She moved around the hospital in kind of a fog. Woody led her by the hand, and she was aware that he was speaking, talking to nurses and doctors in hushed, serious tones.

Finally, they stopped outside of a door into one of the rooms. Woody took her shoulders gently in his hands and spoke. "Jordan?" She shook her head slightly as if to wake herself from sleep. "This is your dad's room. The doctor says he's asleep. And he's on oxygen, so I just want you to be prepared, okay?"

She reached out for his hand, and he took it. She looked up at him in fear. "He's going to be okay, Jordan," he reassured her and led her into the room.

Despite Woody's warning, she could feel the tears well in her eyes at the sight of her father in the hospital room. He seemed so fragile lying there in a tangle of wires and tubes. It was a heart attack, the doctors said. He was lucky; it had been mild, but she cried the silent tears of a child who has suddenly been faced with the mortality of an aging parent.

She sat in the chair beside his bed and rested her hand on top of his and watched him sleep for a moment. "I should have taken better care of him."

"It's not your fault, Jordan."

"I saw the kind of junk he's been eating, and I never said a word. At lunch today..."

He cut her off gently. "Jordan, Max is a grown man. He's responsible for his own choices. He'd tell you the same thing himself." He stood there with her for a long while, and then she felt him lift her up. She collapsed against him, and he slipped his arm around her waist. "Come on, Jordan. Let's get you something to drink."

They sat out in the hallway and he held her while they waited for Max to wake up. The even rise and fall of Woody's chest and the steady beating of his heart were comforting. He stroked her back and spoke to her in calm and soothing tones until the nurse came out of Max's room and told them that he was stirring. Jordan jumped from her chair and ran in.

His eyelids fluttered open as she crossed to his bed.

"Jordan..." His voice was weak, but his eyes were bright. "Am I a grandfather yet?" She laughed and smiled down at him.

"I must be really bad off. You didn't sock me in the nose."

"You're going to be fine, Dad. Just no more bacon double cheeseburgers, okay?"

He sighed mournfully. "Okay, okay. Where's Woody?"

"He's out in the hall. He's been here the whole time."

"You know? I was thinking about you right before I collapsed."

"Oh, great."

He shook his head slowly from side to side. "You had nothing to do with it, Jordan," he said with a small smile. "I was thinking about our lunch today, and I was thinking about you...how determined you are. You never quit."

She snorted. "Where have you been for the last ten years of my life?"

"No, I was thinking about when you were in college and you were failing organic chemistry. You had to pass, or you were afraid you'd never get into med school. So, you came home for spring break. All your friends were going to the beach, and you locked yourself in your room with your books, living on caffeine and corn chips because all you ever wanted to do was be a doctor. And every weekend that semester you'd come home while your friends were all out partying. You made an A in organic chemistry, if I'm not mistaken."

"A plus."

"You never quit when something really matters to you." He gave her hand a squeeze, and his eye lids drooped.

"Get some rest, Dad," she said and kissed his forehead before he drifted back into sleep.

She walked back into the hall to find Woody waiting anxiously there. "How is he?"

"Good. He's resting. Look, I'm going to stay here tonight. There's no point both of us being exhausted. Why don't you go on home?"

He took her hand in his. "I'm not going anywhere, Jordan."

She could no longer keep the tears back, then, and she fell into his arms. He whispered soft words to her and held her until the tears subsided.

He didn't go anywhere, not that night or the next day. Not until Max sent her home that afternoon. He stayed with her, sensing when she needed him to talk and when she needed him only to hold her hand.

They drove home together. Exhausted, she entered their darkened bedroom and climbed into bed without bothering to undress. He stretched out beside her and curled himself around her, stroking her hair and laying gentle kisses on her shoulder.

She loved him. She loved him completely, and she finally understood what people meant when they said they loved so much it hurt. It did hurt, because when you love that strongly and that deeply, you understand how fragile and fleeting it can be.

She turned to him. He propped up on one elbow, and they looked at each other wordlessly for a long moment before he leaned forward and pressed his lips questioningly against hers.

She responded with building urgency. He eased her onto her back and slowly unbuttoned her shirt, leaving a trail of kisses along the hollow between her breasts and down her taut belly. She let out a little hum of pleasure as he tugged at her pants and pulled them off in one motion.

The trail continued down the curve of her inner thigh to the spot behind her knee that always made her go limp. He moved his knees to either side of her hips, then, and he pulled his shirt over his head as she worked at his belt buckle. His eyes didn't leave hers as he lowered himself and slipped gently inside her. She moaned softly and curved her body to his.

She lost herself; all doubts and fears faded. And later, as she lay in his arms, she smiled up at him, and he wiped away one stray tear with his thumb.

It would not always be perfect or easy, but it was good and true.

She loved him.