Part V

Monday, April 29, 1985

A sharp rapping on the hospital door caused Amanda to look up from her book.  "Come in!" she called.

The door opened slightly and Lee stuck his head in the door.  "Hi.  Can I come in?"

Amanda smiled brilliantly at him.  "Sure.  I was hoping you got my message and that you'd stop by this morning."  As Lee pushed open the door, Amanda's eyes grew wide and she gasped, "Oh my gosh . . ."

Lee grinned happily at her expression as he carefully set the huge arrangement of brilliant yellow sunflowers on the table next to the bed.  "You like them?  They're a get well gift." 

"But, Lee, you've already given me a get well gift.  In fact, you've bought me something every time you've come to see me.  You don't have to keep doing this."  She stared at the flowers for a moment longer and then looked up at him, still wide-eyed.  "But where did you get them?  It's way too early for sunflowers."

He grinned devilishly at her.  "I have my sources.  So you do like them."  He sounded decidedly pleased.

"I love them!"  She reached out a hand and when he took it, she squeezed his tightly.  "Thank you."

"You're welcome."  He sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at her seriously.  "How are you today?  You're looking better."

"Oh, I'm fine.  The doctor says that I can go home tomorrow."

"That's good.  How about your mother?"

"Well, she's still a little upset, but she'll be okay."  She grinned at him.  "I think she's not going to be pushing me quite so hard to date, though."

Lee smiled in relief.   "Well, that's good."  She looked at him questioningly, and he began to stutter, "A-about your mother, I mean.  Being okay . . . not pushing you to date.  Of course you'll want to date.  You aren't going to stay home all the time, or anything . . . are you?"

"Well, maybe for a while," she replied, trying to suppress a smile at the hopeful inflection in his voice.  Then she decided to change the subject.  "So, you never told me how you turned up at exactly the right place at the right time.  I thought you were supposed to be at a party."

"I was.  I ran into Adam Dwyer there."  He pulled something out of his pocket and dropped it into her hand.  "Carlyle's calling card.  He usually left it on his victims."

Amanda bowed her head, staring at the dolphin bracelet in silence.  Lee slid forward swiftly and put his arms around her as he saw her start to shake.  "I – I am s-s-such an idiot," she said with difficulty.

"You are not.  You believe in people until they give you a reason not to.  If you didn't, you wouldn't be the Amanda we all know and love."

"You weren't fooled."

"I'm an innately suspicious cynic.  Believe me, I'm paranoid enough for both of us."

Eventually, he felt the tremors in her body ease, and finally, she took a deep breath and looked up at him.

"Lee, about the other day.  I'm sorry . . ."

He shook his head swiftly, laying a finger across her lips to silence her.  "No.  I don't want to hear you say those words again.  You have nothing to be sorry for.  I'm the one who should apologize.  I was out of line for checking up on you and the men you date.  I have no excuse other than the fact that you're my friend and I worry about you."

"I worry about you, too," she replied.  "But, Lee, no matter what happened, it didn't give me the right to act the way I did.  If you had hit your head or something, you could have been hurt.  I don't know what got into me.  I'm really –"

"I said I didn't want to hear those words again and I meant it.  As for you shoving me away, I expect you to do it again if I ever manhandle you the way I did the other day.  In fact, feel free to smack me soundly."  He saw her about to protest and caught her chin, staring sternly into her eyes.  "I mean it, Amanda.  The only excuse I can offer is that I was just crazy with worry about you, that's all.  I hope you know that."

She smiled at him.  "Of course I do, Lee.  We were both just being silly and it got out of hand."

"Does that mean that you aren't going to quit, then?"  His look was pleading.

"No, I'm not going to quit," she replied, but her eyes dropped and she refused to look at him.

"What?" he demanded, sounding fearful.  When she didn't answer immediately, he caught her chin and forced her head up until she had to look at him.  "What aren't you telling me?"

"It's just . . . well . . . Mr. Melrose gave me some options to quitting . . ."

"What options?" he asked tersely, tension clear in his voice.

"He told me that I could request a transfer to another department . . ."

"You mean out of Field Section?" Lee demanded, sounding more and more upset.

"Yes.  Maybe down in crypto or human resources or research.  I think I'd probably be pretty good at research.  He also said that . . . well, if I wanted to . . . stay . . . in Field Section, I mean . . . that he would . . ."  She finally stumbled to a halt and tried to look away again, but he held her fast.

"That he would what?" he demanded sharply.

"Assign me a new partner."

He released her abruptly and surged to his feet, going to stare out of the window.  He wanted to take her by the shoulders and shake her again . . . to yell at her that she couldn't leave him . . . that he wouldn't be able to stand seeing her working with someone else.  But the memory of their earlier fight was still fresh enough in his mind to cause him to curb his initial reaction.  As he stared out at the brilliant April sunshine, some part of his mind noted the leaves on the branches of the tree outside her window.  It was springtime and life was being reborn in the world all around them.  Why, then, did he feel like some important part of him just died?  Uncomfortable silence gripped them for a long time.

"Is that what you want?" he finally asked without turning.

"I – I've been thinking that maybe it would be better."

Grief washed through him at her words and suddenly everything around him seemed to turn gray and lifeless.

"You have to do whatever you think is right, I guess," he heard himself reply, even though every fiber of his being continued to scream at him to protest as loudly as he could.

She was silent, evidently considering his response.  "Maybe I will," she finally replied, but some of the life seemed to have left her voice, as well.

He turned back to her then, intending to say that he had to go, but when he opened his mouth, what came out was, "Why?"

She looked up, startled by the unexpected question.  "Why what?"

"Why do you think it would be better?"

"I – I just thought that it would be . . . well . . . easier, you know.  If I had a new partner, then I wouldn't be your responsibility any more and you could . . . well . . . not worry about me."

He moved a few steps toward her, staring at her intently.  "Do you think that I would quit worrying about you simply because you changed partners?"

"You wouldn't have to worry any more.  It would be my new partner's responsibility to cover my back and you wouldn't have to do it."

"And you think that would be easier for me."

"Yes."

"It wouldn't, you know.  In fact, it would actually be a lot harder."

She stared at him in confusion.  "But you wouldn't –"

"Do you really think I worry about you because I have to?  Or because it's my responsibility to look after you in some way?  Do you honestly think I'm that shallow?"

"No, of course not!  I just meant –"

"Amanda, I worry about you because you ma–"  He stopped abruptly, looking flustered, and then changed what he had started to say.  " . . . because you're my friend.  As for it being easier?  I've lost too many friends and family members to be prepared to trust anyone else with the life of someone who means so much to me.  Maybe that's arrogant, but it's the way I feel.  I'd be a nervous wreck if I was forced into relying on someone else to ensure your safety.  I honestly don't trust anyone that much."  He sat down on the bed next to her again and took her hand.  "You're my partner and my friend, Amanda.  That's a fact . . . one that I've finally come to accept and to welcome."  He looked at her pleadingly.  "Please, don't walk away from our partnership . . . from me . . . because I acted like an idiot."

Her eyes were very bright as she squeezed his hand.  "All right.  If that's the way you really feel.  I don't want a new partner, anyway."

Lee let his breath out in a whoosh, only then becoming aware that he had been holding it, waiting for her answer.  After a long moment, Lee's eyes fell from her warm gaze and happy smile, and he cleared his throat, suddenly looking embarrassed.

"Well, I suppose I should go."  Lee grimaced.  "Francine's potluck is today and she has threatened violence if I don't show."

"Oh, that's right.  I almost forgot!"  Amanda gestured toward a basket sitting on the window ledge near the head of her bed.  "You need to take that with you.  That was the whole reason I called and asked you to stop by."

Lee picked up the basket and peered inside.  "Okay," he replied agreeably.  "What is it?"

"It's my dish for Francine's potluck."

Lee looked at Amanda in exasperation.  "A-man-da!  You're injured and still in the hospital.  You don't have to provide a dish for Francine's stupid potluck!"

"Well, I did promise that I would bring something.  Francine specifically asked me because she said she wanted something different.  I chose this from one of mother's recipes.  She made it for me last night and dropped it off after she'd taken the boys to school.

Lee eyed the basket again doubtfully.  "Didn't you tell me once that your mother likes to watch those gourmet cooking shows?  The ones with the really strange recipes?"

"Yes."

"What's this one?"

Amanda grinned.  "It's called Turnip, Rutabaga, and Beet Salad with Black Walnut Vinaigrette."

"What the hell are rutabagas?" Lee asked incredulously.

Amanda just laughed.  "It's exactly what Francine ordered . . . something different."  Then she gestured at him to lean in closer.  "But I'll tell you a secret," she whispered conspiratorially, "There's a poppy seed cake in there, too, so you won't have to worry about having something to eat . . ."

Lee blinked and then began to grin.  Finally he laughed out loud and leaned over to kiss her forehead gently.  "That's the Amanda we all know and love!"

The End

Disclaimer:  Scarecrow and Mrs. King and all characters, logos, and likenesses therein, are the property of Shoot the Moon Productions and Warner Brothers Entertainment Television. No copyright infringement is intended by their use in this story. All other material, copyright 2001 by Deborah A. Kluge.  All rights reserved.  Characters and stories are in no way affiliated with, approved of or endorsed by Shoot the Moon Productions or Warner Brothers Entertainment Television. This is created by a fan for other fans out of love and respect for the show, and is strictly a non-profit endeavor.