(Chapter 17. November 22. 6 AM. Olivia's house, later at the beach house.)

Olivia smiled in her sleep. Anyone who saw her would have known she was having a very pleasant dream. They would have heard her sigh with contentment and murmur a name. Then they would have seen a troubled frown cross her angelic face as the ringing of a phone intruded into her fantasy. They would have seen her eyes squeeze tight as she pulled the pillow over her head to block out the insistent sound. Finally, they would have seen her as she rolled over and got the phone on the sixth ring.

"Good morning," Olivia said cordially.

"Good morning," said a suave male voice. "Is it too early?"

A smile lit her face. "Yes," she said. "But don't let that stop you. I was just dreaming about you and didn't want to quit."

"I can call back later," Steve offered.

"What? No! I'm awake, now, babe. We might as well make plans for the day."

She heard Steve laugh. "I love the way you say that so easily."

"Say what?"

"Babe. It makes me feel like I'm special to you."

"Well, you are." She smiled into the phone, "I guess that will have to be my own special nickname for you, huh?"

"I'd like that."

"So what do you have planned for the day?"

"Oh, I don't know," Steve said on a yawn. "I just woke up and rolled over to call you. I'm still in bed myself."

"I see. Well, do you want me to come over, and we can decide then?"

"Actually, I was thinking we could just lay in bed and talk for a while. It's nice to wake up to the sound of your voice."

"Well, babe," she emphasized the new nickname, "what are we going to talk about while we lay around in bed?"

"How about..." he pretended to think it over, "How about what we would do if we were laying around in bed together?"

Olivia couldn't say a word; she just started to giggle. She heard Steve's frustrated sigh come over the line. "It's not going to happen, is it?" he asked.

"Sorry, babe," Olivia laughed into the phone, "Not today. I never thought of you as the phone-sex type."

"I'm not, really. I just wanted to see what you would say. I think I've got a nickname for you, now." Steve said with a laugh.

"Oh, what is it?"

"Gigglefits," he said with a smile in his voice.

Olivia sat bolt upright in bed and squealed in a panic, "Steve, no!"

"Why not?"

"Someone will wonder what it means and one of us will have to explain. I would die of embarrassment."

"I know," Steve laughed. "But you're so cute when you're embarrassed."

"Steve," Olivia implored, "please don't do that to me. I don't know if I could take it. I'm...shy...about things like that."

After a pause, he agreed. "Ok, I won't use it..."

"Oh, thank you."

"...often."

"Oh, ok." Olivia thought about arguing the point, but decided against it. Perhaps the safer path was to change the subject. "Look, I'll come over in an hour or so, and we'll go for a walk on the beach, ok?"

"Sounds good for a start." Then Steve lowered his voice to a pitch that he knew drove women wild. "Maybe then we can do something else on the beach."

The sound of her giggle made Steve grin. "See you in about an hour, Gigglefits?"

Olivia chose to ignore the jibe. "Yeah, babe, maybe a little longer, I have to get gas."

"Ok. You want me to have Dad hold breakfast for you?"

"Nah, I'm already starving. Besides, it's probably the only chance you two will have to spend time alone together all day."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Steve paused a moment, "Liv?"

"Yeah, babe?"

"Why's it so important to you that my dad and I get time together? You did the same thing last night when he interrupted us."

"Because I miss my dad," she said sadly, "and I'd give anything for the chance to have breakfast with him in the morning."

"Oh. Well, you know, I'd be more than happy to share mine," he said only half in jest.

"Your dad, or your breakfast?"

"Either. Both."

She laughed. "So accommodating. Really, I appreciate the offer, Steve, but not today. I'll see you later."

"Ok, bye, Liv."

It wasn't until after Olivia hung up that it occurred to Steve to wonder why she didn't just go home for Thanksgiving if she missed her dad so much. Or if going home was too difficult for her, she could certainly afford to bring her family to LA. He decided he'd ask her about it later. He put the receiver in its cradle and rolled over to get out of bed. He looked at the wheelchair, conveniently parked beside him, and stuck his tongue out at it. Then he laughed at himself. It seemed like the kind of silly, playful thing Olivia would do. She'd had a huge impact on his life already.

He found himself wondering how someone who had been through what she had could be so joyful all the time. What was the source of her happiness? Where did she get her strength? The more he thought about it, the more he realized there was still so much he needed to know about her. He found himself hoping they'd have time for another long talk today. This time, though, he wanted to discuss more cheerful matters.

He grinned, stuck his tongue out at the wheelchair again, and decided he'd quit using it today. From now on, however long it took him, he would walk where he was going. Right now, he was going to the bathroom.

The walker was strapped to the back of the wheelchair. He turned the chair around, undid the straps, and unfolded the walker. Slowly, he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He slid his feet into his bedroom slippers, gripped the walker, and tried to stand up. He didn't make it; he was too stiff.

"Aw, nuts," he muttered.

He was determined to do this himself. He was not going to call for help. He tried again.

Just then, his dad poked his head in the room. "You up, Steve?"

"Yeah, Dad, almost," he grunted with the effort of trying to make his stiff muscles and joints work.

Mark was at his side in a flash. "Here, son," he said, taking Steve's arm. "Let me help. Why don't you use the chair?"

Steve shook his dad loose and collapsed back on the bed. "Leave me alone, Dad!" He spoke more sharply than he had intended, and he could see the hurt in his father's eyes. It tore at his heart, and he apologized immediately.

"Dad, I'm sorry I yelled. I need to do this myself. I know you want to help, but I'd rather it take me all day to do this one thing for myself than to have someone help me, and I don't want to use the wheelchair anymore."

Mark nodded. "I understand, Steve. You let me know any time you need anything, and I'll remember to ask before I jump in and start giving help where it's neither needed nor wanted, ok?"

Steve nodded and said, "It's a deal."

"Now, is there anything I can do?" Mark asked.

"Could you bring me my robe?"

Mark got the robe and stood nearby. His heart broke as he watched his son, once so vital and athletic, struggle simply to stand. For a moment, it looked as if Steve would fall back to the bed yet again, and it took all of Mark's self-restraint not to reach out and steady him. Finally, Steve was on his feet and balanced. Mark held out the robe for him to slip into.

"Thanks, Dad," Steve said gratefully. "I think it would really help if the bed were higher. Do we have some bricks or something in the garage we could use to raise it up?"

"I think so," Mark said. "I'll see if I can get some help from Jesse this evening."

"Ok. I'd appreciate it. Now, please don't be offended by this request, but could you find something else to do while I get a shower and get dressed? It's going to take me a while, and I don't need an audience."

"You'll yell if you need help?"

Steve nodded, "I promise."

"What do you want for breakfast?"

"Surprise me."

Mark lifted the bedspread and looked under the bed. He opened the closet and looked in there, then peeked behind the headboard.

"Uh, Dad, what are you doing?"

"Looking for Olivia. Last time you told me to surprise you with breakfast, she was in your bed."

Steve made a face. "Not funny, Dad."

Mark grinned back and said, "I'll have something ready for you in, say, forty-five minutes."

Steve nodded and took a tentative step. "I think I'll be ready by then. By the way, Olivia will be here in about an hour, so make it something I can eat quickly."

"Ok. Should I make enough for her?" Mark noticed that every step Steve took became more confident. He just needed to limber up some.

"No, she wanted us to have some time together, and figured breakfast would be the only chance we'd have today."

"Well," Mark said, "that's thoughtful of her."

"Yeah, Dad," Steve said with a slight smile, "she's something special. Would you please go now?"

Mark nodded and left the room, grinning. He knew that smile. Steve was smitten. Suddenly the grin turned to a frown. She was special, but would she be the one? He was afraid for his son. Sometimes Steve gave his heart away so easily. There had been women who had deliberately used him and intentionally hurt him. Others had never meant any harm, but they couldn't handle the constant worrying about his safety. Olivia had a strength born of adversity that none of the others ever had, but would she be willing to face the endless fear and frequent sorrow that came with loving a cop?

As Steve crept toward the bathroom, he heard his dad rattling about the kitchen. He hoped he could be showered and dressed in time for breakfast. He nodded to himself and decided that would be his first goal for the day. He was going to start setting a series of goals for himself, and see how many he could accomplish every day.

In the bathroom, Steve immediately noticed that his dad had had safety rails installed by the toilet and in the shower. There was also a shower seat and a hand-held showerhead. He hated to admit that he needed them, but he knew his dad had done the right thing. He decided to brush his teeth before he faced facts and stepped into the shower. He refused to think of himself as handicapped. His condition was temporary, and in just a few more weeks, he was going to be back in form.

He rinsed the toothbrush and put it back in the holder. Then he gingerly walked over to the shower and took off his clothes. He noticed with some pride that his balance was improving. He didn't feel like he was about to topple over when he let go of the walker to take off his robe and pajama top. As he took off the pajama bottoms, he was surprised to find that his legs were bulking up again. His clothes weren't falling off him any more.

He stood naked in the bathroom for a moment, took a deep breath, and turned to look at himself in the full-length mirror on the back of the door. What he saw made him gasp. He knew he looked bad, but he was unprepared for what he saw the first time he took a good look in the mirror.

The scars from the bullet wounds had created dents in his flesh while the surgical incisions looked like welts. Some scars were an angry red, and others were an unnatural white. The surface of the tissue was striated and shiny. He touched one of the red scars on his pelvis. He expected to feel heat there, but it was no warmer than the rest of him. He was surprised that even in such a sensitive region, he couldn't really feel his own touch.

A thin tendril of panic wrapped around his heart as he wondered how much sensation he had lost there. He had worked hard to get back his confidence and physical strength, but he still had a long way to go. Had the shooting also taken something that he couldn't get back? He couldn't imagine loving Olivia and not being able to make love to her.

Trying to clear away such thoughts, he shook his head. Olivia had been unfailingly honest, surely she would have told him if that had been...damaged. Then again, she was so skittish about such matters; maybe she couldn't bring herself to discuss it. Steve could feel his heart pounding as his breathing speeded up. He'd never considered the possibility. He leaned heavily on the walker. He was getting dizzy and needed to sit, but the toilet was several steps away. He was loath to do it, but finally he called for help.

"Dad, I need you, now!"

Mark was at his side in scant seconds. "What is it, son?"

"I need to sit, and I don't think I can make it to the commode on my own."

Mark put an arm around Steve's waist and Steve put his arm around Mark's neck. They walked as quickly as possible to the commode. As his dad helped him turn to sit, Steve demanded, "My robe."

Mark draped the robe around his son's shoulders and helped him ease down onto the closed lid of the toilet. Then he sat on the edge of the tub to face his son. "What happened, Steve? You're panting like you've just run a race. What's wrong?"

As Steve slipped his arms into the robe and tied it shut, tears came to his eyes. "Aw, dammit!" He ran his hands over his face and said, "I am so...damned tired...of feeling this way." He took some toilet paper off the roll and wiped his eyes and blew his nose.

Mark put a comforting hand on his son's shoulder, squeezed, and asked, "Just how are you feeling, son?"

Steve was still fighting tears as he answered, "Everything's going fine. I'm making real progress, and I'm getting stronger ...and ...and ...and ...I know there's hope. I know I'm going to recover."

"But then something goes wrong?"

Steve nodded and swiped at his tears again. "A stray thought or some kind of minor inconvenience and all of a sudden my heart is pounding, my chest hurts, I can't breath, I get dizzy, and my stomach starts to churn."

"Your mouth goes dry, you get the shakes, and you start to sweat?"

"Sometimes," Steve nodded. "How'd you know?"

"You're describing a panic attack, Steve. Have you had them often?"

"Sometimes during PT, yeah."

"And you never said anything to Davis?"

Steve shook his head no. "It was kind of embarrassing, you know? I just let him believe it was the physical exertion."

"I see. Son, I've noticed that you've been very emotional lately, and that's to be expected. I've been a little concerned, but what you've just described is something serious. I didn't say anything before, because I thought you might want to handle it yourself, but, Steve, given what you've just told me, I think you should see a counselor."

Steve started to protest, but Mark overrode him. "There's nothing wrong with you mentally, but this whole ordeal has been emotionally trying for you. You need to talk to someone who can help you figure out exactly what has been triggering these episodes. It could even be posttraumatic stress disorder, but once you know what's causing your problems, you can start to control them. I can make an appointment for you for after PT on Monday."

Steve shook his head. "I think I know what caused this incident, and I have a pretty good idea what caused the others. I think it will stop if I can ask a few questions and get some straight answers. Can we try that first? If it doesn't work and if this happens again, I'll let you call that counselor; but I need to ask these questions anyway."

Mark considered a moment and nodded. "Ok, son, but I want your word that if you have another panic attack you will tell me right away and that you'll let me make an appointment for you."

Steve nodded. "Agreed."

"You understand, that if you don't hold up your end of this deal, you're lying to me. I mean that."

Steve closed his eyes, "Dad, I just want this to stop." He looked Mark in the eye now, and said, "If it happens again, I will let you know, because I know I need help. If getting the answers to all my questions doesn't do the trick, I'll know I can't handle it myself."

"Ok, son, ask your questions."

Steve took a deep breath and thought for a moment. "Am I fooling myself? Will I really recover and go back to work, or am I going to be crippled for life?"

Mark shook his head. "Son, that's not an easy question to answer."

"Dad, I need to know. What can you tell me?"

"I'll tell you everything I can, son, but it's not as simple as saying, 'yes, you'll get better,' or, 'no, you won't'. Olivia promised you you'd recover completely, didn't she?"

Steve nodded, "Yes, sir."

Mark sighed. "She believes that one hundred percent, Steve. She is a person of powerful faith, and she believes that God has His hand on you and that He will make everything all right. For her, there is no doubt, no other alternative. In her mind, there is a divine plan for you. She simply believes that that's the way things will be." Mark hoped Steve would let things go at that. He didn't want to have to tell his son that he lacked the same confidence.

"What do you think, Dad?"

Mark took a long time to consider his answer. Finally, he said, "I have tried to share her faith, Steve, but I can't. Maybe I haven't seen enough miracles to believe God would work one for you." Now both men had tears in their eyes. "Every day, every step you take, I feel more and more optimistic; but if you ask me if I think you'll make a full recovery, all I can say is we'll have to wait and see. I don't know." Mark smiled. "I do think Olivia will be there for you as long as you need her, and I think your chances will be better if you tap into her hope, faith, and strength."

Steve thought about his dad's answer for a moment. Then he said, "Thanks for being honest with me, Dad. Is that why you and Olivia were so angry at each other right after the shooting? Was that your 'difference of opinion'?"

Mark smiled again and wiped his eyes, "Yeah, son, it was, but we're not angry anymore. I've realized that she truly believes what she said. She's going to make sure you're ok, whether that means a full recovery or learning to live with limitations. She's going to make sure you have a good life, no matter what. She also understands that I wanted to protect you from false hopes."

"I haven't made this decision yet, Dad, but what would you say if I wanted to marry her?"

Mark laughed. "I'd say the same thing if it were any other girl in the world. I hope you have a happy and wonderful life together."

Steve smiled at that. "Thanks, Dad. I have one more question. It's not an easy one for me to ask."

"Take your time, son."

Steve nodded. "I know the bullets missed my vital organs. I know I was busted up bad, but the bones have healed. Where most of the bullets hit, though...well...am I...is there other damage to my...." Steve groaned in frustration. He had to get this question out. He needed to know. "I know I should just be happy to be alive and walking, but, if I were to marry Olivia, could I still have children the, uh, the natural way?"

Mark looked at his son very seriously. "You're asking me if this has left you impotent."

Steve averted his eyes and nodded. Suddenly he understood Olivia's giggles. They were a pleasant way to divert attention from her discomfort. It was her way of avoiding embarrassment.

"Steve, there is no indication of any physical injury that would prevent you from enjoying typical intercourse." For the first time, Steve realized that his father took refuge in big words and medical jargon when discussing a delicate topic. The more syllables he put in his response, the farther away he pushed the uncomfortable discussion.

"The emotional stress of everything that has happened may interfere with your sexual activity for a while, but as you learn to cope with the emotions you must be experiencing, everything should be ok. If for some reason things don't take care of themselves, there are therapists who specialize in sexual dysfunction, and they can help you learn to talk about it so you can work your problems out."

"Is it wrong for me to worry about that?"

Mark shook his head no. "Absolutely not. Son, sexual intimacy is a vital part of most good relationships. Some couples, for whatever reason, manage without it, but they are remarkably few. For everyone else, that bond is essential for a successful marriage. If you are that fond of Olivia, then you should give that part of your relationship some of your concern, but I don't think you need to let it consume you because I don't think there was any injury done."

Steve nodded. "I just want to be able to love her completely, you know?"

"I understand that, Steve," Mark reassured him, "but remember, love comes from the heart, and there are all kinds of ways to make love. If she loves you the way you deserve, the two of you will be able to work it out together."

"The way I deserve, Dad?"

Mark had to swallow a huge lump in his throat. "Son, I am very proud of you. I think you have become an extraordinary man. You're a man of honor and phenomenal strength. I love you as my son, but I am also honored to have you as my friend. After all you have been through, I think you deserve to be the center of someone's universe. If you want that someone to be Olivia, then I hope that in her eyes, the sun rises and sets on you. In my opinion, if she doesn't love you like that, then she simply doesn't love you enough."

Steve was now visibly embarrassed. "Thanks, Dad. Look, Olivia's going to be here any minute. Can you help me get into the shower?"

Mark helped Steve get settled on the shower seat, and pulled the curtain closed for him. He lingered at the door long enough to see Steve's robe come flying over the curtain rod and to hear the water come on. Then he left to prepare breakfast, leaving the door slightly ajar in case his son should call him again.

Steve closed his eyes and reveled in the blast of warm water on his body. He could feel the heat loosening stiff muscles and joints, and it seemed as if the rising steam lifted a weight of grief off his heart. With his dad's input, he felt he had a complete picture of his condition, now, and many of his worries had been put to rest. He felt optimistic. With his dad, his friends, and Olivia, he could handle whatever came his way.

He was also surprised at how openly Mark had expressed his feelings. He'd always known his father loved him, but he'd never had any idea how much Mark respected him. It was at the same time humbling and uplifting to know that the man he had always looked to for direction thought so highly of him. It made him feel as if there was nothing beyond his capability.

It was Thanksgiving Day, and he had so much to be thankful for.