to the consulting room. "I'm ready for my first patient, Morwenna," she calls, rubbing her fingers against her slightly swollen lips.
Her afternoon proves to be as busy as her morning, her last patient of the day Morwenna. She weighs and measures her, checks her sugar and protein levels and measures her blood pressure before checking the baby's heart rate. She feels around her belly, assessing the baby's position.
"He's still head up, bum down but there's lots of room in there for him to shift. And there's time. You're still about seven to eight weeks out from your due date and everything's progressing on schedule. You're blood pressure is a bit high and I'd like to keep a closer eye on it. I might have you stay late once a week so we can measure it, if that works for you."
She nods her head.
"Do you have any questions or concerns?"
"Al and I have been discussing some things and we've decided we'd like to try to have the baby at home," Morwenna says.
"Okay," Stirling says slowly, thinking her request over. "I'm not seeing any reason why you can't plan for a home birth. But a lot will depend on how your blood pressure progresses and the baby's position closer to your due date. Feel free to plan for it but keep your mind open to the possibility you might need to go to a birthing centre in Bodmin or Wadebridge or even to the hospital in Truro if things don't work out as planned."
"I understand," say Morwenna.
"You might want to contact the local midwife, Molly, for some different home birth ideas. I understand water births can help with relaxing during delivery. Molly has all the latest support aids to test out and try."
Morwenna smiles. "I'll be sure and have her stop by so we can check them out. But I still want you to deliver my baby," she adds.
"Call me, I'll be there," Stirling says with a smile, making a notation in Morwenna's file. "I think that's all for tonight. In a few weeks, we'll be moving to more frequent check-ups, okay?"
After her receptionist has left for the day, Stirling realizes she's going to need to start advertising for a replacement for Morwenna's maternity leave. I'll work on the ad wording tonight, she decides, running over in her mind where she can place it. Obviously I'll post it locally but I might try the Cornish Guardian or the newspapers in Bodmin, Wadebridge and Bude.
She tidies up the surgery in preparation for the next day and grabs her doctor's bag before double checking the front door and exiting out the back, locking up behind her. As she walks down the hill, she notices the Doc's car is parked beside his house again. She decides to leave her visit with Louisa for another day and walks by.
The Doc keeps a close watch on the timer as he wrestles with the hothouse flowers he purchased in Wadebridge, trying to arrange them in a vase. He's not sure he likes the end result as he gazes at his feeble attempt at flower arranging but he doesn't have time to fix it. Louisa and James Henry are expected soon.
Since his arrival home from Dr. Samuels' office, he's been busy planning his apology. "It has to be something from the heart, a self-sacrifice that Louisa can appreciate," his therapist had suggested.
So the Doc's been busy for most of the afternoon, cleaning and straightening the house while planning and cooking a nutritious and appetizing meal. He decided to buy the flowers on the drive home as an added insurance policy, remembering Dr. Aylesworth's advice.
At the stationary store next door to the flower shoppe, he spent about 40 minutes picking out a suitable blank card, longer than it had taken him to choose the flower bouquet. He then spent another hour in his home office composing the appropriately worded apology to write on the inside of the card. It had taken at least 10 drafts before he felt it was perfect. Now the envelope sits perched against the flower vase just in front of Louisa's usual place at the table.
He feels a small stab of anxiety as he hears the side door open and the sound of Louisa and James Henry's voices. "Yummy, yummy," the little boy shouts as he runs down the hall into the kitchen, his eyes gazing way up at his father, who stands formally by the cooker, hands clasped in front of him.
"Yes, it does smell yummy," says Louisa as she follows him into the room. She stops as she sees the Doc standing there, waiting. She looks around the room, taking in the bubbling pots on the cooker top and the neatly arranged kitchen table, complete with a rather strange-looking flower arrangement. "Martin," she says softly. "You're home early."
"Louisa," he says, clearing his throat nervously. "I need to apologize to you for what happened involving ..." He pauses for a moment, realizing he can't talk about the issue openly in front of his son. "For what happened involving JH yesterday," he says.
Louisa remains silent, watching him with wide eyes while James Henry scampers to his bedroom, singing "Yummy, yummy, yummy," over and over again.
"I was wrong to speak my thoughts so freely in front of James Henry. In my defence, I didn't think he would understand what I was discussing. I was mistaken."
Louisa's eyes open even wider, amazed to hear him admit twice that he was in the wrong.
"I spent today thinking of a way to make it up to you, to apologize for my actions." He pauses for a moment. "I visited Dr. Samuels this afternoon."
She gasps, surprised.
"We've decided that I should continue to see him every other week for the next few months. It's obvious I haven't made as much progress as I thought and there are still have some issues I need to work through."
Louisa feels tears stinging in the corners of her eyes as she listens to her husband say words she thought he would never utter. Her hands tremble as she tries to hold back her emotions.
"I'm hoping you can forgive me," he says quietly. "I don't want to spend another night sleeping alone. Which reminds me, we really need to buy a more comfortable chesterfield. Our current one is very hard, which can be damaging to one's spine."
Louisa moves as swiftly as she can across the kitchen floor and wraps her arms around the Doc, drawing his head down for a kiss. "Yes," she sniffles through her tears. "Of course I forgive you. And I hope you can forgive me for shutting you out the way I did. It wasn't fair of me."
They hold each other close for several long moments, only pulling away from one another when the timer dings. "The fish is ready," the Doc says as he stares into his wife's eyes, lost in their depths.
"Oh," Louisa says suddenly, a hand quickly rubbing against her very pregnant belly.
"What?" the Doc asks, slightly alarmed.
She gently takes his hand and places it along her left side where he can feel lots of movement under his fingers. Louisa watches his expression and smiles. "I think our baby is looking forward to the fish as much as I am."
"Then we better get you fed," he says, pulling out her chair and helping her sit before moving toward the cooker to serve dinner.
"The flowers are beautiful," she says, admiring the bright blooms.
"Dr. Aylesworth suggested them," he says, pulling the fish from the oven before moving to drain the potatoes. "There's a card there for you as well."
Louisa sits quietly for a moment before turning in her chair to face her husband. "You do realize that to really make this right, you also need to apologize to Stirling and Joe," she says.
He stops his bustling and turns to face her. "I know," he says solemnly.
"Good morning," Stirling whispers in Joe's right ear, nibbling on his ear lobe before kissing slowly down his neck and along his collar bone.
She smiles as he laughs in his sleep, his lips curling into a smile as he turns his head. His eyes open a sliver, looking up at the face hovering just above his.
"Good morning," he mumbles, stretching out his arms. He can't move his body. He looks down toward his feet and realizes he can't move because Stirling is straddling his lower torso. "What are you up to?" he asks, his eyes taking in the amazing view of her breasts and well-rounded belly he is being treated to.
"What time is it?" he asks, fumbling around for his watch on the bedside table.
"Six," she whispers before gently biting into his bottom lip.
"Six! You woke me up at six in the morning? Damn!" he grumbles, rubbing his hands down his face.
"Don't be cross," she says softly, licking down the centre line of his chest. "I couldn't sleep."
"I can make you some warm milk if you like," he says, shivering as she kisses back up his chest, her fingers tickling his skin.
She smiles and chuckles softly. "No thank you. I'd rather have something else."
Stirling's lips are back covering his, pressing greedily. Her hands cradle his head, fingers gently fisting his hair.
"Do you ever get enough?," he groans, pulling her body close against his. He tries to roll on top of her but she stops him with a quick shift of her body. "I don't think so, Lover Boy. I have you right where I want you."
They are both squirming against each others' bodies when a shrill noise echoes through the bedroom. At first they ignore it, too wrapped up in what they are doing to notice. But as the annoying ringing continues, Stirling is forced to pull her lips away from Joe's and stretch over to grip her mobile with the tips of her fingers.
"Yes!" she yells out loudly as she answers the call, her body thrilling under the touch of Joe's hands and fingers.
She tries to control her breathing as she listens to the person on the other end of the call. "How high is his temperature?" she asks. Joe smiles up at her as he slowly pulls her body lower so he can kiss and suck on her neck. She gasps loudly, gulping for air.
"No, no, everything's fine Mrs. Cleary," she stutters. "I was just startled by something."
She takes a deep breath, trying to clear her head despite Joe's teasing lips. "I suggest you put him in a lukewarm bath for about 30 to 40 minutes, see if you can lower his temperature that way. If not, bring him into the surgery first thing. Morwenna or I should be there between eight and eight-thirty. Okay?"
Stirling disconnects the call, dropping the mobile on the bed beside her before lowering her mouth to Joe's neck, seizing his skin between her teeth.
"Aahh! You bit me!" he yells, surprised by her aggression.
"You're an evil man," she says, gently kissing the sore spot on his neck before moving her lips back to his.
He grabs her and rolls on top of her. "Now I have you right where I want you, Cheeky."
Within minutes, he has her mind overloaded with the various sensations her body is experiencing. "Oh god, Joe, do that again," she sighs breathlessly, her hands gripping his back.
"You like that, do you?" he teases, his body shifting against her, making her cry out again.
"Oh god!" she groans. "Oh!"
And that's when the knocking starts on the front door.
Joe is instantly distracted, ceasing all movement.
"No! Don't stop!" Stirling cries out, her fingers scrabbling against his back, trying to pull him closer.
There's another flurry of knocking, soon building to pounding.
"Bloody hell!" Joe says, rolling off Stirling and sitting on the side of the bed. He reaches for his boxers and slips them on.
"No!" she says shrilly, rolling onto her side to face him. "You can't leave me now! Don't go!"
"Can't you hear that?" he asks her as he pulls on his shirt and strides to the door, opening it forcefully.
She stills just as another flurry of loud pounding is heard downstairs. "Damn!" she says, rolling onto her back and covering her face with her hands. "It's the Chief!"
Joe is already out the bedroom door and marching down the hall, missing her announcement. He pounds down the stairs, feeling extremely annoyed. "This better be a bloody emergency or I'm going to ..."
He falls silent as he yanks open the door and comes face-to-face with the Doc. They both stare silently at one another for several seconds, surprised.
As usual, the Doc is impeccably dressed, this time in a dark blue suit with a lighter blue silk tie, his hair neatly combed and his shave close and thorough.
As the Doc examines Joe's flushed appearance, his dishevelled hair and heavy breathing, he wonders if he might have interrupted something. The fresh looking love bite on the sergeant's lower neck provides him with the final proof.
"Good morning, Joe," he says formally. "My apologies for dropping by so early in the morning. I was hoping to speak with Dr. Aylesworth if I could."
He waits patiently as the half-dressed police sergeant stares at him, his eyes wide with disbelief. He just called me Joe. He never calls me Joe. It's always Penhale.
He slowly backs up, opening the door wider for the Doc to come in. As the older man passes him, Joe wonders if he might have fallen and struck his head or had a stroke overnight. "Stirling," he calls up the stairs, never taking his eyes off the Doc. "There's someone here to see you."
She lies in the bed, her hands still covering her face, wishing he would just go away. Two mornings in a row? she wonders. With a deep sigh, she sits upright and rolls out of bed, reaching for her dressing gown and pulling it on. "I'm coming," she calls as she walks out the bedroom door, ducking quickly into the loo to run a brush through her mussed hair. She glances in the mirror and flinches. I look like I've been playing blanket monster, she thinks, examining the whisker burn marks along the side of her jaw. She shrugs. Show up at 6:30 in the morning, this is what you get.
She walks down the stairs and is surprised to find the Doc calmly sitting at the kitchen table with Joe puttering about in his boxers making coffee. "Good morning, Chief," she says, walking into the kitchen and leaning against the counter. "We need to stop meeting this way."
"I'm sorry for disturbing you this early in the morning but I needed to talk with both you and Joe before I left for Truro." He clears his throat as he's handed a cup of coffee, which he sips before continuing. "I'd like to apologize for what happened the other day."
Stirling is quiet, her eyes wide with disbelief. Did he just use Joe's actual given name? Followed by a sentence starting with 'I'd like to apologize?'"
"You were correct, Dr. Aylesworth. What I said did show a lack of respect for both you and Joe and it was hurtful. It also showed a lack of tact on my part to repeat it within hearing of James Henry. I would like to apologize for any hurt and upset I have caused you through my comments."
The kitchen is completely still and quiet as both Stirling and Joe stare at him for several moments before turning to look at each other in shocked surprise. She turns to look back at the Doc.
"Thank you, Chief," she says, her mind reeling. It's way too early for me to be dealing with this, she thinks. I must be dreaming.
As he swallows another sip of coffee, the Doc struggles hard not to shudder as the full kick of Joe's incredibly strong brew hits him. He sets his cup down with a rattle, pushing back from the table. "I should be on my way," he announces, standing up.
Stirling is uncertain what to do. The Doc has just done the unthinkable – apologized for his actions and treated Joe with respect. "Thank you" just doesn't seem enough. She pushes away from the counter and approaches him slowly, still undecided. She looks up at him and smiles, throwing her arms around him in a big hug.
"Thank you, Chief," she says again, squeezing him tightly. He stands rigid, uncomfortable with her display of affection. He looks across the room at Joe, who shrugs, as baffled by her behaviour as the Doc. She loosens her grip, stepping back and standing on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his right cheek. "I forgive you," she says quietly.
He looks down at Stirling, her eyes shiny with tears. He clears his throat awkwardly. "Well, I'm on my way." He turns abruptly and strides purposefully out the door.
For a long time, no one moves or says anything. Eventually, Stirling turns and looks at Joe. "He said he was sorry and called you by your actual name," she says, her voice filled with awe.
"He did."
She walks over to Joe and wraps her arms around him. He holds her gently against him, rubbing his hand up and down her back as she sobs against his chest. And he wonders if he will ever understand what can push her to tears.