Joan awoke the next morning to sunlight filling her room and setting the warm peach of her walls ablaze with its glow. As she untwisted herself from the sheets and sat up and stretched, she felt well-rested, which was strange after having woken up so many times in the night. It wasn't until she looked at the clock that she realized why she felt so awake. It was after ten.

"Mom!" Joan screamed as she ran down the stairs. She stormed into the kitchen to find her brothers at the breakfast table and her mother at the stove, making pancakes.

"Don't scream. It's Sunday," said Helen.

"Why didn't you wake me up? Visiting hours started at ten. I should be at the hospital by now!"

"Because I thought you could use the sleep, and because Adam will be there all day, so there's plenty of time for you to –"

"But I wanted to be there as soon –"

"I'm not finished! And because you should let his father get there first."

"Why? He got to stay with Adam last night."

"Adam was loopy last night, and besides, I don't think Mr. Rove was spending the night there."

"But –"

"And Joan, you didn't really talk to Mr. Rove last night. You didn't see how upset he was. When I picked him up at his house…" Helen paused, emotion rising in her voice. "He lost his wife a few years ago, Joan…"

"I know."

"And then the hospital calls him and tells him his son is very sick and needs emergency surgery. Can you imagine? Adam is all he has, all he cares about. And all I want you to do is think about somebody besides yourself for a minute."

"I'm thinking about Adam."

"I know you are, and I know you love him, but you're not a parent, and you don't know the kind of love that…" Her voice caught as tears welled up in her eyes.

"Great," Luke griped. "You had to go and make Mom cry. Just when we were about to eat."

"How do you do that?" Joan asked her mother. "I walk in here mad at you, and thirty seconds later I'm the one who feels bad." She slumped sullenly into a chair at the table with her brothers.

Kevin gave her a long look and probed, "So… you're in love with this guy?"

Joan rolled her head forward and raised a sardonic eyebrow at him. "Can we not discuss my love life over breakfast?"

"See! You said 'love.'" He nodded to Luke. "She said it."

Joan heard the stomp of feet up the back porch. The back door opened, and her father walked in, dressed in work clothes and not his usual Sunday morning leisure clothes.

"Oh, good, you made it," Helen called to him from the stove.

"Did you go to work, Dad?" asked Kevin.

"Just for a couple hours," Will replied. "Some things I had to tend to."

Joan looked up at him. "About last night?"

Her father hesitated, but he knew there was no point in keeping it from her. "Yes."

"I hope you put that guy in jail."

Will sighed and sat down at the table next to her. "He's not going to jail, Joan."

"If he weren't a cop but just some other guy who beat up a sick kid, he'd be in jail."

Helen set a plate of pancakes on the table. "Can we not talk about this?" she pleaded. "It's Sunday."

"Mom, what does the day of the week have to do with anything? No one cares." Joan turned back to her father. "I'm right, Dad, aren't I? If he weren't a cop, he'd be in jail."

"Possibly. But he is a cop."

"Was a cop."

Will kept silent as he stabbed a fork into a pancake and dragged it onto his plate.

Joan gawked at him. "Not 'was'? He's getting fired, right, Dad? You're not letting him stay on the force, are you?"

"It's not up to me, Joan."

"So what, he gets some slap on the wrist, and then he's back out there harassing people?"

"He might get suspended for a week, maybe longer, and he'll probably have to attend a class or –"

"Did you say 'might'? You mean he might just go back to work like nothing happened?"

"Joan, these incidents are much more common than you realize..."

"And that makes it OK?"

"…And being a cop is much harder than you realize. Officer Grady works a very tough beat. He deals with violent criminals every day."

"He wasn't dealing with a violent criminal. He was dealing with Adam! Not violent. Not a criminal. Not even able to stand up at the time, if I remember correctly."

"What I'm saying is, that kind of work requires a particular type of attitude, a hardness. There aren't a lot who want to work a beat like Archer Parkway. The older ones get promoted out of there, and the newer, younger ones come in, and those are the guys with the least experience and who only survive if they're suspicious of everyone."

"But Dad --"

"I worked a beat like that once, Joan, years ago, before I made detective. And it got to the point where I didn't think I could go home anymore and hold my little children and be gentle and normal."

"I can't believe you're defending him."

"I'm not defending him. I think Officer Grady crossed the line, but I also know that the line in question is a lot further out than you think it is. So don't be surprised if the police department wants to give him a second chance."

"But what about Adam? Doesn't he deserve some kind of justice?"

"Adam will probably be taken care of by the city."

"What do you mean?"

"They'll reach some kind of settlement."

"A settlement, like, financial settlement? How does that happen?"

"The mayor doesn't like it when headlines hit about people getting pushed around by cops. This one certainly wouldn't look good, an innocent kid with acute appendicitis whose father is an employee of the department. Especially since several witnesses saw the officer strike Adam in the chest while he was lying in a hospital bed. The city will want to keep it quiet and settle it quickly to head off the bad publicity that a lawsuit brings."

"So what you're saying is, Adam gets money for getting beat up?"

"This is all speculation, honey. I don't know yet what's going to happen."

"But you think Adam will get money."

"That's how this usually works."

"How much money?"

"That will depend on how good an attorney Adam's father hires."

"But, ballpark figure, what does a good night's harassment usually get you?"

"If Adam sustained injuries, or if the harassment exacerbated his illness, it could go high. But probably not more than a hundred thousand."

"A hundred thousand?!"

"Joan, I really don't know. There are so many variables, and no guarantees."

"Dad, you don't understand. The Roves are really struggling. Adam has to work full time all summer to support them. They're barely getting by. A hundred thousand dollars would change his life!"

"I know."

"I mean, this could be what allows Adam to go to college."

"He knows, Joan," said Helen, nodding slowly, a tiny smile playing on her lips.

Joan looked back and forth between her parents, and that was when she realized why her father was telling her all of this. She stood up. "I have to go to the hospital."

"You have to eat breakfast first," said her mother.

"Joan, this isn't something you should trouble Adam with right now," Will advised. "Let him recuperate. Wait a couple days."

"Sure." She grabbed a pancake off the plate and stuffed it in her mouth as she ran upstairs to get dressed.

Joan drove herself to the hospital. She didn't want anyone going with her. She wanted to be alone with Adam.

She went in the front entrance this time, avoiding the emergency room and all the bad memories it stirred up in her when she thought about it. She took the elevator up to the fourth floor and checked in at the nurses' station. A woman at the desk directed her to room 412.

She found Adam sitting propped up against the raised back of the hospital bed. He was wearing the white and blue hospital gown she remembered from the night before. A white blanket was pulled up to his waist, and an IV tube still ran into his left arm. He was speaking softly to his father, who sat in a chair on the opposite side of Adam's bed. Both father and son looked much better than they had the night before. Behind Mr. Rove a large window let sunlight flood the room, and the picture of the two of them was almost cheerful.

"Good morning," Joan greeted them. She stood in the doorway, not sure if she was interrupting.

Adam looked over at her and smiled. "Jane!"

"Hi, Joan," said Mr. Rove. He stood up, as if expecting her. "I was just on my way out. I gotta go get Adam some stuff he wants from home."

Joan was relieved, because she really didn't want her conversation with Adam to take place in front of his father. But then she remembered her mother's words, and guilt crept over her, and she said quickly, "Mr. Rove, you don't have to leave."

He turned to Adam, who gave him a look that said in no uncertain terms that he did indeed have to leave. Mr. Rove nodded at his son and smiled.

"I'll give you kids some time alone."

"Thanks, Dad," said Adam.

Joan now finally walked into the room. As Mr. Rove passed her on his way out, he said softly to her, "See if you can get him to eat something."

She nodded, and as she walked up to Adam's bed she noticed a bowl and spoon sitting on a rolling tray table. The bowl was filled with green gelatin.

"They give you Jello for breakfast?" she asked.

"Chah, it's the only thing they'll let me eat. And it's not even good Jello."

Joan gazed at him, taking in how good he looked, how good it felt to see him healthy. His face, which had been so flushed all evening and then so frighteningly pale after his surgery, had returned to its normal color. His dark hair was cutely disheveled, a few errant curls sticking straight up. He looked tired, perhaps a bit groggy from medication, perhaps just worn out from a traumatic night, but other than that, he looked like her Adam.

"But if they want you to eat Jello, you should eat it," she said.

"I'll eat later. I want to talk to you."

"Yeah, I need to talk to you, too."

She walked around his bed and sat down in the chair.

Adam looked at her, confused. "What are you doing?"

"Um… sitting?"

"I mean, what are you doing over there?"

Joan smiled apologetically. She got up and sat down instead on the edge of his bed, facing him. Adam leaned forward to kiss her but then winced and reached for his stomach.

"Oh!" Joan cried. "Are you OK?"

"I'm fine," he groaned, leaning back with a frustrated sigh. "I'm not fragile, Jane. I just have a small incision right here." He touched the lower right side of his stomach. "But other than that, I'm good. So come here." He crooked a finger at her invitingly.

Joan knew that the incision wasn't all that was wrong with him. He probably hadn't looked in a mirror that morning, she guessed, but she could see the red swelling on his forehead, where his face had hit the pavement when the cop threw him down. Anger welled up in her, but she suppressed it for the moment and leaned into him to kiss him.

Adam reached up to cup her face with his right hand, and his soft lips opened up and drew her in, and then, to her surprise, she felt his tongue gently emerging to lick at her own. He tasted sweet, like the gelatin he'd been trying to eat. It was a very intimate kiss on Adam's part, as if acknowledging everything they'd been through together, and it was more passionate than Joan was expecting from someone who'd just had surgery. Not wanting him to get overexcited, she gave him a closing peck and pulled away. As much as she'd been craving a kiss like that, she now had other things on her mind.

The disappointment was apparent in his voice and on his face. "Jane…" he whispered, his hand still reaching out to touch her cheek and then finally dropping away. "What's the matter?"

She cocked her head toward the open door of his room. "It's not like we have a lot of privacy right now. Besides, I…"

"What?"

"I just… I'm so angry about what happened to you."

Adam closed his eyes and dropped his head. He gathered his thoughts for a moment and then looked up at her. "I can't rehash last night right now. I'm not ready."

"I'm sorry, I just…"

"I'm OK, Jane. Really. And… we're OK, right?"

"Of course we're OK. We're better than OK. I…"

"What?" he asked, his eyes searching hers.

"I feel like we're even…"

"Closer than we were before?" he whispered.

"Yeah."

Adam smiled softly. "Yeah, I feel that, too."

"And I…"

"What?" he asked, more intensely now, almost eager.

"Well…" She stopped herself. "You don't want to talk about last night."

Disappointed again, Adam dropped his gaze, but then he brightened and looked back up at her. "Actually, there is one thing about it that I do want to talk to you about. See, the thing is, as totally bent as last night was, I woke up this morning feeling like, like something…"

"Like something good would come out of it?"

He smiled. "I love it when you read my mind." He took her hands in his, and one of his thumbs drew a circle in her palm.

"Adam, that's exactly what I'm talking about. Something good comes out of everything. And I know it sounds crazy, but I've learned that things work out for the best, no matter how bad it looks, and you just don't always see it at first, but it's there. And I didn't see it last night, but then this morning I talked to my dad and –"

"Your dad?" The expression on Adam's face changed completely. Now he just looked confused.

"You need to get a lawyer, Adam."

"What?" His brow furrowed, and he let go of her hands. "That's really not where I was going at all."

"I'm serious. You have to sue the police department."

"Whoa, Jane, slow down. What are you talking about?"

"I talked to my dad this morning, and he thinks that cop is going to get away with what he did to you. He's not going to get fired or anything."

For a brief moment, a shadow passed over Adam's eyes. His mouth opened to say something, but he was silent, so she continued.

"I don't know what's going to happen to him, actually," she admitted. "But the police department will have to pay, if you file a lawsuit. They'll settle to avoid publicity."

Adam looked at her steadily. He seemed to consider what she was saying, and she could see the wheels turning in his head. He closed his mouth and then opened it again to speak. "I'm not suing the police department, Jane. That's ridiculous."

"But… it could be a lot of money."

Adam shook his head. "The only people who get rich from lawsuits are lawyers."

"You've been hanging around Grace too much."

"Grace is right about a lot of things."

"I don't think she'd want you to take this lying down. I mean, what that cop did to you, this is like some kind of civil rights violation or something. Don't you think so?"

"I can't sue the police department. My dad works there, or, is trying to work there. He wants to get his job back. How would it look if he sued his employer?"

"Adam, with a big settlement, your dad might not have to work."

"It's not just about having to work. He wants to work."

"But nobody wants to be a janitor."

As soon as she saw the look on his face, Joan realized what she'd said. Adam turned his gaze to the window and swallowed.

Joan tried to cover. "I mean, not that there's anything wrong with being a janitor, I just mean that it wasn't, like, his career goal… was it?"

Adam wouldn't look at her. He stared down at his hands. "My dad may not have a cool important job like your dad, but he always worked hard to provide for his family."

"Adam --"

"Jane --" He looked up at her as he cut her off, the tone of his voice telling her to let him finish. "He's always taken care of me. And now he has to sit home and watch me go off to work, watch me come home late and tired and not get my homework done. He hates sitting around the house, watching TV, feeling useless. It's only been a month, and he's already miserable." Adam paused, swallowed, and looked down. "He started drinking again…"

Joan covered her mouth. "Oh, Adam, I didn't know…"

"I didn't want…" He stopped, avoiding her gaze, tears in his eyes. When Joan tried to take his hands, he pulled them away and crossed his arms. But with the IV making this uncomfortable, he lay his left arm back down and with his right hand grabbed the tray table and rolled it in between them. He looked at the Jello and frowned, then cleared his throat and asked, "What time is it?"

Joan looked at the clock on the bedside table and replied, "Eleven thirty."

"I wonder what time lunch comes. They said I could have solid food for lunch. I'm starving."

"Why don't you have some Jello?"

"I don't want Jello."

"Do you want me to go get you something? I bet they're still serving breakfast in the cafeteria."

"Yeah, some eggs and hash-browns would be great."

"You think it's OK for you to eat that?"

"I don't know. I'm just hungry. I'd even take some yogurt or something. Anything, as long as it's not Jello."

Joan slid off the bed and stood up. "OK, I'll be back in a minute."

Adam didn't say anything else. He had already turned his head to look out the window.