(Chapter 13. CG. 11 a.m. November 21.)
Steve sat in his wheelchair waiting for Jesse to bring his discharge paperwork. Jess had been very careful to explain that while he was being discharged from the hospital, he was not being released from a doctor's care. Steve had to laugh. It wasn't like he didn't realize he was still weak and uncoordinated. He knew he was not even close to being ready to go back to work, but he had a month until Christmas and another week after that until New Years. He was determined to make it.
"Wow, what is that look for?" Olivia startled him from his reverie.
"Huh? Oh, I was just thinking. In five weeks I want to go back to work."
"Steve..."
"Liv, I know there's a lot I have to overcome, and I know I might not make it by then, but I have to have a definite goal. I need something to work toward, or I feel like I am working hard and getting nowhere."
"Ok," she agreed reluctantly, "I told you before it might be a stretch, but it is possible."
"Just not very probable," Steve added in a tone of resignation.
"All you can do is try and see. Now let's blow this Popsicle stand."
"I thought Jesse was going to take care of the discharge."
"Oh, he was, but he was called into the ER. The paperwork has already been taken care of, there's no need for you to wait around. I'm sure he'll stop by the house to check on you this evening."
"Ok," Steve agreed, "Home, Jane," he said with a laugh and pointed toward the door.
"Jane?"
"Usually when Jesse pushes me out I tell him, 'Home, James,' but that just wouldn't fit for you."
"I see. Well, we have a stop to make first, but you'll be going home soon."
"A stop? What, to sign the discharge papers?"
"Oh, that, too," Olivia said in a teasing voice.
She pushed him down a strangely empty corridor, toward the PT room.
"Uh, this isn't the usual way out. Where's Dad parked?"
"In his usual spot, but like I said, we have a stop to make." She turned the corner. They were definitely heading toward PT.
"I hate it when you're mysterious."
"I know, but you'll get used to it," she said with a laugh. "I tend to grow on people."
"So does athlete's foot, Liv."
"Well," she said, "I see you do have a sense of humor after all. I was beginning to worry that Davis had worked it right out of you. Personally, though, I don't much care for one-liners."
Finally, they arrived at the PT room. She stopped his chair in front of the double doors, and pushed the button that made them open automatically.
"SURPRISE!!!"
As the doors swung open, a wonderful sight greeted Steve. The room was festooned with streamers and balloons. His dad and his friends were there, as was Davis, his partner Cheryl and some other cops, including his captain, several nurses, and a number of fellow patients he had gotten to know in physical therapy.
He turned and looked at Olivia over his shoulder. "Was this your idea?"
"No, actually it was Jesse and Amanda's, but we were all in on it, and I volunteered to deliver the guest of honor."
"I see. Liv, I need you to do something for me."
"Ok, Steve, but you need to join the party. People are beginning to wonder. You haven't even smiled yet. You look unappreciative to say the least."
"This is for Dad, Amanda, and Jesse, too. They haven't seen me walk since that first day. Get my walker. I don't want to be wheeled in there."
As the guests started to murmur their concern, Olivia took the folding walker from the back of the wheelchair where she had fastened it with another of her Velcro contraptions and unfolded it. She set the brakes on the wheelchair, put the walker in front of Steve, and asked for only him to hear, "Do you need help standing?"
"No, I think I've got it." Taking a deep breath, Steve pushed himself up and took hold of the walker. Olivia could see his legs shaking, but she wasn't sure if it was nerves or strain. He soon steadied, and took a step. The next one was more confident, and then he was walking slowly, but surely, to join the party.
Olivia realized that Mark, Jesse, and Amanda were the only people there who hadn't seen Steve in PT. Most of the cops had stopped by at one time or another and left shortly after. She watched Steve's father and friends carefully and tried to gauge their reactions. They were clearly concerned, but whether they had expected him to be stronger or thought he was overdoing it, she couldn't be sure. Steve's progress was slow, but steady, and wisely, no one made a move to help him.
He went straight to his dad and said, "Thanks for staying away. I know it was difficult for you. I couldn't have gotten this far if you'd been here. It was too hard. I could..." Steve's voice broke, but he swallowed and started again. "I could never have let you see what I went through. Now I'm ready to show you what I can do, and to let you help me get better."
Mark didn't say a word. He just opened his arms to his son. Steve set the walker aside and leaned in for the offered hug. Quite unexpectedly, in front of everyone, Steve started to weep softly, then to sob in earnest. "Oh, Dad, it's just been so hard. I just want to go home."
Jesse laid a hand on Steve's arm, and Amanda rubbed his back in big, slow circles.
Father and son clung together for several minutes until Steve calmed down. "It's ok, son," Mark reassured him, "It's all right."
"Steve," Jesse said softly, "you can go right now if you want. I'm sure no one will mind."
"It will be ok, Steve," Amanda agreed. "We can bring some cake and ice cream by the house tonight."
"No, Dad, guys, wait." Steve wiped his tears on the cuff of his shirt. "I want to stay for the party. Really. I'm ok, it's just...I don't know..."
"You felt a little overwhelmed?" Mark supplied.
"Yeah, I guess," Steve said with a weak but genuine smile.
"Ok. Let me know when you're ready, and we'll go home."
"Ok. Thanks, Dad."
Just then, Olivia discretely came up with a chair for Steve. He was pleased to note it was not a wheelchair. She was remarkably sensitive to his moods, and it touched him that she realized exactly what he needed now. He moved a couple steps toward the table with the cake and ice cream, and when she moved the chair behind him, he sat down.
"Thanks, Liv."
"Not a problem."
Steve really enjoyed his party. He was flattered to know so many people had turned out to wish him well. Davis told one story after another that made him look like Superman, and his dad told about how hardheaded he'd been as a kid.
"Yeah," Steve said, "but what Dad won't tell you is how hard he tried to train it out of me. Between all the extra chores and being grounded most of the time, it's hard to believe I ever had time to get into trouble."
"Oh, is that so?" Mark asked. "I seem to remember you making time, even if it required sneaking out your bedroom window while your mother and I were asleep when you were grounded."
"Steve Sloan!" Amanda reprimanded in mock horror. "Sneaking out in the middle of the night! How could you?"
With a sheepish grin, Steve admitted, "That was just a little youthful indiscretion."
"Yeah," Mark agreed. "The big mistake was when I caught him sneaking in at four in the morning."
Steve could feel the blush rising in his face even though he had to laugh along with everyone else. "That's enough, Dad."
"That same hard-headed attitude is what makes him such a good detective," Cheryl put in. "I remember one time…"
Steve tuned out the story. The more they talked the more determined he was to get back to work. He didn't want to let these people down. They all meant too much to him. More importantly, he had to do it for himself. Every day was still a struggle to keep a positive attitude, and his emotional outburst earlier showed him just how tired he was of being an invalid. He needed to get back to a normal life.
Steve realized he needed to get home. Three months was a long time, and suddenly he was so very homesick he felt ill. He caught his Dad's eye and nodded to the door. Mark caught his meaning and started to break up the party. Steve expressed his thanks to everyone who had come to see him off and promised to stop by the precinct soon. Since he would still be coming to physical therapy every day, the nurses and other patients knew they would be seeing him. Soon it was just Mark, Amanda, Jesse, Steve, and Olivia.
"Mark, why don't you and Steve go home," Olivia suggested. "Jesse, Amanda, and I can clean up here, and we'll be out this evening."
"Thanks, Olivia, I think I'll..."
__Dr. Sloan to the ER, please. Dr. Mark Sloan to the ER, please__.
"Oh, rats. Steve, son, I'm so sorry. I told them not to call me unless no one else could deal with it. It must be serious."
"It's ok, Dad, but would it be all right with you if Jess gave me a ride home? I really need to get out of here now."
__Dr. Travis to the ER, please. Dr. Jesse Travis to the ER, please__.
Mark and Jesse looked at each other and at a very miserable Steve. Neither of them knew what to say.
__Drs. Sloan and Travis to the ER, please. Drs. Mark Sloan and Jesse Travis to the ER, STAT__.
"Look, Mark," Olivia suggested, "Give me your house key. I'll take Steve home and hang out with him until you get there. You guys do what you need to and come back here to help Amanda clean up if she needs you. I'll raid your pantry and fix something for all of us for dinner, ok?"
"Sounds good," Mark agreed, taking the house key off its chain and handing it to Olivia. "That ok with you, Steve?"
"Yeah, Dad. Thanks for asking."
Mark and Jesse took off to the ER, as Olivia helped Steve get situated in his wheelchair. "Amanda," he asked, "Why don't you bring the boys along tonight? I'd really like to see them."
"Ok, Steve," she responded, "If you're sure you're up to it."
"Yeah, I am, see you then." Turning to Olivia, he again said, "Home, Jane."
In her best British accent, she said, "Yes, suh. Home, suh."
Out in front of the hospital, Steve chatted with an orderly while Olivia went to get her car. It occurred to him that he had no idea what she drove. He asked the orderly if he knew.
"Nope, ain't never seen her drive in."
"I'll bet it's something fancy," Steve said. "She's a classy lady. Probably a Lexus or an Audi, maybe a Beamer. What do you think?"
The orderly shrugged. "I dunno. She seems pretty laid-back for something like that. It's probably a sporty little number. Maybe a Mustang. Definitely a convertible."
Just at that moment, Olivia came around the corner in a pale pink atrocity. Steve looked at the orderly and said, "Well, it is a convertible of sorts."
Olivia hopped out and came around to Steve. She read his face and laughed. "Not what you expected?"
"Well, I have to admit, I was thinking Lexus or Audi. Something expensive. My friend here," Steve indicated the orderly, "expected a sports car. What in the hell is that and where in the world did you get it?"
"Mind your language, dear." As she helped Steve into the car, she explained. "It's U.S. Army surplus. There was this ad in the paper when I was a kid. Genuine U.S. Army surplus Jeeps. Sixty bucks a piece, in bulk. Some assembly required."
"In bulk, assembly required?" Steve rolled his eyes.
"Yep. I was going to be a senior in high school and needed some wheels," she said as she tied her copper curls back. "Nine of us girls got together and talked the automotive mechanics teacher and the principal into offering a weekend course for high school credit. Since there was no money in the budget to pay him for the extra time, we pooled our funds and bought a tenth jeep to assemble for the teacher."
"Assembly required? In bulk?" Steve asked again.
"Yes, Steve," Olivia said slowly. "You had to buy ten, and they came in crates, in pieces. It was a good deal for us. For less than seventy bucks each, we learned a lot about cars, got our wheels, and got high school credit to boot. The guys thought we were pretty cool, too, because we understood them when they started talking clutches and carburetors."
"It's pink, Liv."
She laughed again. "I know, isn't it great?"
"It's not just pink, though. It's puffy pink clouds." Steve was still appalled. "It says Cloud Nine, Liv."
"Well, we were all proud of ourselves. I'll have you know every one of them cranked up and ran like a dream the first time we tried the key in the ignition."
"Is that, so?" Steve asked with a smirk.
"Yeah. It was quite an accomplishment for a bunch of teenage girls, so we formed a society to commemorate it. Since there were nine of us, we called ourselves Cloud Nine. The green was a nasty color, so we repainted all of them in different colors in my daddy's tool shed."
"I'll bet he was thrilled with that."
She cut him a look that could have withered an artificial plant, but didn't say anything in response. "Mine is pink," she continued, "Louise's was green, Sophie and Sylvie chose blue and purple, Chris picked red, Becky's was yellow, Meghan's was orange, Alice tried to get teal but ended up with a really pretty turquoise, and Sue painted hers in the school colors, maroon and white. We had them ready for the parade the day the football team came home with the state championship. We got to drive the football players. We even got a two page spread in the yearbook."
She popped a CD in the stereo and cranked it up. It was blasting "Joy to the World."
"Classic rock, huh?"
"Bet your life," Olivia said as she pulled away from the curb.
"I know the CD player wasn't original equipment." Steve had to admit, the jeep may have been 20 years old, but it ran like a new luxury automobile.
"Nope," Olivia replied, "this is the fourth or fifth system I've installed in this thing. Every one of them cost me more than the car. Kind of crazy what we'll spend our money on isn't it? Each of us also installed a CB, and I have modified this thing to meet California emissions standards."
"Well, if music is important to you, why not? But why the CB? Just for the heck of it?"
"Oh, Steve, no. On Friday nights, we used to take turns cruising the county roads. When we spotted a deputy near the designated party spot for that weekend, we'd radio the others to clear out."
"Olivia! You've got to be kidding me. Uh, just out of curiosity, do you have another car?"
"What's the matter? Embarrassed to be seen in this one."
"No, it's not that. It just doesn't seem to fit with your personality."
"You think you know me so well, don't you?"
"Not yet," Steve lowered his voice, "but I'd like to." He was gratified to see Olivia blush. It turned her freckles darker.
"For your information, I also own a new Mercedes and a 1976 Corvette Stingray T-top coupe. It's metallic dark green with a brown interior. Matches my eyes."
Steve gave a low whistle. "Nice car," he said, admiring her red curls dancing in the wind as she accelerated onto the PCH.
"Oh, it's a gem, all right," she agreed. "Cherry condition. Manufactured in St. Louis. Has all the original equipment. Cast aluminum wheels, 350ci engine, 210 horsepower, and a 4-speed manual transmission. It has all the bells and whistles. There are less than 1,400 in the world with the same paint and equipment. I tinkered with the engine a little. It now goes zero to sixty in five seconds flat. It's my baby."
"I'd sure like to ride in it once."
Olivia grinned, "Tell you what. When you're released to go back to work, you can drive it for yourself."
"Not that I need any more incentive to get better, but I will be looking forward to it. Uh, Liv?"
"Yeah?"
"Why on earth do you need three cars?"
"Well, I don't really need them, but I like to tinker. I use this for everyday travel, to and from work, the market, and such. I take the Mercedes when it rains and when I am going somewhere I feel I really need to look professional, and the 'Vette, well, sometimes I like to just pick a direction and drive until I'm tired."
Steve sighed. It felt good to be out in the air again. "I know what you mean. Sometimes just driving will clear my head, and when I come back, everything seems so much better."
"Yeah," Olivia agreed. "That's how I wound up moving out here."
"What do you mean?"
"When I was still back in Baltimore, I had a really rough week, so I took a few days off, headed to Chicago to see some friends, and hopped on route 66. When I got here, I liked it, and started making plans to move."
Steve threw his head back, clapped his hands, and laughed out loud. "You expect me," he gasped between fits of laughter, "to believe that you took off work and drove three thousand miles because you had a bad week?"
She looked at him with a peculiar smile, "It was a really bad week. I needed to see the sun setting on the Pacific Ocean."
Steve suddenly stopped laughing. "You're serious!"
"As a heart attack."
Olivia could see the wheels turning in Steve's head.
"How can you just take off work like that?"
"I just call in and say I won't be there for a few days."
"I see. But don't your employers...I mean how does your boss react when..." Steve groaned in frustration.
Olivia laughed, and said, "I think you're looking for a delicate way to ask an indelicate question. You're dying of curiosity but don't want to appear nosey. Just spit it out, Steve. I promise I won't take offense."
Steve pointed a finger at her and said, "Remember you said that, and remember that you were teasing me for thinking I knew you too well."
Olivia nodded, "Ok." She suspected she knew what he was going to ask.
"How can you just take off work and travel across the country on a whim? I would think it would be hard to hold a job that way. And how do you manage to maintain and insure those three cars and make house payments when you just take a few days off whenever you feel like it? I can imagine what the hospital pays you, and even if you were married, I think it would be tough to cover all those payments."
She was right. He wanted to know if money was an issue. He couldn't understand how she could have all that she did. If he only knew what it had cost her. She decided to tell him at least part of the truth. "I don't take off very often, Steve, and I make sure to do my job well enough so that my boss doesn't mind letting me go for a few days when I need to clear my head. Also, I don't make payments, darling. I pay cash."
"Yeah, right. For a house in Brentwood."
She gave him that odd smile again that said she wasn't kidding.
"You're serious again," he said in amazement.
"Yep, and I'm filthy rich, too, but that's another story all together," she said with disgust. "I hope that doesn't change your opinion of me."
When Steve said nothing, she continued, "I grew up poor, but several years ago I came into an unexpected windfall. Where the money came from is not important beyond the fact that it was perfectly legal. I have more money than I could spend in a dozen lifetimes, and my accountant and broker keep making it grow. I indulge my interests and give a good deal to charity, and beyond that, I don't know what to do with the rest so I let them handle it."
"Then why do you work for a living?"
Olivia stared down the highway for a moment. "Lots of reasons, I guess," she said as she accelerated to pass a truck that was puttering along at forty-five.
"Such as?"
"Well, when I was a kid, I knew we were poor," she explained. "I used to hate that my folks had to work so hard to make ends meet. Mom didn't buy much at the grocery store. She might have spent thirty bucks a week on the eight of us. All our veggies came from the garden. Fruit came from the orchard, milk from the cows, eggs from the henhouse, and meat from the cows, the pigs, and the woods."
"Sounds like Little House on the Prairie," Steve joked.
Olivia got quiet for a moment, then asked, "Have you heard the expression 'grinding poverty?'"
"Well, yeah," Steve said, uncertain where she was going.
"I can remember one winter when I was very young, and there had been a drought that summer. The cows hadn't milked well all summer, and then a hailstorm destroyed what little corn crop my daddy had managed to produce. We had to buy hay and silage to feed the cows. That winter, there were a lot of nights my parents wouldn't eat supper so there would be enough for us kids."
"Oh, God, Liv. I'm so sorry. I didn't realize what you meant when you said you were poor."
Olivia nodded and said kindly, "Most people don't, and you don't need to feel sorry. It's impossible for the average person to comprehend that in modern America, there are families that still live like that. My brother Andy had rickets, for Heaven's sake, and every winter until I was five, at least one of us came down with scurvy. No body gets those diseases in this country, for crying out loud."
They drove on in silence for several minutes, and Steve began to worry that he had offended her to the point where she wouldn't speak to him.
Finally, she began again. "When I started school, social services tried to take Andy, Beth, and me away. They said malnutrition was stunting my growth. That's when the church started giving us food baskets. It was embarrassing, but Mama and Daddy accepted the charity."
"God, Liv. I can't imagine."
She shrugged. "Most people can't. The two oldest boys were the only ones who always got new clothes for school. My sister and I would each get a dress and shoes, but our everyday clothes were hand-me-downs from the boys. I used to fantasize about being so rich that my family would never have to work again, but Daddy always told me that an honest day's work would make him prouder of me than anything I could ever buy."
"So, you work to please your dad, huh? I'll bet he's proud of you."
She gave him an odd look. "Well, I guess. I also remember one of my teachers having a poster that said, 'Be not simply good, be good for something.' It took me a while to figure that one out, but I eventually found out I felt better about life and myself when I was doing something worthwhile."
"Liv?"
"Yeah, Steve?"
"You remember how a few weeks ago I called you amazing?"
"Yeah."
"Well, my opinion of you hasn't changed a bit."
She blushed again. "Steve, you still barely know me."
"I know enough," he said, "to know that I want to know more."
As Olivia pulled into Steve's driveway, she looked at the watch that was never really there and said, "Well, it will be hours until anyone arrives for dinner. We have plenty of time to talk."
Steve sat in his wheelchair waiting for Jesse to bring his discharge paperwork. Jess had been very careful to explain that while he was being discharged from the hospital, he was not being released from a doctor's care. Steve had to laugh. It wasn't like he didn't realize he was still weak and uncoordinated. He knew he was not even close to being ready to go back to work, but he had a month until Christmas and another week after that until New Years. He was determined to make it.
"Wow, what is that look for?" Olivia startled him from his reverie.
"Huh? Oh, I was just thinking. In five weeks I want to go back to work."
"Steve..."
"Liv, I know there's a lot I have to overcome, and I know I might not make it by then, but I have to have a definite goal. I need something to work toward, or I feel like I am working hard and getting nowhere."
"Ok," she agreed reluctantly, "I told you before it might be a stretch, but it is possible."
"Just not very probable," Steve added in a tone of resignation.
"All you can do is try and see. Now let's blow this Popsicle stand."
"I thought Jesse was going to take care of the discharge."
"Oh, he was, but he was called into the ER. The paperwork has already been taken care of, there's no need for you to wait around. I'm sure he'll stop by the house to check on you this evening."
"Ok," Steve agreed, "Home, Jane," he said with a laugh and pointed toward the door.
"Jane?"
"Usually when Jesse pushes me out I tell him, 'Home, James,' but that just wouldn't fit for you."
"I see. Well, we have a stop to make first, but you'll be going home soon."
"A stop? What, to sign the discharge papers?"
"Oh, that, too," Olivia said in a teasing voice.
She pushed him down a strangely empty corridor, toward the PT room.
"Uh, this isn't the usual way out. Where's Dad parked?"
"In his usual spot, but like I said, we have a stop to make." She turned the corner. They were definitely heading toward PT.
"I hate it when you're mysterious."
"I know, but you'll get used to it," she said with a laugh. "I tend to grow on people."
"So does athlete's foot, Liv."
"Well," she said, "I see you do have a sense of humor after all. I was beginning to worry that Davis had worked it right out of you. Personally, though, I don't much care for one-liners."
Finally, they arrived at the PT room. She stopped his chair in front of the double doors, and pushed the button that made them open automatically.
"SURPRISE!!!"
As the doors swung open, a wonderful sight greeted Steve. The room was festooned with streamers and balloons. His dad and his friends were there, as was Davis, his partner Cheryl and some other cops, including his captain, several nurses, and a number of fellow patients he had gotten to know in physical therapy.
He turned and looked at Olivia over his shoulder. "Was this your idea?"
"No, actually it was Jesse and Amanda's, but we were all in on it, and I volunteered to deliver the guest of honor."
"I see. Liv, I need you to do something for me."
"Ok, Steve, but you need to join the party. People are beginning to wonder. You haven't even smiled yet. You look unappreciative to say the least."
"This is for Dad, Amanda, and Jesse, too. They haven't seen me walk since that first day. Get my walker. I don't want to be wheeled in there."
As the guests started to murmur their concern, Olivia took the folding walker from the back of the wheelchair where she had fastened it with another of her Velcro contraptions and unfolded it. She set the brakes on the wheelchair, put the walker in front of Steve, and asked for only him to hear, "Do you need help standing?"
"No, I think I've got it." Taking a deep breath, Steve pushed himself up and took hold of the walker. Olivia could see his legs shaking, but she wasn't sure if it was nerves or strain. He soon steadied, and took a step. The next one was more confident, and then he was walking slowly, but surely, to join the party.
Olivia realized that Mark, Jesse, and Amanda were the only people there who hadn't seen Steve in PT. Most of the cops had stopped by at one time or another and left shortly after. She watched Steve's father and friends carefully and tried to gauge their reactions. They were clearly concerned, but whether they had expected him to be stronger or thought he was overdoing it, she couldn't be sure. Steve's progress was slow, but steady, and wisely, no one made a move to help him.
He went straight to his dad and said, "Thanks for staying away. I know it was difficult for you. I couldn't have gotten this far if you'd been here. It was too hard. I could..." Steve's voice broke, but he swallowed and started again. "I could never have let you see what I went through. Now I'm ready to show you what I can do, and to let you help me get better."
Mark didn't say a word. He just opened his arms to his son. Steve set the walker aside and leaned in for the offered hug. Quite unexpectedly, in front of everyone, Steve started to weep softly, then to sob in earnest. "Oh, Dad, it's just been so hard. I just want to go home."
Jesse laid a hand on Steve's arm, and Amanda rubbed his back in big, slow circles.
Father and son clung together for several minutes until Steve calmed down. "It's ok, son," Mark reassured him, "It's all right."
"Steve," Jesse said softly, "you can go right now if you want. I'm sure no one will mind."
"It will be ok, Steve," Amanda agreed. "We can bring some cake and ice cream by the house tonight."
"No, Dad, guys, wait." Steve wiped his tears on the cuff of his shirt. "I want to stay for the party. Really. I'm ok, it's just...I don't know..."
"You felt a little overwhelmed?" Mark supplied.
"Yeah, I guess," Steve said with a weak but genuine smile.
"Ok. Let me know when you're ready, and we'll go home."
"Ok. Thanks, Dad."
Just then, Olivia discretely came up with a chair for Steve. He was pleased to note it was not a wheelchair. She was remarkably sensitive to his moods, and it touched him that she realized exactly what he needed now. He moved a couple steps toward the table with the cake and ice cream, and when she moved the chair behind him, he sat down.
"Thanks, Liv."
"Not a problem."
Steve really enjoyed his party. He was flattered to know so many people had turned out to wish him well. Davis told one story after another that made him look like Superman, and his dad told about how hardheaded he'd been as a kid.
"Yeah," Steve said, "but what Dad won't tell you is how hard he tried to train it out of me. Between all the extra chores and being grounded most of the time, it's hard to believe I ever had time to get into trouble."
"Oh, is that so?" Mark asked. "I seem to remember you making time, even if it required sneaking out your bedroom window while your mother and I were asleep when you were grounded."
"Steve Sloan!" Amanda reprimanded in mock horror. "Sneaking out in the middle of the night! How could you?"
With a sheepish grin, Steve admitted, "That was just a little youthful indiscretion."
"Yeah," Mark agreed. "The big mistake was when I caught him sneaking in at four in the morning."
Steve could feel the blush rising in his face even though he had to laugh along with everyone else. "That's enough, Dad."
"That same hard-headed attitude is what makes him such a good detective," Cheryl put in. "I remember one time…"
Steve tuned out the story. The more they talked the more determined he was to get back to work. He didn't want to let these people down. They all meant too much to him. More importantly, he had to do it for himself. Every day was still a struggle to keep a positive attitude, and his emotional outburst earlier showed him just how tired he was of being an invalid. He needed to get back to a normal life.
Steve realized he needed to get home. Three months was a long time, and suddenly he was so very homesick he felt ill. He caught his Dad's eye and nodded to the door. Mark caught his meaning and started to break up the party. Steve expressed his thanks to everyone who had come to see him off and promised to stop by the precinct soon. Since he would still be coming to physical therapy every day, the nurses and other patients knew they would be seeing him. Soon it was just Mark, Amanda, Jesse, Steve, and Olivia.
"Mark, why don't you and Steve go home," Olivia suggested. "Jesse, Amanda, and I can clean up here, and we'll be out this evening."
"Thanks, Olivia, I think I'll..."
__Dr. Sloan to the ER, please. Dr. Mark Sloan to the ER, please__.
"Oh, rats. Steve, son, I'm so sorry. I told them not to call me unless no one else could deal with it. It must be serious."
"It's ok, Dad, but would it be all right with you if Jess gave me a ride home? I really need to get out of here now."
__Dr. Travis to the ER, please. Dr. Jesse Travis to the ER, please__.
Mark and Jesse looked at each other and at a very miserable Steve. Neither of them knew what to say.
__Drs. Sloan and Travis to the ER, please. Drs. Mark Sloan and Jesse Travis to the ER, STAT__.
"Look, Mark," Olivia suggested, "Give me your house key. I'll take Steve home and hang out with him until you get there. You guys do what you need to and come back here to help Amanda clean up if she needs you. I'll raid your pantry and fix something for all of us for dinner, ok?"
"Sounds good," Mark agreed, taking the house key off its chain and handing it to Olivia. "That ok with you, Steve?"
"Yeah, Dad. Thanks for asking."
Mark and Jesse took off to the ER, as Olivia helped Steve get situated in his wheelchair. "Amanda," he asked, "Why don't you bring the boys along tonight? I'd really like to see them."
"Ok, Steve," she responded, "If you're sure you're up to it."
"Yeah, I am, see you then." Turning to Olivia, he again said, "Home, Jane."
In her best British accent, she said, "Yes, suh. Home, suh."
Out in front of the hospital, Steve chatted with an orderly while Olivia went to get her car. It occurred to him that he had no idea what she drove. He asked the orderly if he knew.
"Nope, ain't never seen her drive in."
"I'll bet it's something fancy," Steve said. "She's a classy lady. Probably a Lexus or an Audi, maybe a Beamer. What do you think?"
The orderly shrugged. "I dunno. She seems pretty laid-back for something like that. It's probably a sporty little number. Maybe a Mustang. Definitely a convertible."
Just at that moment, Olivia came around the corner in a pale pink atrocity. Steve looked at the orderly and said, "Well, it is a convertible of sorts."
Olivia hopped out and came around to Steve. She read his face and laughed. "Not what you expected?"
"Well, I have to admit, I was thinking Lexus or Audi. Something expensive. My friend here," Steve indicated the orderly, "expected a sports car. What in the hell is that and where in the world did you get it?"
"Mind your language, dear." As she helped Steve into the car, she explained. "It's U.S. Army surplus. There was this ad in the paper when I was a kid. Genuine U.S. Army surplus Jeeps. Sixty bucks a piece, in bulk. Some assembly required."
"In bulk, assembly required?" Steve rolled his eyes.
"Yep. I was going to be a senior in high school and needed some wheels," she said as she tied her copper curls back. "Nine of us girls got together and talked the automotive mechanics teacher and the principal into offering a weekend course for high school credit. Since there was no money in the budget to pay him for the extra time, we pooled our funds and bought a tenth jeep to assemble for the teacher."
"Assembly required? In bulk?" Steve asked again.
"Yes, Steve," Olivia said slowly. "You had to buy ten, and they came in crates, in pieces. It was a good deal for us. For less than seventy bucks each, we learned a lot about cars, got our wheels, and got high school credit to boot. The guys thought we were pretty cool, too, because we understood them when they started talking clutches and carburetors."
"It's pink, Liv."
She laughed again. "I know, isn't it great?"
"It's not just pink, though. It's puffy pink clouds." Steve was still appalled. "It says Cloud Nine, Liv."
"Well, we were all proud of ourselves. I'll have you know every one of them cranked up and ran like a dream the first time we tried the key in the ignition."
"Is that, so?" Steve asked with a smirk.
"Yeah. It was quite an accomplishment for a bunch of teenage girls, so we formed a society to commemorate it. Since there were nine of us, we called ourselves Cloud Nine. The green was a nasty color, so we repainted all of them in different colors in my daddy's tool shed."
"I'll bet he was thrilled with that."
She cut him a look that could have withered an artificial plant, but didn't say anything in response. "Mine is pink," she continued, "Louise's was green, Sophie and Sylvie chose blue and purple, Chris picked red, Becky's was yellow, Meghan's was orange, Alice tried to get teal but ended up with a really pretty turquoise, and Sue painted hers in the school colors, maroon and white. We had them ready for the parade the day the football team came home with the state championship. We got to drive the football players. We even got a two page spread in the yearbook."
She popped a CD in the stereo and cranked it up. It was blasting "Joy to the World."
"Classic rock, huh?"
"Bet your life," Olivia said as she pulled away from the curb.
"I know the CD player wasn't original equipment." Steve had to admit, the jeep may have been 20 years old, but it ran like a new luxury automobile.
"Nope," Olivia replied, "this is the fourth or fifth system I've installed in this thing. Every one of them cost me more than the car. Kind of crazy what we'll spend our money on isn't it? Each of us also installed a CB, and I have modified this thing to meet California emissions standards."
"Well, if music is important to you, why not? But why the CB? Just for the heck of it?"
"Oh, Steve, no. On Friday nights, we used to take turns cruising the county roads. When we spotted a deputy near the designated party spot for that weekend, we'd radio the others to clear out."
"Olivia! You've got to be kidding me. Uh, just out of curiosity, do you have another car?"
"What's the matter? Embarrassed to be seen in this one."
"No, it's not that. It just doesn't seem to fit with your personality."
"You think you know me so well, don't you?"
"Not yet," Steve lowered his voice, "but I'd like to." He was gratified to see Olivia blush. It turned her freckles darker.
"For your information, I also own a new Mercedes and a 1976 Corvette Stingray T-top coupe. It's metallic dark green with a brown interior. Matches my eyes."
Steve gave a low whistle. "Nice car," he said, admiring her red curls dancing in the wind as she accelerated onto the PCH.
"Oh, it's a gem, all right," she agreed. "Cherry condition. Manufactured in St. Louis. Has all the original equipment. Cast aluminum wheels, 350ci engine, 210 horsepower, and a 4-speed manual transmission. It has all the bells and whistles. There are less than 1,400 in the world with the same paint and equipment. I tinkered with the engine a little. It now goes zero to sixty in five seconds flat. It's my baby."
"I'd sure like to ride in it once."
Olivia grinned, "Tell you what. When you're released to go back to work, you can drive it for yourself."
"Not that I need any more incentive to get better, but I will be looking forward to it. Uh, Liv?"
"Yeah?"
"Why on earth do you need three cars?"
"Well, I don't really need them, but I like to tinker. I use this for everyday travel, to and from work, the market, and such. I take the Mercedes when it rains and when I am going somewhere I feel I really need to look professional, and the 'Vette, well, sometimes I like to just pick a direction and drive until I'm tired."
Steve sighed. It felt good to be out in the air again. "I know what you mean. Sometimes just driving will clear my head, and when I come back, everything seems so much better."
"Yeah," Olivia agreed. "That's how I wound up moving out here."
"What do you mean?"
"When I was still back in Baltimore, I had a really rough week, so I took a few days off, headed to Chicago to see some friends, and hopped on route 66. When I got here, I liked it, and started making plans to move."
Steve threw his head back, clapped his hands, and laughed out loud. "You expect me," he gasped between fits of laughter, "to believe that you took off work and drove three thousand miles because you had a bad week?"
She looked at him with a peculiar smile, "It was a really bad week. I needed to see the sun setting on the Pacific Ocean."
Steve suddenly stopped laughing. "You're serious!"
"As a heart attack."
Olivia could see the wheels turning in Steve's head.
"How can you just take off work like that?"
"I just call in and say I won't be there for a few days."
"I see. But don't your employers...I mean how does your boss react when..." Steve groaned in frustration.
Olivia laughed, and said, "I think you're looking for a delicate way to ask an indelicate question. You're dying of curiosity but don't want to appear nosey. Just spit it out, Steve. I promise I won't take offense."
Steve pointed a finger at her and said, "Remember you said that, and remember that you were teasing me for thinking I knew you too well."
Olivia nodded, "Ok." She suspected she knew what he was going to ask.
"How can you just take off work and travel across the country on a whim? I would think it would be hard to hold a job that way. And how do you manage to maintain and insure those three cars and make house payments when you just take a few days off whenever you feel like it? I can imagine what the hospital pays you, and even if you were married, I think it would be tough to cover all those payments."
She was right. He wanted to know if money was an issue. He couldn't understand how she could have all that she did. If he only knew what it had cost her. She decided to tell him at least part of the truth. "I don't take off very often, Steve, and I make sure to do my job well enough so that my boss doesn't mind letting me go for a few days when I need to clear my head. Also, I don't make payments, darling. I pay cash."
"Yeah, right. For a house in Brentwood."
She gave him that odd smile again that said she wasn't kidding.
"You're serious again," he said in amazement.
"Yep, and I'm filthy rich, too, but that's another story all together," she said with disgust. "I hope that doesn't change your opinion of me."
When Steve said nothing, she continued, "I grew up poor, but several years ago I came into an unexpected windfall. Where the money came from is not important beyond the fact that it was perfectly legal. I have more money than I could spend in a dozen lifetimes, and my accountant and broker keep making it grow. I indulge my interests and give a good deal to charity, and beyond that, I don't know what to do with the rest so I let them handle it."
"Then why do you work for a living?"
Olivia stared down the highway for a moment. "Lots of reasons, I guess," she said as she accelerated to pass a truck that was puttering along at forty-five.
"Such as?"
"Well, when I was a kid, I knew we were poor," she explained. "I used to hate that my folks had to work so hard to make ends meet. Mom didn't buy much at the grocery store. She might have spent thirty bucks a week on the eight of us. All our veggies came from the garden. Fruit came from the orchard, milk from the cows, eggs from the henhouse, and meat from the cows, the pigs, and the woods."
"Sounds like Little House on the Prairie," Steve joked.
Olivia got quiet for a moment, then asked, "Have you heard the expression 'grinding poverty?'"
"Well, yeah," Steve said, uncertain where she was going.
"I can remember one winter when I was very young, and there had been a drought that summer. The cows hadn't milked well all summer, and then a hailstorm destroyed what little corn crop my daddy had managed to produce. We had to buy hay and silage to feed the cows. That winter, there were a lot of nights my parents wouldn't eat supper so there would be enough for us kids."
"Oh, God, Liv. I'm so sorry. I didn't realize what you meant when you said you were poor."
Olivia nodded and said kindly, "Most people don't, and you don't need to feel sorry. It's impossible for the average person to comprehend that in modern America, there are families that still live like that. My brother Andy had rickets, for Heaven's sake, and every winter until I was five, at least one of us came down with scurvy. No body gets those diseases in this country, for crying out loud."
They drove on in silence for several minutes, and Steve began to worry that he had offended her to the point where she wouldn't speak to him.
Finally, she began again. "When I started school, social services tried to take Andy, Beth, and me away. They said malnutrition was stunting my growth. That's when the church started giving us food baskets. It was embarrassing, but Mama and Daddy accepted the charity."
"God, Liv. I can't imagine."
She shrugged. "Most people can't. The two oldest boys were the only ones who always got new clothes for school. My sister and I would each get a dress and shoes, but our everyday clothes were hand-me-downs from the boys. I used to fantasize about being so rich that my family would never have to work again, but Daddy always told me that an honest day's work would make him prouder of me than anything I could ever buy."
"So, you work to please your dad, huh? I'll bet he's proud of you."
She gave him an odd look. "Well, I guess. I also remember one of my teachers having a poster that said, 'Be not simply good, be good for something.' It took me a while to figure that one out, but I eventually found out I felt better about life and myself when I was doing something worthwhile."
"Liv?"
"Yeah, Steve?"
"You remember how a few weeks ago I called you amazing?"
"Yeah."
"Well, my opinion of you hasn't changed a bit."
She blushed again. "Steve, you still barely know me."
"I know enough," he said, "to know that I want to know more."
As Olivia pulled into Steve's driveway, she looked at the watch that was never really there and said, "Well, it will be hours until anyone arrives for dinner. We have plenty of time to talk."