The winter passed and Jordan's belly grew with each passing week. From behind, it was difficult to see that she was pregnant. In the front, it looked like she had swallowed a beach ball that someone just kept expanding. Everyone at the morgue was extra careful with her, but still, she tried to continue work as normally as possible...given the fact that she was now six months pregnant.

"Hey," said Garrett, one morning after she had entered her office and began her paperwork. "Feel like an autopsy?" He was standing in her doorway, grinning. Only he and Woody...and maybe Nigel, knew that her morning sickness had not passed. It stayed with her the duration of the pregnancy and some days was morning, noon, and evening sickness.

Jordan looked up and smiled. "This morning, yes. What do we have?"

"Bullet wound victim in two. I'll help, if you want me to."

"Be right there."

Jordan changed into her scrubs and joined Garrett in autopsy two. "So you're feeling good this morning?" he asked her.

"So far, so good. At least junior or junior-ess isn't kicking up too much of a problem now. We'll see as the day goes by."

"How are things going between you and Woody?"

"That's good, too. He stays a couple of nights a week. Goes with me to the doctor's. We see each other as much as our schedules allow."

"And he's okay with this?"

"No...you know what he wants."

Garrett did. He knew Woody wanted to marry Jordan now. Jordan was still holding off... for some reason. Her latest excuse was that she was too pregnant now to find a nice dress....and forget a honeymoon. Garrett knew that she loved Woody, but was still running in her own way. Woody was being patient, but Garrett also knew his patience was wearing thin.

"Why don't you just give in and put the poor boy out of his misery?"

"Not now....it's not a good time."

Garrett pulled Jordan around to face him. Determinedly, he lifted her face shield and replied, "That doesn't cut it. That's not the reason and you know it. What's going on Jo?"

"Yes, it—"

"No. It's not. I know you, and you're scared of something. What is it?"

Jordan lowered her eyes and looked at the floor. "It's a lot of things, Garrett. I'm still afraid that I'm not what he needs...that he'll regret marrying me in the long run. That I'll be a mistake in his life." She lowered her voice to a whisper to try to control the tears. "And that makes me afraid that he'll leave...and I'll be alone again. Mom left. Then Dad. Everyone that I loved...that was my family....left me. And I just don't think I could handle it if Woody did."

"So it's better to never really commit to him at all than risk having what probably will be the thing you desire most in your life?"

Jordan gave him a puzzled look. "I'm not following..."

"A family, Jordan. A family. Your family. Woody. You. The baby. Is it worth the risk? That's the question you have to answer. Woody already has...now you have to decide for yourself."

She nodded. "I see...."

"You need to decide. Finish up here and go home. Think about it. Give the boy and yourself an answer."

Jordan helped Garrett complete the autopsy and then drove herself home. She had changed into her maternity jeans and a shirt and was beginning to start supper when the doorbell rang. It was Nigel.

"Nigel, what on earth are you doing here?"

"Jordan, love, you need to come with me."

"Why? Is there something wrong at the morgue? Garrett?"

Nigel reached out and put his arm around her. "No, love. It's Woody. There's been another shooting...."

That was all Jordan heard. She grabbed her purse and followed the lanky Brit down the steps, running to the passenger side of the car.

"Hurry Nigel," she yelled. She buckled quickly. Then she realized. She didn't know if they were going to the hospital....or the morgue. She swallowed hard and tried to make her lips form the question. Looking over at Nigel, who was pushing well past the speed limit and dodging the Boston five o'clock traffic, she managed to get out, "Where..."

"The hospital. But I have no bloody idea how he's doing. Garrett is on his way over now."

Jordan grabbed her cell phone and dialed Garrett's number. There was no answer.

"He's probably had to turn it off in the hospital, Jo. We'll be there in a minute. Hang on." Nigel floored it again.

Jordan flipped her phone shut and shoved it in her purse. Nervously, she chewed her bottom lip, her mind flying in a million directions at once. How badly is he shot? How many times? Where did it happen? Oh, God...what if he's critical...and he doesn't.... Her mind cut her off there. It couldn't take her to a place that was too painful to go. Oh God...if Woody's okay...if he makes it, I swear I will marry him tomorrow, God. I swear. I'll marry him and love him for the rest of my life, the very best way I can...Oh, please just let him live.

Nigel glanced over at Jordan nervously. She hadn't said a word since hanging up her cell phone. He had no clue she was bargaining with her Maker. He swung in the parking lot and parked in the emergency area. Jordan gave him no chance to help her out of the car. As soon as the car slowed to a halt, she flung open the door and ran into the emergency room. Breathlessly, she approached the nurse at the desk, who promptly motioned for a wheelchair.

"No, NO, I'm not in labor...I'm here for...here for..." Oh hell, she thought, if I tell her I'm just Woody's friend or his fiancé, they won't tell me a damn thing and won't let me go back because I won't be considered the friggin' next of kin... "my husband, Woodrow Hoyt," she finished.

"Oh, Mrs. Hoyt," the nurse greeted her. Jordan thought the name sounded strange to her ears..Mrs. Hoyt?. "You're husband's the back room. Take this hall and turn right..."

Jordan didn't wait for her to finish. She ran down the hall, took a right, and bumped clean into Garrett, nearly knocking him down.

"He's back there, Jo," Garrett said, pointing. "And he's..."

Again, Jordan didn't wait. She ran down the rest of the hall and flung open the curtain of the small cubicle that held Woody. He was sitting on the exam table, calmly rebuttoning his shirt. On his head was a cut, roughly three inches long, held shut with a butterfly bandage. Jordan swallowed hard. She could hear the blood pounding in her ears and for a moment the room swam. Then she felt Woody's arms go around her, catching her before she fell into a dead faint on the floor.

"Hang on...let me get a doctor..." he said, reaching for the call button on the bed.

"No...No.. I'm okay, honestly." And she was. She was hugging him back, her face pressed against his half-closed shirt, just breathing in the scent of him...and thanking God that he was okay.... "I was just worried...so afraid...."

Woody held her tightly, feeling her tremble. Realizing what her dilemma was, he backed over to the table and propped against it, just holding her, stroking her back and hair, willing her heart to quit beating so hard and for her nerves to calm down.

"Shhhh...it's okay. I'm okay..."

"Tell me what happened?" she asked.

There was no way Woody was going to tell her about the shoot out that he had just been in. She could learn the details later. So as much as he could, he sanitized the tale, without deliberately lying to her. "There was a domestic call I had to answer....just got in the way of a bullet. But I stopped it with my head....so nothing was hurt," he replied, joking with her, trying to get her to laugh or at least smirk a little.

"How bad?"

"Well, the husband was shot numerous..."

"Not them, dummy. You. How badly are you hurt?" Her face was still buried in his shirt, her arms still tight around him."

"Not bad...just got a good grazing. No stitches even. Just a band aid and permission to stay home the rest of today and tomorrow."

It was then Woody felt her sigh and her shoulders sag in relief....and felt her tears wet the front of him. He tried to lift her chin and look at her face, but she wouldn't let him, just pulling him closer to her, as if still trying to convince herself that he was okay...he was there...and he wasn't leaving her this way.

Just like he did when her father died, Woody simply held her and let her cry it out. He wasn't quite sure right now whether to chalk her reaction up to hormones or fear, but he just held her. When her tears subsided, he gently cupped the side of her face and lifted her eyes to meet his. "I'm okay, Jordan. What gives? You're a doctor. You could tell the moment you looked at me in the doorway that I was fine. What's wrong?"

Jordan bit her lip. She wanted to tell him that when she saw him in the emergency room, she wasn't looking at him like a doctor...she was looking at him like a woman in love...with him. But the words wouldn't come. Her heart was too full...

"Jordan, what's wrong?" he repeated.

"I....I...was scared Woody. I was scared you were really hurt or worse...and I don't know what I would do if you were...how I could go on...I love you so much..." Now that the words had started, she couldn't stop them. "Do you think that's enough? Do you think that is enough to keep us together – you, me, and the baby – for the rest of our lives? You won't regret marrying me? I'll try, Woody, I swear, I will. I want to make this work... but I'm so afraid. So afraid one day you'll leave. Because of me. And I can't imagine my life without you. I don't want to. I'll marry you tomorrow, if you're still sure that's what you want...I love you." Her eyes were full of tears that were threatening to spill over and run down her cheeks.

Woody held his breath as he heard her admission. So that is it...he thought she really was scared that I would regret marrying her. And now she doesn't care...she just wants me in her life. Forever. A huge grin crossed Woody's face. "You're serious? You'd marry me tomorrow?"

She nodded, not trusting her voice to go on much further.

He hugged her back to him, kissing the top of her head before he claimed her lips again. "Well...I think we can wait a few days...you need to get a dress...I need to get moved in..." They chuckled together, Woody still holding her. "You were really scared, weren't you? You were really scared I had gotten hurt."

Jordan nodded, still resting her head against his chest, feeling deeply satisfied that his heart was beating reassuringly under her ear. "Whatever gave you that idea?" she joked back.

"Your feet."

"My feet?" Jordan looked up at him like he was nuts, only to find his eyes observing her feet. She followed his line of vision to the floor.

She was barefoot.In her haste to get to the hospital...in her urgency to make sure he was all right, she had forgotten to put on her shoes.

Epilogue

Two weeks later, in the living room of Garrett's home, Woody and Jordan were married by Paul, a priest that Jordan had known since she was in high school. The ceremony was small, warm, and attended by only close friends from the morgue and the police force. Woody thought Jordan had never looked lovelier in her white dress and with flowers in her hair. The reception was a bigger affair, held at the Pogue. It was good to have a joyous event at the bar, as the last big occasion that drew most folks there had been Max's wake.

As babies go, the Cavanaugh-Hoyt infant was no different from any of the rest, having its own timetable and own agenda. When Jordan was just two days shy of the beginning of her ninth month of pregnancy, her water broke on a Saturday morning. Fortunately, she and Woody both were home and made it to the hospital in plenty of time. On June 28, Maxwell Garrett Hoyt was born, all eight pounds and seven ounces of him, crying lustily at his entrance to the world . Jordan kept her promise to Woody that she would not use the names "Woodrow" or "Wilson" in the child's name. Like his father, Little Max, as he would be known as for years to come, had a crystalline pair of blue eyes. Like the grandfather he was named after, his hair was blonde – making him the picture of Irish lineage. And he had his mother's smile, his lips curling up in a devilish manner before breaking into a full grin.