True Companions

by Mary

An inside glimpse at "Scarecrow and Mrs. King" through four very different sets of eyes...

2. Part Two - Dotty

Disclaimer: See Part One…

TRUE COMPANIONS

PART TWO:

DOTTY WEST

"TRUTH"

"Phillip King, hang up the phone this instant," I said, trying to keep the exasperation out of my voice. My oldest grandson had abominable telephone manners. He'd kept that thing tied up for hours, and I was expecting a call from my occasional boyfriend, Captain Curt.

"He's talking to Nancy Crawford," Jamie muttered, rolling his eyes as he tried to sneak a cookie from the jar. He had developed a sweet tooth as a toddler, and Amanda and I both fought an endless battle with his atrocious eating habits. Fruits and vegetables were just so much healthier for a growing boy – especially one with braces.

I gave him a look that conveyed exactly what I thought of that particular snack. Shrugging his shoulders, he accepted the orange I offered. "She makes him call her at least twice a day, Grandma," he added, working industriously on the peel. "They're in love."

"Your brother may be in love, but he's going to be in the doghouse if he doesn't HANG UP THAT PHONE," I repeated, raising my voice to emphasize the last few words. Adolescence really was the most trying time. I remembered when Amanda was a teenager – the phone ringing at all hours of the day and night, waiting up for her to come home from a date, worrying about where she was going, what she was doing - and whom she was doing it with.

Come to think of it, life hadn't changed much some twenty years later. I guess motherhood is one job that doesn't come with a retirement package.

I'd moved in with Amanda and the boys a little over five years ago. My husband Carl had just died, and we were all reeling. To make matters worse, Amanda was going through a painful divorce. She needed me; we needed each other. Loss is never easy to take, no matter what form it comes in.

I loved being a daily part of their lives. It gave me something new to focus on, something positive. Although I soon discovered raising two rambunctious boys to be a tiny bit more challenging than raising a daughter. Well, maybe challenging isn't quite the right word. Whatever it was, it was definitely messier. What wonderment little boys see in the great outdoors, I'll never be able to fathom. Maybe that is the fundamental difference between the sexes after all – boys aren't able to have fun unless they can get dirty. As far as I was concerned, trees could most definitely be left to the birds. I preferred to do my camping at the Holiday Inn.

Still, it was good to be needed. Though there were times lately that I felt more like their mother than their grandmother. I'd been standing in for Amanda at countless functions, both in school and out. She was so wrapped up in that job of hers that she was hardly ever home. She'd totally forgotten about Phillip's last open house at school and missed seeing Jamie play Rip Van Winkle last year at Family Night - after she'd given me her solemn promise to be there. Why, she'd even had to work on Christmas Eve.

Of course, if it was work that had her so enthralled. I wasn't entirely convinced. I had a few theories of my own on that score, but I hadn't been able to get a straight answer from her yet. Over the last few years, my daughter had turned dodging my questions into a new art form.

I couldn't help hoping that one of these days, she'd decide to remarry and settle down. We really could use a man around the house - if for nothing else than to keep Amanda from attempting any more plumbing repairs. We were still sorting through the mess from her last project. Although, as Jamie put it, the upstairs bathroom was gnarly – as long as you remembered that hot really meant cold. After that fiasco, she'd finally agreed to use professionals for future household repairs.

However, she still met all my matrimonial hints with that same tolerant smile - the one I was beginning to find very irritating. After all, she was my only child, and I just wanted what was best for her.

She had dated a simply wonderful man three years ago, Dean McGuire, but nothing ever came of it. It certainly wasn't for lack of trying on Dean's part. He was just crazy about Amanda. And did she care? Not in the least. I mean, here he was, a dependable man with a good steady job, and my daughter wasn't the tiniest bit interested. I blamed it all on that crazy film company, IFF.

Of course, once I'd finally met her boss, Lee Stetson, the picture became a lot clearer. She could deny it until the cows came home, but there was more between the two of them than cameras and projectors. Amanda wasn't fooling me one tiny bit - after all, I'd known her since the day she was born. I'd seen her in love before.

"I'm off the phone," Phillip told me, adjusting the sunglasses that hung around his neck as he flashed me his best boyish grin.

"Well, it's about time." I struggled not to smile. Phillip had a way about him, and I was determined not to let him wheedle out of this one. "You're not the only one in the house with a love life, you know."

"I know, Grandma," he laughed, and I couldn't stay annoyed any longer. He really was growing up so quickly. He'd shot up like a weed in the few short weeks since Christmas. And his unexpected sensitivity when I'd had to break things off with my gentleman friend Harry Berrigan had really been quite touching.

"Have you two finished your homework? Tomorrow's a school day," I added with appropriate grandmotherly concern.

"You never used to make us do our homework, Grandma," Jamie muttered.

"Times change, and I have to change with them," I teased. Amanda had made me promise to keep their noses to the grindstone this week. In fact, she'd left me an entire list of chores - as if I wasn't perfectly capable of running this household alone when I had to. Of course, it didn't take a genius to know what she was really up to. That list was nothing more than a smokescreen to keep me from asking too many questions about her little trip.

Jamie tossed his orange peel into the trash with an exaggerated motion, grumbling under his breath about rules and homework, and I pushed my thoughts of Amanda aside. His uncharacteristic behavior took me by surprise. He was our 'A' student who always completed his assignments on time.

"Come on," I cajoled, ignoring his mood and opting for a light approach. "I'm sure it won't take you that long to finish up." I reached out and tousled his hair affectionately. "You know your mother will expect a full report when she gets back."

His face clouded over momentarily as he pulled away, and my suspicions were confirmed. My youngest grandson was losing his battle with the green-eyed monster. He'd seemed a little subdued lately, but I had hoped it was my imagination. He did have a lot on his plate at the moment, I thought with a sigh. His father had just announced his engagement, and his brother seemed to be pulling away, the two-year gap in their ages widening every day. I could certainly empathize; I'd been the baby of my family, too, always tagging along behind my sister Lillian. I'd tried to reassure him that Phillip was just going through a phase and his involvement with this latest girl was just a passing interest, but it didn't seem to help. I suspected the heart of the problem lay in his mother's not so passing interest in Lee Stetson.

The phone rang and Phillip sprang to answer it.

"No, you don't," I interjected quickly, beating him to the receiver. "This time it's for me. And I expect some privacy."

"I never get any privacy," Phillip complained.

"When you get to be fif. . . my age," I quickly amended, "you can have all the privacy you want. Now scoot, both of you. It's late – go on, do your homework."

I watched them run up the stairs, thankful that Curt was at least determined. A less persistent man would have hung up by now.

"Hello," I answered absently, my thoughts still on Jamie as I picked up the phone.

"Hello, Mrs. West?"

It wasn't Curt on the other end of the line, but I immediately recognized that distinctive voice. "Lee, is that you?" He was the last person I'd expected to hear from. Despite Amanda's numerous protestations to the contrary, I'd been convinced that they were together.

"Yes, it's Lee."

"Lee, dear. . . how are you doing?" I purposely kept my tone non-committal, fishing for information. I really was hoping that my daughter had finally decided to do something about this one. Even on a bad day, he was a definite '11'.

"Well, I'm afraid. . . I'm not doing. . . so well right now."

Call it mother's intuition, but something in his tone told me that I didn't want to hear what was coming. I knew Lee still felt a little awkward around me, but his halting sentence was a bit extreme, even for him. "What's the matter?" I asked, holding my breath.

"It's Amanda." He paused, and I backed away from the counter, falling into the hard comfort of the kitchen chair. "There's been an accident."

"An accident? What kind of accident? What happened? Is she all right?" A million questions popped into my head, and I couldn't seem to keep them out of my mouth.

"Please, Mrs. West. . ."

The strain in his voice was clearly evident. I took a deep breath. "Lee, tell me what happened."

"There was a shooting. . ."

"Oh my God. . . she's not. . ." I couldn't say the word.

"No, no, she alive, but. . . she just got out of surgery. The doctor said she was really very lucky. A fraction of an inch higher or lower. . ."

"Oh my God," I repeated. "How is she?"

"Well, she survived the surgery. They didn't think. . ."

His voice broke, rendering us both silent. "It's touch and go," he finally continued painfully. "The next forty-eight hours are critical. If she can hang on. . ."

"I'll be there as soon as I can," I said immediately. He didn't argue, in itself a testimony to the precariousness of my daughter's hold on life. "I just have to make arrangements for the boys. . . the boys. . . oh, Lee, what should I tell them?"

"You'd better tell them the truth." He paused briefly before adding tersely, "I think they need to know."

"Okay," I whispered, rubbing my hand back and forth across my chest while I considered the options. "It's probably too late to get a flight tonight, but I'll be there tomorrow."

"Do you know where. . ."

"Amanda left me your itinerary," I responded, noting that he didn't even try to cover. I guess that was one question answered, but it hardly mattered now.

"Okay. Let me give you the hospital's phone number and the number where I'm staying, in case you need it."

I numbly copied down the information. "Take good care of my baby," I told him, trying to keep my voice from shaking.

I could hear his harsh breathing, and I had a strange feeling that I'd unwittingly said the wrong thing. There was an awkward pause, and we were both thrust into limbo - miles apart yet still oddly connected through the invisible wires of the phone. "Lee. . ."

"I will." He spoke quickly, a funny quality in his voice that I couldn't quite place - almost as if he somehow considered the accident his fault.

"I'll be there as soon as I can," I repeated, not knowing what else to say. "Hang on. . . both of you." I had the feeling that Amanda's Mr. Stetson needed mothering as much she did.

I numbly replaced the phone in its cradle and slumped over the kitchen table, my head in my hands. I felt as helpless as I had when I'd gotten that other phone call, the one informing me of Carl's fatal heart attack. Amanda had been my rock then, but now. . .

I heard the playful scuffling of the boys upstairs, and I tried to think of what she'd want me to do. Someone had to tell them. I couldn't handle this alone.

I picked up the phone and dialed Joe.

* * *

The plane hit another bumpy patch and the 'fasten seat belt' sign switched on. Clear air turbulence again, I thought automatically, remembering my first flight lesson with Captain Curt. I shifted in my seat, trying in vain to get a little sleep.

I felt as if I'd been traveling for days instead of hours. First, there had been the mix up with my ticket, then the flight had been delayed due to mechanical difficulties. And when we finally did get underway, I'd been forced to listen to a blow-by-blow description of my seat partner's fiancé's hemorrhoid surgery. Normally, I enjoyed getting to know people when I traveled, but today I couldn't summon the energy or the inclination. I finally pleaded a headache, and she left me in peace. I felt a little guilty for the lie, but I was too worried about Amanda to deal with anything else.

I'd spoken briefly with Lee before I left, and he hadn't been very encouraging.

I could tell he hadn't slept a wink. I could hear it in his voice, that bone-weary fatigue which in itself was a pretty clear indicator of Amanda's condition. Actually, I hadn't fared much better myself in that department. Every time I closed my eyes, I pictured my daughter, alone in California without any of her family, fighting for her life.

I sent her another silent prayer to hang on.

The boys weren't coping any better. The fear on their faces as their and I told them the news had almost broken my heart. They liked to think of themselves as so grown up, but they were really just little boys. Phillip naturally felt it was his duty as the eldest to be strong, but I could see that underneath his brave front, he was just as shaken as his younger brother. And I didn't have the words to reassure either one of them - or to answer their unspoken question.

At least their father was there for them. Joe really had been wonderful, immediately volunteering to come and stay for the duration. "I think they need to be in familiar surroundings," he told me gravely, his own concern showing plainly on his face. The boys frequently spent weekends at his small apartment, but the house on Maplewood Drive was home.

"Thank you, Joe," I responded, gratefully accepting his supportive hug. "I'm sure Amanda would want you to be here." She had heartily approved when he had stepped in last fall. She had been in trouble with the government over some ridiculous security mix up and was hiding out from some equally ridiculous federal agents. Amanda on the 'most wanted' list – how absurd! It was just one more example of the way the government wasted our tax dollars.

Of course, Lee Stetson had been in the middle of that mess, too. He appeared to have the strangest effect on my otherwise sane daughter. I was beginning to think their relationship was a puzzle I might never decipher.

Now Amanda and Joe – that I could understand. She had never made a secret of her feelings for Joe King. The way she talked and talked about him after their first date – well, suffice to say I was convinced she considered him 'the one'. Getting her to say even the tiniest thing about Mr. Stetson was like pulling teeth.

Despite their divorce, Amanda and Joe were very close. I knew he still considered Amanda and the boys his family. When he'd decided to move back to Washington, I'd hoped there might be a future for the two of them after all.

"I'm always gonna love Joe, but we're just good friends," Amanda told me when I'd finally cornered her about it. I could hear that wistful note in her voice, and I did wonder if she'd considered getting back with him. After all, he was the father of her children. But she assured me again that it wasn't true, that she didn't care for Joe in that way. I had a strong suspicion that there was someone else she did care about, but once again she slipped out of the room before I had the chance to ask.

Turning her back on the past hadn't been easy for her. I'd seen how hard she'd tried to make her marriage work - even when it had been less than ideal.

After graduating from law school, Joe had accepted a crazy job with the EAO and was moving constantly. Amanda felt the boys were too little to be continuously uprooted, so the three of them remained in Arlington while Joe traveled all over, mostly to third world countries. He'd spend a few months here, a few months there, dropping in to visit between assignments. When he was home, they always seemed like a picture perfect family. But when he left, I could see the melancholy settle over their household again. Amanda tried to stay busy with the boys, but I knew it wasn't enough. A woman needs a husband, too.

I didn't really understand that job of his, and I told her so, but she defended him. "Joe just has a lot inside he wants to give," she said, hiding her tears after he'd departed yet again, this time for Africa.

"If that's the case, Amanda, then he should think about giving a little of himself to his family, instead of gallivanting all over the world, " I answered sarcastically. "He has responsibilities here, too."

"He does the best he can, Mother."

"If you say so, darling." If Amanda was anything, she was loyal. Just like her father. And she always seemed inclined to defend Joe after one of his lightening trips home. I wasn't sure if she was trying to convince me, or herself.

After a few more years of their commuter marriage, even Amanda finally had to acknowledge that it just wasn't going to work. It almost broke my heart to see her in so much pain. I couldn't help but remember the radiant look on her face as she'd walked down the aisle on her father's arm. Carl had been beaming, too. He'd really thought so highly of Joe, we both did. It was such a beautiful, lavish wedding; it was just a shame the marriage ended so dismally.

She hated to admit that marrying young might have been a mistake. Amanda could be very stubborn sometimes. My sister Lillian was exactly the same way. It was a trait, I'm afraid, that most of the women in our family shared.

I hoped it would stand her in good stead now.

* * *

It was late by the time I arrived at the hospital. After inquiring at the desk, I was directed to intensive care. The hallways were quiet, almost eerily so, the few visitors still in the waiting areas speaking in hushed tones. Why did a hospital always make people want to whisper? As if speaking too loudly might interfere with the life and death dramas being waged behind closed doors.

The atmosphere certainly seemed dramatic. I felt as if I had stepped right into one of my afternoon soap operas. Everything seemed so surreal. Any minute now, I thought, this nightmare would be over. I'd hear Amanda's voice telling me I'd fallen asleep in front of the TV again, and the two of us would share a good laugh.

I stopped in front of room 346C. A small sign on the door indicated oxygen in use, and I felt my heart begin to pound furiously. I reached for the door, but it opened from the inside as a nurse emerged from my daughter's room. She smiled sympathetically as she swept by me, but she never quite made eye contact. Amanda's condition must be even worse than I imagined.

I quickly stepped into the room. She lay flat on the bed, an oxygen tent covering her face and chest. This must be a very small hospital, I told myself uneasily. I hadn't seen one of those contraptions in years. She looked unnaturally still under all that plastic. Deathly still.

Lee didn't look much better. The man sat like a statue beside her bed, just staring at Amanda's pale face. He didn't even hear me come into the room. He looked oddly lost, almost like a little boy, so unlike the Lee Stetson I'd come to know. It suddenly struck me that he didn't believe she was going to make it.

"Oh my God. . ." My hands flew to my mouth as I involuntarily spoke the words.

He turned, his back unconsciously straightening as his eyes rested on mine. He hurried over to meet me, hesitating for a fraction of a section before placing a calming hand on my back.

"She's stable," he reassured me, "but still in critical condition. All we can do is wait."

I clasped my hands together in another silent prayer. "She's going to be fine, she's going to be. . . absolutely. . . fine." I kept saying the words, as if repetition might actually make them true. His arm tightened around me, and I could feel how badly he wanted to believe that, too.

"Lee," I said, doing my best to comfort him. "I've never seen her give up on anything that's important. And she's not going to give up now." I moved closer to the bed, looking down into my daughter's face, the steady beep—beep of the monitors echoing in the background. An annoying sound, yet at the same time, strangely comforting.

"My God," I exclaimed again. "What happened? Who did this? Why? It doesn't make any sense."

"Come on," he murmured soothingly, his arm on my back again. "I'll tell you everything I know, all right? Come on," he urged once more, guiding me from the room.

I paused to look back at her once more, my beautiful daughter, my baby. So helpless. . . "Ohh," I whispered, stifling a sob as I headed into the hall. The lights were very bright, glaringly so, and I blinked as I struggled to make the transition from the relative darkness of Amanda's room. I glanced back over my shoulder one last time. Lee stood by the door, his eyes still on Amanda, as if he couldn't quite tear himself from her. Then very slowly he backed away, staring at the floor as the door drifted shut.

"Lee. . . " I called quietly.

He took a deep breath and moved towards me, his arm snapping back into place on my back. "Why don't we go to the cafeteria," he suggested. "I'm sure the food on the plane wasn't fit to eat."

I opened my mouth to tell him I wasn't hungry when I realized that he needed to do something – anything – to get his mind off the situation. I understood the feeling. It was agonizing to be so helpless. Especially, I thought with sudden insight, for this man standing beside me. The only concrete thing I could do for Amanda right now was to help the people she cared about. If pretending to eat would do that for Lee, then I was more than willing to try.

We made our way to the cafeteria in silence. Visiting hours had ended long ago and the hallways were practically deserted. We passed only the few other unfortunate souls who were, just like us, keeping watch on their own critically ill loved ones.

"What would you like?" Lee asked solicitously as we entered the equally empty cafeteria.

I stood by the counter, looking at the food, unable to make a decision.

"The sandwiches don't look too bad," he prompted, but I noticed he didn't make a move to take one.

"Maybe later," I told him, unable to keep up the charade. I was just too tired, too worried, too scared.

He seemed to understand. "How about some coffee then?" he suggested kindly.

"That I can handle." I picked up a tray, sliding it to the end of the counter. Lee paid the cashier while I filled two cups, grabbing some cream for him and some sugar for myself.

I caught him looking at me strangely. "Amanda told me," I responded, answering his unspoken question. "That day you two helped out with Harry."

"Oh, yeah," he nodded sadly. "That day." Exhaling loudly, he took the tray from me, making his way carefully across the room. I followed closely behind him, our footsteps clattering loudly in the silent cafeteria.

We settled on a table in the corner. He set the tray down with deliberate care, running a hand through his hair before pulling out my chair. I sank into it, thankful to be off my feet. I wasn't sure how much longer my wobbly legs would have supported me.

Lee did the same. I watched as he fiddled with his coffee, adding a little cream and absently stirring, then repeating the process all over again. He never bothered to take even the smallest sip.

"Lee," I said, finally interrupting, "you were going to tell me what happened to Amanda."

He nodded, dropping the spoon on his plate. It made a sharp clanging sound, the noise reverberating through the room. He took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled, leaning forward on the table.

"We were, um, visiting an old friend of mine," he began, resting his chin on his hand. "Down by the pier. We were just getting out of the car when the shooting started. My friend Barney yelled a warning, and I told Amanda to take cover. Then it stopped as quickly as it started. I found her in the front seat. The bullet had gone straight through the windshield – into her chest."

"No one saw anything? Or heard anything?" I asked incredulously. On television, guns always made a lot of noise.

"Whoever it was, he used a high powered, telescopic rifle fitted with a silencer. That wouldn't give any warning sound. The next thing I knew, Amanda was hit."

"Hit?" He sounded like a man who knew his subject well - like Ephram Zimbalist, Jr. on my favorite old show, 'The FBI'.

"Shot," he added quickly, smoothing his hair again. "Anyway, that's what the sheriff said."

"Does he have any idea who did this?"

"He's 'looking into it'," Lee said contemptuously.

"Someone needs to do something," I sputtered, drumming my nails on the tabletop. "I mean, what kind of police force is it? They can't just let nuts like that run around, shooting innocent people. . ."

I felt his hand on mine, and I suddenly stopped. "Don't worry, it'll be taken care of." The look of steely determination in his eyes worried me a little, and I closed my other hand over his.

"I'm sorry," I sighed, giving him a careful pat. "All that doesn't really matter, does it? Amanda is the one who matters."

The lights suddenly seemed too bright, and I closed my eyes. The images flashing in my mind were infinitely worse, so I quickly opened them again. "Was she awake?" I asked suddenly. "After it happened, I mean. Was she in any pain?" I needed him to tell me that she hadn't suffered.

"No," he answered, the lines on his forehead deepening as he frowned. "She never regained consciousness. In the ambulance, I almost thought she was. . . but she made it to the hospital. The doctors took her. . . they wouldn't let me stay with her. She went right up to surgery."

"Lee. . ." I leaned across the small table and gently shook him, forcing him to look at me. The expression on his face brought tears to my eyes, and I knew then just how deeply this man loved my daughter. I felt a rush of warmth for him, like a mother for a son. I automatically rubbed his shoulder, the same way I did to the boys when they needed my special brand of comfort.

"Amanda is a very determined woman," I said, reminding myself of that fact along with him. "She won't leave the people she loves."

"That's what I keep telling myself, but. . ."

"No 'buts' about it," I insisted. "My daughter always gives 110% to everything she does. This won't be any different. Why, I remember a few years ago, before she got her job with IFF, she had this little pet and plant business. She took care of people's pets – dogs, cats, even a chimpanzee once - and watered their plants. You know, when they were away," I explained, catching the quizzical look on his face. "She got so caught up in it – I actually found her crying one day over a plant that had died."

I saw that I had finally made him smile. "Amanda's just like that," I continued. "She cares about everything."

"Yeah, she does." His eyes had a faraway look, and he seemed lost in some private memory. He shook his head slightly and turned to me. "I'm sorry I didn't call you sooner," he told me apologetically, his hand absently patting mine. "But I didn't know what to say. It seemed like she was in that operating room for days. I wanted to have some good news to tell you, but Dr. Neely wasn't very. . . hopeful." Abruptly, his words stopped and I could see him drifting away again.

"Dr. Neely?" I prodded, bringing him back to the present.

"Her surgeon."

"What exactly did he say?" Maybe there was some tidbit of information Lee had overlooked.

"Too damn little. He just keeps talking in circles, repeating that we have to wait. He won't say so, but I know gunshot wounds like hers are usually. . . I don't think he expected her to. . . " He took another deep breath. "I think he's surprised that she's still alive."

"Then he doesn't know our Amanda very well, does he?"

His looked up then, rewarding me with a truly genuine smile this time, one that lit up the whole room. "No, I guess he doesn't."

He glanced down at his watch. "Why don't we head back? It's been almost forty-five minutes, maybe they'll let us back in to see her. They only allow one visitor," he explained sadly, "for fifteen minutes, on the hour."

"Then you go on," I told him, smiling warmly at the look of gratitude on his face. As badly as he needed to be with Amanda, he would have let me go to her instead.

"Will you be okay?"

"I'll be fine." I gave his hand another squeeze. "Go on – I'm just going to sit here and finish my coffee, then I'll join you."

"I'll meet you in the waiting area down the hall from her room," he told me, his chair making a scraping sound as he rose. He turned to go, then stopped for a minute to look back at me. "Thanks, Dotty."

As I watched him head for the door, I realized it was the first time he hadn't called me 'Mrs. West'.

* * *

We spent most of the night in that small alcove that served as the waiting room, waiting for the minutes to tick by so we could see Amanda again. We took turns visiting. Her condition remained unchanged, but I supposed it was the best news we could hope for right now.

I was worried about my grandsons. I had talked briefly with Joe after my arrival to give him an update on Amanda's condition. It was late here and even later in Virginia, but Joe had made me promise to call. The boys were holding up, he told me, but were very quiet. Especially Jamie. The PTA mothers at their school were organizing some dinners for them. Carrie, his fiancée, had been over as well. He told me not to worry about the home front, to just concentrate on Amanda. But I could hear the anxiety in his voice.

Toward morning, I caught Lee looking at his watch. He cleared his throat a few times, as if he wanted to say something, but then thought better of it. It was obvious that he couldn't sit still much longer. I had the feeling that waiting was not Lee Stetson's strong suit.

I sent him off to get some sleep, and this time he agreed without any argument. I knew then how badly he needed to escape the atmosphere here. I hoped he would finally be able to rest.

I dozed now and then, but I couldn't make myself leave the hospital. Dr. Neely tried to convince me to go to the hotel, but I steadfastly refused. I couldn't leave my baby. I'd been with her when she came into this world and if she was going to leave it. . . well, I'd be with her then, too. I was her mother.

Somehow the time passed. Lee checked in every few hours, but I had nothing to tell him. Amanda was still holding her own, but Dr. Neely stubbornly refused to give me a definite prognosis, no matter how many times I inquired. Lee tried to hide his disappointment, but I understood how he felt. I longed to be able to tell him that Amanda was awake, looking more beautiful than ever, but we'd both just have to wait a little longer for that to happen.

The last time we spoke, he told me he was on his way. I was just thinking that maybe I'd go grab a little sleep once he arrived, when it happened. The floor suddenly sprang to life - a flurry of carts, medical personnel everywhere, and all the while, that awful monotone hum sounding in the background.

The loudspeakers shouted the news, "Code blue, room 346C," and all I could think about was Amanda at five years old, bravely letting go of my hand as I left her at school for the first time and marching boldly through the door alone.

I met Lee in the corridor as the emergency equipment rushed by us. "Lee," I gasped, "it's Amanda." We both hovered helplessly outside her door.

"Where's that bicarb?" I heard Dr. Neely ask tersely.

"Right here, Doctor," came the nurse's calm reply.

He muttered something in response, but my mind couldn't grasp the words.

"You'd better stay here," Lee warned me, taking hold of my arms as I tried to enter the room.

"No," I told him firmly, laying a restraining hand on his chest. "No." I couldn't just stand out in the hall while Amanda slipped away from us. I needed to be by my daughter's side, to will her back to life if necessary.

He seemed to understand. We both cautiously entered the room, my clenched fist automatically flying to my mouth as I watched the scene play out.

As soon as Dr. Neely saw us, he immediately blocked our way. "Mr. Stetson," he said firmly, including both of us in his gaze. "You can't help us save her life, but if you get in the way, you will help us lose it. Now get out of here," he finished a little more harshly. "Now!"

It felt as if my own heart had stopped beating as the full meaning of his words hit me. Amanda could die. . . was dying. And there was nothing either one of us could do to stop it.

* * *

"What's taking them so long?" I asked, my hand drumming on the arm of the chair. "Why won't they tell us something – anything? I just don't understand doctors." It had been forty-five interminably long minutes since we'd been relegated to the waiting room.

"I don't know," Lee answered grimly, leaning back against the small sofa. "But I'm sure if she was. . . if it was bad news, we would have heard by now." He closed his eyes, his hands clasped together, absently rubbing the fingers of his left hand with his thumb.

"You're right," I agreed, reaching for my half finished cup of coffee. It was cold, but I drank it anyway. "I guess we just have to look for the silver lining."

He looked at me and smiled. "Yeah, I guess we do. She's gonna be all right, Dotty. She has to be."

We both fell silent again, lost in our own thoughts of Amanda. I somehow felt better knowing Lee was beside me, that we both shared a common bond. I was beginning to understand what it was about him that my daughter found so attractive. It was more than just his looks, which were definitely above average. But there was something else, an indefinable quality that I couldn't put my finger on. A quiet strength mixed with an endearing vulnerability that he kept carefully hidden from the world. I suspected he was a very complex man.

We were both sipping that awful hospital brew again when Dr. Neely finally entered the room. We jumped to our feet, and Lee immediately put a strong arm around me. I prepared myself for the worst.

"We almost lost her," he announced solemnly, "but she didn't give up for a second."

"Ohh," I sighed, leaning against Lee for support. He tightened his hold, and I could feel the tension in every muscle of his body. Despite our positive words to the contrary, I think we'd both believed she was dead.

"She's holding on," the doctor continued, "so we're back where we started. With still a long ways to go." His words were full of caution, and I knew we weren't out of the woods yet. But the underbrush had just gotten a lot thinner. I gave him a grateful smile.

"The woman's a fighter," he replied in wonderment. I nodded my agreement as he added with a cautious smile, "That's good."

"Thank you," Lee murmured as the doctor left us alone. I turned to look at him. His eyes were still a little clouded, but I could sense that his relief equaled mine. "Oh, boy," was all I could say, shaking my head as I thought about how close we'd come to losing her.

"I know what you mean," he said, letting out a deep sigh. We both collapsed back down on the sofa.

"Lee," I said, taking a careful look at him. The dark circles under his eyes told me he'd passed exhaustion long ago. "When's the last time you had some decent sleep? In a bed, I mean. And don't lie to me now," I added, as I could see he was on the verge of telling me he was fine.

"I don't know, a few days ago, I guess," he admitted, a wistful look on his face.

"You have to get some rest. You won't do Amanda any good if you end up in the hospital, too."

"I will get some rest," he said intractably. "As soon as she wakes up and tells me she's gonna be okay."

"You're just as stubborn as my daughter," I grinned, marveling that the two of them had ever gotten together in the first place.

"No, Dotty, that's not possible," he replied, the sparkle suddenly back in his eye. "No one is as stubborn as your daughter."

"That's true," I agreed with a laugh. "Amanda always had a mind of her own - even when she was a little girl. I remember when she was only four years old, she refused to eat anything but rice for a solid month. She nearly drove me crazy."

Lee smiled, and I eyed him closely. "So, what were you like at four years old?" I asked, returning his smile.

"My parents were killed in a car accident when I was four," he said in a quiet voice.

"Oh, Lee, I'm so sorry," I said quickly, trying to remove my foot from my mouth. "I didn't mean to pry."

"It's okay," he said, squeezing my arm. "I don't mind telling you."

I had the feeling that he didn't normally confide such things, but I guessed the experience we'd just been through had brought us closer. "Who raised you then?" I inquired. I realized how little I really knew about this man who'd become such a big part of Amanda's life.

"My uncle. He's in the Air Force, so I kinda grew up all over the place. Greenland, Guam, Germany. . . you name it, I lived there."

"That must have been hard on you, always moving like that."

"I survived," he replied in a low voice, and I wondered what he wasn't saying. Children shouldn't be dragged all over the world; they needed a home and stability. Amanda had been right about that. I realized with a start that Lee needed some good old-fashioned mothering even more desperately than I'd previously suspected. I had the impression that this man sitting beside me was very good at hiding his pain.

He reached for his coffee, absently taking a sip. "Ugh, that's cold. I think I'll get another cup."

I turned to say something, but he'd already disappeared around the corner. He was even better at evasion than my daughter. I could see I had my work cut out for me.

He reappeared a few minutes later with coffee for both of us, and I smiled my thanks as he placed the cups on the small table. I wanted to continue our conversation, but I had the distinct feeling that Mr. Stetson had bared his soul more than enough for one day.

"I saw Dr. Neely," he said quickly, deftly changing the subject. "They have to run a few more tests, but he said we could see Amanda as soon as they finished."

"Good. I want to check for myself that she's okay. I mean, I believe them, they wouldn't lie about a thing like that, but I really need to see her with my own eyes. Just to make sure."

"I know." He ran his hand through his hair, something he seemed to do quite often when he had something on his mind. "After that," he said in a tired voice, "maybe we should both take Dr. Neely's advice and get out of here for a while. There's nothing else we can do tonight."

I knew he was right, but I still hated to leave. If Amanda had another crisis. . . no, I wouldn't think that way. She would be okay. I looked over at Lee. Yes, she would be more than okay. My daughter had too much to live for to give up now.

* * *

It was sometime after three a.m. when Lee finally dropped me at my hotel. I stretched out on the bed, intending to lie down for only for a few minutes before getting into a nice hot bath. My mind still felt too anxious to rest, but my body evidently had other ideas. I was asleep almost before my head hit the pillow.

It was not quite ten o'clock when I finally awoke. I read the clock with a mixture of shock and guilt. I never slept that late. Upset at leaving Amanda alone for so long, I showered quickly and hurried back to the hospital.

The nurses informed me with a smile that the remainder of the night had been uneventful. And Amanda's vital signs appeared a bit stronger this morning. A very good sign, they all assured me.

I was beginning to catch a faint glimmer of hope in their words - as if she'd passed some impossibly difficult final exam and now was just waiting to collect her 'A'. Her color did look a little better, I thought happily. I settled into my customary perch beside her bed.

I talked to her in a quiet voice, filling her in on all the news from home. That Joe was taking good care of the boys, so she didn't have to worry. About Phillip's hot date last Saturday with the exceptional Nancy, all of Jamie's plans for this year's science fair. Joe said that Mr. Pietry had even fixed that awful doorbell, I informed her with a laugh – with only minimal damage to our liquor cabinet.

I told her that it was time to wake up. We'd been very patient, Lee and I – but it was way past time. "And I think that man is going to go out of his mind if you don't sit up and talk to him soon," I added in a low voice. "He puts on a pretty good show, but he's not fooling me. He needs you, Amanda. So you hurry up and come back to us. To him."

I was standing up, stretching the kinks out of my back when I heard it - a low, guttural sound, more a moan than a word.

"Lee. . ."

"Amanda?" I turned to her, my eyes filling with tears. "Darling, it's Mother. I'm right here."

"Ummm," she groaned again. Her eyes blinked as she tried to focus. "Mother? What. . . where. . ."

"There was an accident, Darling," I told her soothingly. She was a little disoriented; it was hard to tell if she was fully conscious or just floating on the edge. "You're in the hospital."

"Where's Lee?" she asked, her eyes drifting shut once more. "I want him."

"He'll be here soon. Don't try to talk. I'm going to get the doctor." I turned toward the door, but Dr. Neely was already in the room, the monitors evidently alerting him to Amanda's changing condition.

"Well, Mrs. King," he said with a relieved smile, "I see you've decided to join us."

"Umm," she murmured again, even that small sound a huge effort.

Dr. Neely asked me leave while he examined her, and I readily complied. I staggered into the hall, leaning against the wall, weak from relief while I waited for the verdict. I knew without a shadow of a doubt that this time, the news would be good.

After what seemed like an eternity, he reappeared in the hall.

"Oh, Doctor." I smiled through the tears that were streaming down my face. "She is going to be all right." It was more a statement than a question.

"It's going to take some time and rest," he smiled in response, "but I think I can promise that Mrs. King is going to be okay." The man's face told it all - we had our miracle. Amanda was back.

"How can I ever thank you?" I gasped, gripping his hand as I pumped his arm up and down enthusiastically.

"Believe me, in this case, being able to deliver good news is thanks enough." He cleared his throat, retrieving his captive hand. "She's asking for Mr. Stetson again, so I've sent the nurse to track him down. We've taken her off the oxygen and if all goes well, we'll probably be moving her to a regular room sometime tonight or at the latest tomorrow. You're welcome to go back in," he added, heading off my question. "She'll probably sleep most of the day, but I think it will do her good to see a familiar face when she wakes up."

He smiled one last time before heading off down the hall. I took a few deeply relieved breaths, something I'd been almost afraid to do in the past few days. "Ohh," I sighed to myself, happy tears flowing again.

I cautiously entered her room, tip toeing to the bed so I wouldn't disturb her. She appeared to be sleeping again, thoroughly exhausted from the effort of waking. The room still echoed the steady 'beep-beep' of that infernal monitor, but I was glad to see they'd removed that awful oxygen tent. I reached out and brushed my hand softly across her forehead.

"Lee," she murmured again, then drifted back to sleep. I watched her lying there, watched the peaceful rise and fall of her chest. From the look on her face, her dreams were all pleasant. And I had a pretty good idea who was starring in them.

The simple truth was plain to anyone with eyes. She couldn't hide it any longer. My daughter loved Lee Stetson every bit as much as he loved her.

* * *

There was a commotion in the hall and I heard voices outside Amanda's door.

I'd just been speculating on whether Amanda would want another big wedding when Dr. Neely's words broke through my pleasant daydream. "I wanted you here, you made good time."

"Get out of my way, I'm goin' in there," Lee stated in no uncertain terms. I walked to the door, anxious to tell him the good news myself.

Dr. Neely beat me to it. "Of course you are," he responded, a hint of tolerant good humor in his voice. "A little TLC is. . ."

"Doc. . ." Lee interrupted, his patience spent.

". . .Just what the doctor ordered for a quick recovery," the surgeon finished emphatically.

I burst through the door and, unable to stop myself, I threw my arms around Dr. Neely's neck. "Ohh, she's going to be all right," I said for the umpteenth time that morning. "I told you so." The words literally poured out of me, I couldn't seem to stop them.

"Oh, Lee," I cried, turning to him. "You oughtta see her, she looks beautiful!"

"Yeah," he answered somewhat breathlessly, his focus on Amanda, waiting for him just beyond the door.

I smiled knowingly and let him pass, concentrating my enthusiasm again on her savior Dr. Neely. "Oh," I exclaimed, catching my breath, "I'm going to tell you something. After a few weeks in bed, I'm going to have her hopping around like nothing ever happened. Oh, Dr. Neely, she's going to be as good as new!"

I took his arm and we started down the hall while I continued to enumerate my plans for Amanda's convalescence. He smiled benignly, as if my behavior was the most natural thing in the world. Maybe it was. In his profession, unbridled gratitude was probably a daily occurrence.

We parted company at the pay phone. I realized with a pang of remorse that Joe and the boys hadn't heard the good news. I checked my watch. Three hours later in Virginia. My grandsons should be just getting home from school by now.

Jamie answered on the third ring. "Hello, sweetheart, it's Grandma."

"Hi, Grandma." His voice sounded flat, unemotional. He must have been out of his mind with worry over his mother. I was more than glad to be the bearer of such happy tidings.

"I have really good news for you, darling," I told him enthusiastically. "Your mom's going to be just fine."

"That's good," he replied in the same monotone.

It certainly wasn't the response I'd anticipated. Jamie acted as if I'd just given him the weather report.

"Is that Grandma on the phone?" I heard Phillip ask. "How's Mom? What did she say?" Now Phillip sounded exactly the way I expected him to.

"She said Mom's going to be okay," I heard Jamie hiss to his brother. "Leave me alone."

"Woo hoo," came Phillip's enthusiastic response. "Hey, Dad," he yelled, "Mom's gonna be okay. Give me the phone, Worm Brain, I want to talk to Grandma."

"Cut it out," came the muffled response. There was a loud bang in my ear and the sounds of a scuffle, then Joe's strong voice came through loud and clear.

"Dotty?" he asked, the relief evident in his voice. "Amanda's out of danger?"

"Yes, she's. . ." The altercation began again and he momentarily excused himself. I could hear yelling in the background, Joe's stern tones, then suddenly everything was silent.

"I'm sorry, Dotty," he sighed when he finally came back on the line. "You were saying?"

"Joe," I asked, "what on earth is going on there? And why are you home at three-thirty?" Joe King never left the office in the middle of the day without good reason. Something was definitely amiss. "Is Jamie all right?"

"He's okay, but he's had a pretty rough few days, so I thought I'd try to be here when he got home today. There was some incident at school. . ."

"Incident? What kind of incident? What happened?"

"Some silly fight with one of his friends that got a little out of hand. We're dealing with it. Carrie is going to talk to him."

I wasn't sure exactly what Joe thought his fiancée of one month could accomplish, but I held my peace. I was too relieved about Amanda's prognosis to debate this now.

"Really, Dotty," he continued reassuringly, "don't worry about this. You have enough to handle. Tell me how Amanda's doing."

"Oh, Joe, she's doing wonderfully," I began, warming to my subject. "The doctor said she's out of danger. He expects a full recovery."

"Well, that is good news. I know the boys will be very relieved. They've both been worried – actually, we've all been worried. Amanda is very special."

"Yes, she is," I agreed. "But Joe – I'm a little concerned about Jamie."

"He'll be fine. Just some growing pains, I think." I heard his tired sigh. "He and Phillip have been at each other's throats. I think they've just been so worried about their mother – I'm sure things will ease up once they can talk to her. Is she awake or. . ."

"She's still in intensive care, but she should be moved tonight or tomorrow. I'm sure she'll want to talk to the boys as soon as she's able. Lee's with her now. . ." I bit my tongue. I hadn't meant to bring that up - it had just slipped out. I took a deep breath, unsure of my ground here.

"Dotty," he asked, his voice suddenly brusque. "You never did tell me how this happened."

Something in his tone sent up warning flags. Joe's anger seemed a tad inappropriate. Surely he couldn't be implying that Amanda would be in any danger from Lee?

"It was an accident, Joe," I answered, slowly and plainly so he couldn't mistake my words. "It was simply a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"She wasn't working, was she?"

"Working? No, I told you, she took this trip for some rest and relaxation." Joe's questions were starting to annoy me.

"Well, Lee Stetson was there," he said truculently, as if that in itself was explanation enough.

This conversation was becoming stickier and stickier. I took a deep breath, trying decide exactly what to say to my ex son-in law. I'd always been a firm believer in honesty being the best policy, but it wasn't my place to tell him about Amanda and Lee. It really wasn't any of his business. Joe King may have been the father of my grandchildren, but that didn't necessarily give him license to butt into my daughter's personal life.

I was on the verge of telling him exactly that when he abruptly changed course, his tone conciliatory again. "Tell Amanda the boys send their love and that our prayers are with her. We'll all be waiting for her call."

He ended the conversation before I could reply. How did things ever get so complicated?

* * *

I walked down the hallway to Amanda's room, smiling a greeting as I passed the nurses' station. After almost three weeks here, Community Hospital's west wing staff had become our second family. I think they understood that Amanda's recovery was nothing short of miraculous and in some small way wanted to share in our joy. Everyone loves a happy ending.

As wonderful as they'd made our stay, I knew Amanda was as anxious as I was to bid this place farewell. Comfortable or not, this was a hospital, not home. I wouldn't be able to really relax until she was back where she belonged, safe and sound under our own roof on Maplewood Drive.

She still had a ways to go before that would happen, though. Her speedy recovery had absolutely astounded Dr. Neely and the staff, so much so that he had promised to release her from the hospital in the next few days. But he still adamantly refused to allow her to travel for at least another week.

I myself would be en route to Virginia in just a few more hours, while tonight Lee would be flying in the opposite direction, heading back to California and Amanda. Much to his frustration, he'd been recalled to work ten days ago to deal with some sort of distribution emergency concerning their latest project. He'd tried to find someone else to cover it, but evidently Doc somebody or other, the head honcho at IFF, had been quite insistent. He'd had no choice but to return.

I stopped in front of Amanda's room, shifting my small suitcase and the cumbersome plant I was carrying to my other hand. I was about to push open her door, when the sound of her voice stopped me. "Yeah, I know, I feel the same way." I hesitated, not wanting to intrude as I heard her continue. "It's just been hard, that's all. This isn't the way it was supposed to be."

I could tell by her tone that she was talking to Lee. Whenever she spoke to him, her voice took on this tender little quality. It was probably something only a mother would notice. I actually found it quite touching.

I started to back away, intending to give her some privacy, when her impassioned response pricked my ears. "Lee, I wish you wouldn't say that. What happened was an accident. Nobody blames you." She was silent for a moment, then added, "Well, that's his particular problem, then. It's my fault, I should have told him that day we had lunch, but he was so caught up in his news about Carrie that I didn't know how to start."

This was about Joe, then, I thought, shaking my head as I let the door swing closed. He still seemed to be having a difficult time with Amanda and Lee's relationship, something I found a little puzzling since the man was getting married in July. I guess old bonds were the hardest to break. Perhaps I could help smooth the waters when I got home.

As much as I hated to leave her, I knew Amanda would be happy to have Lee take my place. Their goodbye hadn't been easy, I suspected - for either one of them. Actually, I'd hated to see him leave myself. Lee Stetson had a knack for taking my daughter's mind off the physical pain of her recovery. He had us both in stitches one night, his lively tale about his escapades in Europe taking more twists and turns than my current adventure novel. Apparently the documentary film business was much more intriguing than I'd imagined.

For my own part, I enjoyed watching the two of them together. They didn't seem to need to communicate in words, instead understanding almost instinctively what the other was feeling. Amanda tried to tell me it was because they'd worked together for so long, but the connection between them had nothing to do with any job. It was very special, and stronger than anything I'd ever seen between my daughter and Joe. For almost ten years, I'd watched her put her own needs second. Unlike that one-dimensional relationship, she and Lee seemed to have a real partnership. In many ways, it reminded me of what I'd known with her father.

My arm began to tire, and I shifted my burden again. I decided I'd rather interrupt Amanda than risk the wrath of the nurses who would have to clean up the debris if this plant fell on the floor. I knocked loudly to announce my arrival, clearing my throat as I entered.

"I'll see you tonight then," I heard her finish as she smiled, motioning me into the room. "Yeah. I do, too. Bye."

"Everything okay in D.C.?" I inquired, dropping my suitcase by the door and depositing the planter on the window ledge.

"Yeah. Lee will be here tonight," she told me, settling back down into the pillow.

"That's good," I answered, checking the soil to see if the plant was dry. "I was afraid he might get stuck at work again," I finished, a bit distracted by the state of neglect I discovered. I never understood why flower shops couldn't simply water a plant before they delivered it.

"Actually, he has a short term assignment for IFF out here, so there's no danger he'll have to leave again. He'll be able to stay until I can fly home." She smiled and closed her eyes, evidently savoring some thoughts too secret to share. I left her to them, filling the water jug in the bathroom and giving our latest acquisition a drink.

"Who's that one from?" she asked, grimacing a little as she shifted position.

"It's from the Soccer Moms, 'wishing you a speeding recovery'." I glanced over at her as I read the card. She appeared to be suffering a moderate amount of discomfort today. Dr. Neely had assured us that it was to be expected and would fade with time.

"That was nice of them," she responded automatically, and I had a sneaking suspicion that her mind was still focused on that phone call. "I can't believe all the people who've sent their support."

"Well, any more well wishers, and we'll be able to open our own shop. Although," I added wryly, "the deliveries should slow down a bit once Lee arrives. I'm sure the shopkeepers in D.C. will be sorry to see him go."

"He has been a little over enthusiastic," she laughed, shaking her head she ruefully surveyed the room. "I think he felt guilty that he had to go back to work."

"That man is head over heels in love with you, Darling," I teased, "and you have an extensive assortment of exotic greenery to prove it."

She treated me to that wonderful laugh of hers again. Only a short time ago, I'd worried that I might never hear it again. It's amazing how quickly the balance of life can shift.

"So," I asked, relaxing into the chair beside her bed. "Joe still being Joe? I couldn't help overhearing," I said contritely as I noticed the beginnings of a frown.

"Yes," she sighed, her lips pursed together in that way she had when she was troubled. "Lee stopped by the house to pick up some things for me, and I guess he gave him a hard time. Jamie, too." She wrinkled her nose. "I can handle Joe, but I'm at a loss as to what to do about Jamie. With his father's new life and now this – his world's kind of been turned upside down."

"Yes, change has a way of doing that sometimes," I agreed, giving her hand a comforting pat. "He just needs a little patience and understanding."

"He's barely said two words to me on the phone."

"He's been concerned about you, darling," I reassured her. "And sometimes, worry wears a funny face. Especially when you're twelve years old."

"I guess so," she answered sadly.

"Of course, the good thing about being twelve is the innate ability to bounce back quickly. He'll snap out of it, wait and see, and then," I grinned, "you'll wish you could get him to stop yakking."

"Speaking of bouncing back," she said, clenching her teeth as she swung her feet over the side of the bed, "Could you give me a hand? I need to do another lap before Dr. Neely gets here if I want to convince him I'm ready to be sprung from this place."

I nodded, handing her the pink robe. I watched as she set her jaw in a dogged grin, willing her discomfort to the background.

I had to admire her determination. When Amanda decided to do something, there wasn't anything she couldn't accomplish. Her recuperative efforts these past two weeks had certainly paid off. Even though she still seemed a little weak, she was getting around much better with each passing day.

We headed into the hall, beginning our daily ritual with slow, deliberate steps. "If you keep this up, you'll be out of here in no time," I praised, watching proudly as she accepted the smiles of encouragement from people who passed by.

"The sooner the better."

"And you're certain staying at Mr. Dorsey's is a good idea?" I was still a little worried about the plan. I would have preferred the convalescent hospital I'd found across town, but Lee's friend had insisted that he could make her more than comfortable.

"Oh, Mother, I'm so tired of hospitals," she sighed. "I'll be fine at Barney's. Besides, he has enough room for Lee, too."

He did have a very nice apartment with a spectacular view of the ocean. And if there was a better cook, I hadn't met one. He'd treated me to one of his special dinners just the other night. At the very least, his culinary delights might be able to get some meat back on my daughter's bones. I could feel her ribs where my hand rested just above her waist.

"I guess it should be fine," I agreed, adding knowingly, "especially the part about having Lee there."

"Mother. . ."

"Amanda, it's all right," I reassured her, struggling to hold in my grin. "I'm really not that easily shocked you, know."

She concentrated on the floor as if her eyes were somehow connected to her feet. I knew I'd managed to embarrass her. I didn't understand my daughter sometimes. She was behaving like a teenager who'd been caught necking on the couch. My goodness, she was a grown woman and entitled to a little happiness.

"Amanda," I began again, determined to clear the air. "You don't have to be self-conscious about this. I've had some romantic getaways of my own, you know. It's not that hard to understand."

I continued on, ignoring the pained look she gave me. "Remember that lovely long weekend with Hunter? We had the most wonderful time. . ."

"Oh, Mother," she moaned, looking exactly like Jamie when he rolled his eyes at his brother. "I really can't discuss Daddy's friend Mr. Conrad with you."

"And why not?" I laughed. "We're both over twenty-one. And Hunter really was a very attractive man, especially for his age."

"Ohhh. . ." She shook her head, making that exasperated little sound again. I noticed that we'd made it halfway around the hall and she was still going strong. Nothing like a little honesty to get the old adrenalin flowing, I thought with a grin.

"I know we haven't discussed the fact that you and Lee were out here together," I continued, deciding to lay all my cards on the table while I had the opportunity. "But I think we should just get this right out in the open. They say that truth will cleanse the soul, and the truth of this particular situation is that the two of you love each other. Don't deny it," I added, seeing her begin to form the usual protest, "it's as plain as the nose on your face."

"I can't deny it," she said at last. "I do love Lee, very much."

"And when the two of you are married. . ."

"Mother," she said firmly, pulling away and walking on her own. "You've been trying to marry me off ever since my divorce. Please, let's not go down that path again."

"Amanda Jean West, are you going to stand there and tell me that you don't want to marry Lee? Because," I told her emphatically, "I'm simply not going to believe that."

"I didn't say that," she countered, grasping my arm to steady herself. "It's just that sometimes things are more complicated than they seem."

"What's so complicated? You love each other. It doesn't get any simpler than that."

"Love is simple," she sighed, absently twirling the tie on her robe, "life isn't."

"Amanda," I began, trying to decipher what she was trying to tell me.

"Lee and I need some more time to get things sorted out, that's all."

"You know I would never pressure you, dear. I trust you to know what's right." I put my arm around her again and gave her a little squeeze. "All I want is for you to be happy."

"I know you do," she said, a tiny catch in her voice. "I am happy. It's just. . ."

"It's just that you've been pushing yourself too hard. Nothing looks good through tired eyes. Come on," I said, guiding her down the hall, "Let's get you back to your room."

I expected an argument, but instead she only gave me grateful smile. I helped her settle into bed, pulling the covers up around her as I tucked her in. I adjusted the bedrails so she wouldn't fall out then stepped back, taking a long look at her sweet face. She seemed so young and vulnerable lying there, just as she had when she was three. A tiny little girl sleeping in her big bed for the first time. The only thing missing from the picture was her beloved doll, Lois Ann.

"Mother." She caught my eye, as if wanting to confide her secrets, the same way she did when she was little. Then, just as quickly, glanced away, saying only, "Thank you."

"For what, darling?" I asked in concern. Her voice spoke of her weariness and something else I couldn't quite decipher.

"For everything."

"You don't have to thank me. I love you, Amanda, you know that, there is nowhere else I would be."

"Not just for being here now," she said quietly, reaching out to take my hand. "For the past five years, too. I know I don't tell you very often, but it's meant a lot –to me and to the boys. I just wanted you to know that."

"Of course I know that." I looked at her closely, wondering a little at her mood. "Amanda, are you okay?"

"Yeah," she said, taking a deep breath. "I guess I'm just feeling a little emotional. I can't explain it. Sometimes events just move so fast and you get all caught up in them. You find yourself doing things you wouldn't have dreamed of in other circumstances. Things you realize later will hurt the people you love. But you have to do them anyway, you know? You can't stop."

She looked as if she was going to cry. "Darling, you're talking nonsense. You would never deliberately hurt anyone. You're just tired - you've been pushing yourself too hard to get back on your feet." I sighed, reaching out to smooth her forehead. "I think a little rest and relaxation in the California sun is going to be just what the doctor ordered."

"Maybe."

"Now," I said, glancing at my watch, "I've got to get to the airport or I'm going to miss my plane. You close your eyes and get some rest. Before you know it, Lee will be here and everything will look different."

"Okay," she agreed, giving in to her fatigue. "Give the boys a big kiss for me and tell them I'll see them soon."

"I promise. And you do the same to Lee. But I guess I don't have to tell you to do that, do I?" I laughed.

"No, you don't," she answered, a smile back on her face.

I grabbed my suitcase, pausing at the door for one last look. Amanda's eyes were closed, her anxiety dissipating as she surrendered to sleep. I told myself not to worry, that everything would be fine as soon as Lee arrived.

My head was down as I left the room, adjusting the tote strap on my suitcase, so I didn't see the man until it was too late.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," I apologized, a little guilty for almost slamming him in the face with the door.

"No harm done, ma'am," he replied gallantly. "I'm looking for Amanda's room?"

He was an older gentleman, a little on the heavy side. From his attire, I guessed he was someone who spent a lot of time by the ocean. "Well, you've found it," I joked. "I'm her mother, Dotty West."

"Pleased to meet you, ma'am. I'm Gus Weinstein, a friend of Barney Dorsey's."

"Oh, yes, Mr. Weinstein. I believe Barney's spoken of you." Actually, the man's name didn't ring a bell, but it seemed like the gracious thing to say. "I'm afraid Amanda's sleeping right now, but I'm sure she'd love a visit when she wakes up."

"Oh, that's all right, I won't disturb her. I just wanted to check out for myself that she was okay."

"She's just fine," I smiled, touched by the concern of an almost total stranger for my daughter. I checked my watch again, making a move toward the elevator. I didn't want to miss my flight. "I was just on my way to the airport, Mr. Weinstein. "

"I'll walk out with you then, if you don't mind. Actually, I'm leaving myself later tonight - off to visit my son and his family. I'm just getting out of the hospital myself."

"Oh?" I enquired, more out of politeness than interest. "Nothing serious, I hope."

"Actually, I had a pretty close call with some carbon monoxide poisoning."

"I'm sorry to hear it," I answered absently, my mind already on the trip home. "I guess you can never be too careful with things like that. They say twenty-five percent of all accidents happen in the home."

"Oh, this was no accident," he said, shaking his head in disgust as we left the hospital. He graciously hailed me a cab. "That whole Bodega business turned out to be a lot more than any of us bargained for."

"Um, yes," I said, frowning a little. I had no idea what this man was talking about.

"That's why I felt so bad about what happened," he continued, oblivious to my confusion. "Lee and Amanda are such a nice young couple, and I kinda felt responsible."

"Responsible?"

The cab pulled up and he opened the door, handing my suitcase to the driver. "You know, for her being shot and ruining their honeymoon like that and all."

He smiled, held the door open, and politely assisted me inside. "Well, please tell them I wish them every happiness."

The cab pulled away from the curb. I sat very still, staring out the window until Mr. Weinstein became a small dot on a blurred horizon. Then very slowly, I turned around.

The most inconsequential things suddenly seemed important. I studied the drivers picture, watched the numbers change on the counter that recorded the fare, traced a small tear in the seat's upholstery with my finger. The cabbie really should do something about that. One small little tear like that can turn into a gaping hole that can't be repaired. I slid my finger between the vinyl and the cotton stuffing. Mr. Weinstein must have been mistaken, I told myself emphatically. This was only a vacation, nothing more. My daughter didn't lie. She'd always told me truth.

Always.

I heard a telltale ripping sound as that tiny perforation in the seat became wider. I remembered Amanda standing in her bedroom, solemnly assuring me that she had absolutely no idea where her best friend Debbie Ann McCabey could be. And all the time, the girl was sitting in the attic just one floor above my head, while her parents and the police frantically scoured the town. If I'd only had eyes to see.

But that was long ago. Why, she hadn't been much older than Phillip at the time. This was different - she was an adult now. Surely my daughter wouldn't hide something like this from me?

I toyed with the frayed edges of the seat, trying to ignore that nagging little voice in the back of my head. Amanda hadn't really confided in me in a long time, it told me - and certainly not in the last few years. I had a sudden picture of her dashing out the door as she tossed off another excuse. Vague stories about class reunions and some mysterious club I didn't even know she'd joined. Trips to the drug store that seemed to take all day, not to mention all those unexplained emergency sprayings by the termite man. And where had she been those times she'd packed us off to visit the relatives? I mean, that ridiculous story about saving Washington from a bomb was just too outlandish to be believed.

I felt the balance of life shift again; I could no longer tell what was true and what was a lie. Or maybe the emotional upheaval of the last few weeks suddenly cast a clearer light so that things I'd always overlooked now made perfect sense. Lee's evasive answers when I'd questioned him about signing the permission forms for the surgery, Amanda's obvious distress earlier when I'd broached the subject of marriage. It had been there all along, right in front of me, as plain as. . . as the unspoken promise in both their eyes whenever they looked at each other.

I suddenly knew without a doubt that Mr. Gus Weinstein had been telling the truth.

But why all the secrecy? Why would Amanda tell a stranger about her marriage and not her own mother? We were so close, weren't we? At least, I'd always thought. . . I drew a deep breath, then slowly let it out. Maybe, I realized sadly, maybe I didn't really know my daughter at all.

No, I couldn't accept that. There must be an explanation for this, I reasoned, something I just couldn't understand right now. Maybe she'd intended to tell me, then all of this had happened - the shooting, her surgery, a slow recovery ahead – and she didn't know how. She really wasn't herself at the moment. After all, she had almost died.

Maybe it was Lee. Maybe he didn't want a big wedding. With his background, I could understand that an instant family might be a little overwhelming. Still. . .

The cab came to a stop in front of the terminal. I quickly handed the driver some bills, retrieved my suitcase and headed inside. Numbly, I checked the departure information. My flight was on time; they were even boarding. Putting one foot in front of the other, I marched to the gate, handed my ticket to the agent and slowly made my way down the plane's narrow aisle. Automatically stowing my luggage, I settled into the cramped seat, resting my head against the small oval window. In a few short hours I would be back on familiar ground. Maybe then everything would make sense.

I took another deep breath, remembering how I'd felt at the beginning of this journey, not knowing if Amanda would live or die. Now, that was the one thing I did know for certain. And the rest – well, the rest we would just have to sort out in time.

The plane began its taxi down the runway, and I closed my eyes. Amanda was my only child; she would tell me the truth. I just needed to give her the chance. Until then. . . well, I could keep a secret, too.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

To be continued in Part Three by… "Jamie"