28 Moving Forwards …
Gregory Dolan was a psychologist; thirty-two years old, he had dirty blonde hair, wire-rimmed glasses and was wearing a beautiful, crease-free, black suit and white shirt with a navy tie. He was also what the state would call an expert witness and had been sitting watching his client, for want of a better word, for the last twenty minutes as the young man looked at crime scene photos, seeing the carnage he had caused.
After the voluntary admission of guilt to Detective Banks and Agent Wagner, Large had changed his plea. The questioning had stopped and, for the last two weeks, he had been undergoing psychiatric and psychological assessment again. Gregory, experienced in working for either the defence or prosecution, knew the accused which, he guessed, was another way of thinking of him, had the ability to be one of three people or identities, and that it was always extremely clear just who you were speaking with. He also knew that he was the second psychologist to see the man, the first one, a woman, asking to be removed from the case after a week of sessions.
Greg had been introduced to an extremely nervous young man who said that he was Matthew Little, and had then watched in fascination as that identity retreated on production of the photos. The person who replaced him, Dominic, had taken the sheaf of pictures and shuffled through them as if they were someone's vacation shots.
From the information he had read, Greg was sure that Mathew, Dominic, Nicholas, whichever persona he chose, was a fetishist, his particular fetish being long blonde hair. No other women had been in any danger from him, he had been able to spend weeks and months working in a hairdressing salon without feeling the compulsion to kill any one of his clients, and the psychologist was already certain that an insanity bid would not work with this weirdo because of that restraint.
He blanked the word, he had to remain focussed and clear-headed, even if the entire world thought that Little or Large was a weirdo it was something that he couldn't admit to.
The photos were back on the table now, but Dominic was still staring at them or, more accurately, the top one.
"Who was she?" Doctor Dolan wasn't too sure himself without looking at the back of the picture, but he had a feeling that this man, knowing every woman intimately, would never forget their faces.
"Tanisha, her name is Tanisha Collins, she's from San Francisco." The voice was confident, almost mocking and Gregory knew that the picture had been left on top for a purpose. The victim wasn't in his remit, there would be another court appearance, another set of witnesses, and experts, to try this man for the killings he had been accused of further up state.
"Very well then, how about this young lady?" He shuffled the pictures, picked one and glanced at the name printed on the reverse before speaking, sure of his ground this time.
The man across the table laughed, it wasn't a pleasant sound under any circumstances, but it chilled him all the more because it accompanied the gruesome pictures and Greg realised that he was now in the presence of the third person, Nicholas.
"She worked for the cop, can you believe that? I didn't realise it at the time, but he knew her. I wish she'd said something, I would have delivered her to his door." He picked up the picture again and looked at it. The woman had been nice, friendly, right up to the end when she had to go see her blasted cat.
"I killed her pet, did you know that? Snivelling, smelly little rat of a creature! She screamed when she saw it, knew she was as good as dead herself, Nadine, that was her name. Stupid bitch, they all were, stupid, stupid bitches."
"You moved her after you killed her?"
"No." Nicholas looked at Greg with distain, "I moved her first. Once I'd killed the cat I knocked her out, took her to the car, put her in the trunk and drove to Toluca. Then I killed her." He was no longer talking to anyone, his words were for him alone, and his eyes were dreamy, he was reliving the experience, bringing up pictures in his mind of Nadine Browton and how she died.
Gregory looked at the man before him and wondered why he had done as he had. Why he had killed all these women, and then, almost as if he had spoken his question out loud, he got his answer.
"She was going to dump me, told me she'd had a nice time, but didn't date customers." For a moment he was lost again, but this time although his eyes were still dreamy there was hurt and determination showing there as well.
"I knew that they all were going to leave me. I couldn't let that happen, I couldn't let her leave me, so I killed her, killed her and took the best part of her home with me."
Gregory shook his head almost imperceptibly; the compulsion to kill would be where this case would inevitably focus. The argument would be centred on whether he was sane, and therefore in control of his feelings, or insane and controlled by them instead. Because there was now a guilty plea the prosecution didn't have to prove his actions, just disprove the defense's assertions. Greg knew these would be that their client was unable to overrule his murderous urges and was, therefore, entitled to spend his days in a mental institution and, if deemed fit by specialists, be released back into the general populous some time in the future. Having seen the dream-like state he understood why the insanity plea would be hotly sought, however, having also heard and seen the reaction to the photos, Doctor Dolan knew that the compulsion had been grasped willingly and it had always been in the prisoner's power to stop had he wished to.
ooo
The silence of the morning was broken by a wailing which echoed through every room in the house. It sounded as if someone, somewhere, thought their world was about to end, and was letting everyone know about it.
Jo put down her cup of coffee, tried not to smile at someone else's distress and then made her way towards the stairs. She knew that the nanny would get to Jayden before she did and rock him back off to sleep, but she was still going to go see her son, just to make sure that he was all right.
The nanny, a paediatric nurse who had decided that she preferred looking after just one baby rather than a whole ward full, had started caring for him the day after Jayden came home from the hospital. The first twenty-four hours, etched forever on her memory, had been a time that Jo had only wanted to spend with her immediate family, and so the young woman had agreed to arrive when she was needed, and been on a retainer to tie her to the Sloans for a little over three weeks.
Jo stood in the doorway to the nursery, delighted with the job that the interior designer had done and watched as the competent young woman soothed her son, gently stroking his face and making sure that he was still dry and comfortable.
It all seemed so natural now, so common-place, but that first day, when she had, at last, been able to place Jayden in his car seat ready for the journey home she'd felt as if her heart would stop at any moment.
"You're sure that this is the quickest way home?" Sitting in the back of the new station-wagon, bought because of its safety for family use, Jo had been peppering Steve with questions ever since they had left the hospital.
"Honey, trust me, I have been travelling to and from Community General since the day I was born, I know this is the best way to go." He had told her afterwards that although he was nervous too, she was giving off waves of uncertainty.
They had pulled up in front of the house, the car containing their ever-present guards' right behind them. Juan had been waiting by the door, opening it as soon as he saw the baby carrier being taken from the vehicle. Steve held the handle in one hand and cradled the entire seat in the other. He strode, quickly, but carefully, into the house, neither of them wanting their son to get chilled or, more worrying, spotted by anyone.
Ten minutes later they were sitting in the morning room, Jayden, fast asleep, was still in his chair, and the two of them had just looked at each other. Her hands had been clammy, she was watching her son's every move, his chest as it rose and fell, his eyes as they moved beneath his lids, his mouth as it sucked on his pacifier. She saw the soft brown hair as if for the first time. Darker than his dad's but lighter than hers. His eyes, a deep brown now, were hidden, but his pale complexion, surely paler than when they had left the NICU, concerned her, and she reached across and placed the back of one finger against his cheek, relieved to find it warm and soft to the touch.
"Are you sure he didn't shrink since he left the hospital?" Steve looked at his son and she could see the wonder in his eyes. "Only he looked so much bigger in his isolette."
Finally she had been able to relax a little, laughing at her husband's comment. "Just look at that picture on the mantle. If you are thinkin' he's small now, he was tiny then." The photo, taken the day after Jayden had been born, showed how small and dependent on all the machinery he had been. Now that same child was fast asleep in front of them, at home, in Beverly Hills. He was a happy, healthy boy, breathing on his own, taking a proper feed every four hours, filling far too many diapers for his mom's liking, and being the baby he should have been before medicine had had to intervene to save his life.
They had sat; the two of them for another ten minutes or so and then Daniel had joined them. He was leaving the house again quite happily, having finally decided to make the most of life while he had the chance, not hide away from it as he had been doing. This time he had been to the mall, buying two soft toys for his brother and a beautiful bunch of flowers for his mom. They had felt, the three of them, that everything was going to be just fine, but then Jayden had moved a little and begun to cry. All the expertise gained in the NICU was instantly forgotten, their baby was crying, there was no one to help them out, and he was crying!
Now Jo was able to laugh about it, but at the time they had definitely panicked. All he'd needed was a clean diaper and a bottle. Once he got what he had been asking for Jayden had snuggled down in his momma's arms and gone right back to sleep and she, totally exhausted, had placed him lovingly back in his seat and fallen asleep on the sofa next to him only finding out later that Daniel and Steve had then sat and watched the two of them sleep instead of just one.
Going quietly into the room Jo watched as her son drifted back off into the land of his dreams as she gently touched the tiny fingers just visible over the top of his covers. She knew he would spend most of his time asleep to start with, although already he was staying awake for a little longer in the morning, and again in the evening, but she wished with all her heart that she could spend time just chatting with him, playing with him, being with him and, without wishing her life away, she counted the days until that could happen.
The arrival of Rae and Jesse's housekeeper next door, and the knowledge that their family of two, which had become three, was about to be four, had spurred Jo on to employing a complete staff for her own home. Steve hadn't been all that enthusiastic at first, but after they sat and chatted about it for a while he could see the sense in it. There was no way Juan could keep house, cook, help with Jayden, and still have even a moment to himself, and so, once the ideal nanny had been found, a housekeeper and a part-time maid had also been hired.
The housekeeper, in charge of meals and cleaning, worked five days a week, leaving Juan to cook over the weekend, and taking charge when he took his two days off on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. The maid, who was also the housekeeper's daughter, worked on Mondays and Fridays, to help tidy up after the weekend and also to prepare for it.
Juan had taken over the household finances, dealing with the suppliers of anything and everything to do with the house and gardens, and had also begun chauffeuring not only Daniel to school but also Jo and Jayden anywhere they needed to go.
The atmosphere, slightly strange at first, was now getting to be relaxed and comfortable. Each member of staff knew what their duties were, they didn't encroach into other areas, and Jo was finally seeing her house used in the way it had been designed. It was now a home, serving a happy and content family group.
ooo
The room was quiet, too quiet really, but Steve had no idea what to say and so he continued to look down at his hands, wishing that he were anywhere other than where he was right now.
"No, that's not true."
"I beg your pardon, Captain?" Lauren looked directly at him, not sure if he realised he had spoken.
The look on his face gave her the answer and, smiling slightly, she spoke again. "I have a feeling you were thinking out loud."
"Oh." Beneath the surface he could feel his unease increase. He didn't know what he'd said, but as he had been contemplating not being here he was pretty sure it wasn't good. "What … what did I say, exactly?"
"That something wasn't true." Again she looked at him and saw the conflict in his eyes, the stiff, unbending way he was sitting and her heart went out to him. "Captain, I know this is difficult for you, you're used to being the one asking the questions, the one getting information from someone else. I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable, or worse, make you wish you were elsewhere, but I do want to help you."
"Yes, I know, but …" He trailed off, this session was an hour long, if he didn't get himself sorted out it would be over before it had hardly begun.
"Captain, I know I've said this before, but it bears repeating. Even though I have worked with both Rae and Jesse, this is a clean slate. Nothing that has been said by them, or by you, will impinge on any treatment I recommend to any of you. And of course everything is in the strictest confidence."
"Oh, yes, I know that, I … well, I wouldn't have started this if I thought otherwise that's not the problem."
"I see, if you don't mind me asking then, what is?" The tape was running on the side of her desk, Steve had nodded when she'd mentioned it, and she was glad of its presence, enabling her to watch and try and understand the man before her who was finding their third meeting so hard. The first two sessions had helped her to find his place in the world, looking at his family, his friendships, but not what was troubling him enough to need to see her. This session would be, she hoped, the first time that Steve would open up and let some of his feelings out.
"I guess part of it is what you said, about me asking rather than being asked, but it's more than that." He paused, but the interrogator in him could see that Lauren wasn't going to intervene this time; she wanted him to do the talking. He needed to talk, there was no doubt about that, but he didn't want to have to relive everything over and over again. Eventually, knowing the only thing to do was to attack the problem head on he began to speak.
"I'm good at what I do, I wouldn't do it otherwise, and I like everything to run smoothly. It seldom does, but when you're a cop you get used to that. Lately though I've felt I have very little control over any aspect of my life."
"I see, and that bothers you. In your profession I can understand how you have to go with the flow so to speak, but at home, with your family, is that what you're really meaning?"
Steve just shook his head, he wasn't explaining himself at all well, if he was giving evidence he would have been ridiculed by now with the defending counsel ripping him to shreds.
"It's not just home, it's more than that, but you know about Jayden, about the guy who's been stalking Jo, and that is all a big part of it ... Look at me," he opened his hands showing the large palms to the petite, black haired woman before him, "I'm a cop, a homicide cop, I deal with murder, robbery, every day of the week, but I can't protect my wife, I can't stop her from being terrified in her own home." To his horror he felt tears well up in his eyes and, standing quickly, strode over to the window.
"Captain Sloan … Steve, you're trying to control the uncontrollable. It's no one's fault your son was born early, and I'm sure that your father has told you there was nothing you could have done to prevent it." She wasn't getting through, the tall man's body language told her that, he was standing straight, but every muscle was taut, every nerve ending was jangling and Lauren realised just how close to the edge he actually was.
"There is a lunatic out there," he gestured with his right hand, sweeping it in an arc across the city laid out before him, "a lunatic who wants to hurt the woman I love most in the entire world. I have the unlimited resources of the LAPD at my disposal and I have no idea where he is. If he … if he gets too …" He paused, the awfulness of what he was thinking too terrible to actually say, "I'll kill him, with my bare hands, I swear I'll kill him." The release of just that little bit of emotion seemed to cause Steve's shoulders to droop and he turned, the pain in his face, his eyes, almost unbearable to see.
"He will make a mistake, you know that, or at least the cop in you knows that. He's way too cocky now, and when he makes the mistake, those unlimited resources will be there to catch him. Captain, it doesn't have to be you."
Although she hadn't said it in so many words Steve knew what she meant and also knew she was right. He didn't have to be the one to catch Wayne; in fact the chances were stacked against it being that way. Wayne may be big headed, but he wasn't a fool, he would keep away from cops, any cops, besides he only preyed on women and children. Women and children, Jo, Daniel, Jayden, those who meant everything to him, he would prey on them and right now all he had was the comfort that so far he hadn't physically hurt any of them.
"I've taken precautions, we both have, Daniel, he has a guard with him all the time, I've lost my police escort since they found the kook writing the threatening letters on behalf of the Red Rose Killer, but I still have someone with me all the time I'm off duty. I don't want us to have to live like that."
"I didn't realise they had the author of the notes, that must be a relief." Lauren smiled, delighted to hear a little bit of good news.
"Oh yeah, a thirty-six year old spinster from Barstow, blonde haired, blue eyed and deeply in love. Wanted desperately to be taken by him, and felt she had lost her one true chance of happiness because Rae and I had gotten to him first." For a second Steve laughed, "And I think I've got problems!"
"I haven't been to see her yet this week, how's your partner doing?" She had thought she was on safe ground, knowing just from the grapevine that the British woman was doing very well, but the look on Steve's face, the way he turned back to the window again, told her that another problem had raised its head.
"Steve?" His body language was different, he was defeated now, slumped, almost looking as if he didn't have the strength to carry his own weight.
"I … I haven't been to see her, not since she came round. I've come here, to the hospital, but I can't, I haven't gone to her room." The tears that threatened him as he'd thought of Jo were still too near the surface to be ignored as his main problems came into view and this time two escaped and ran down his cheeks as he drew in an agonising breath.
"Why ever not?" Lauren didn't need to ask, not for herself at any rate, she could see the answer right before her eyes, and suddenly all the pain, all the emotions of the past weeks were so tangible that she wanted to reach out and grab hold of them so the stoic man in front of her wouldn't hide them from sight ever again.
"What … happened with Rae, was … I see her, y'know, when I close my eyes, I hear her scream … the sound when …" He couldn't continue, and he balled his hands into tight fists digging his nails into his palms, trying to cause physical pain so he could concentrate on that instead. "How can I go sit with her when … how can I do that when I let her fall?"
"You let her fall?" The sound of the incredulity in her voice stopped Lauren from saying anything else, she didn't want to insult or anger him, but, although she knew he would feel guilty about Rae, she had never thought he felt he could have saved her.
His legs were shaking so much Steve knew he had to sit down. Somehow the room seemed to have grown in size; he was sure the chair was far closer when he strode away from it. His feelings, his emotions, seemed to fight every step he took, and when he sat back down Steve had to rest his head in his hands, had to make the world stop shaking, had to ignore the sweat which was pouring off of him, so he could brace himself and tell someone what had happened, what he had seen, the only problem was, he didn't know if he could bring himself to do so.
ooo
Jesse ran a comb through his hair and then looked at himself in the mirror of his bathroom. His hair needed a cut, but he knew Rae liked him to wear it a little longer than he himself cared for it to be. He smiled, knowing that she'd noticed, remembering how she had raised a hand and gently touched his collar letting the ends run over her fingers.
So much had changed in the two weeks since she had thrown her meal across the room and, as he had later found out to his horror, pushed Mark, and thankfully it had changed for the better.
The news of Rae's behaviour had been passed to him by Alex, along with the fact that he had sedated his patient, and she would be asleep for some time. It had been the following day before Jesse had had a chance to actually go and sit with her again while she was awake, and he had wondered, as he made his way along the hallway, whether he would be ignored and rejected once again.
He'd tried telling himself it was because she loved and trusted him above everyone else that Rae was able to treat him this way, but it didn't always work. All he knew was every time he saw her she would either look away or just close her eyes and lie still until he left.
After the meeting he had attended the previous day Jesse had thought long and hard about what he was going to do, and in the end had taken a tablet of paper and a pen with him, determined one way or another that he and Rae would talk.
His wife, who it appeared, had just finished her evening meal, actually made eye contact with him, which had been a start, and he had explained what it was he wanted to do. She had held her left hand out for the pen but it slipped through her fingers three times and so he offered to write for her.
Jesse put the letters of the alphabet at the top of the page, and as Rae pointed to them he had written them further down making the words she wanted to say. Her spelling and letter recognition didn't seem to be too affected by her accident, and step by step a short message had formed.
I am sorry, and I love you.
For a moment he had just smiled at her and then she pointed again. Gradually another message appeared,
I am scared, please help me.
He had wanted nothing more, and so he talked while Rae listened, spelling words out if she had a question or comment, and when the nurse came in with her night time medication with Alex just behind her, he was amazed to see they had been talking for over three hours.
Sometimes, he guessed, life took off like a speeding train, never slowing down for stations, or signals, or anything else. Jesse had a feeling Steve and Jo would also feel that life was running just a little too fast right now, but their problems and joys were the culmination of months of fear and heartache, whereas his had, quite literally, fallen out of the sky. He shuddered, the analogy was horrific and he pushed the images it conjured up out of his mind and straightened his tie before leaving his bedroom and walking out into the hallway.
Mrs Cameron was just coming from the girls' room with an armful of laundry as he reached the door and smiling Jesse opened up the lidded basket which he realised was standing next to him.
"Och, thank you, Doctor Travis, I'll move this out of your way, now." The American accent was softly highlighted by a Scottish lilt and never failed to lift Jesse's spirits.
"It's not a problem, Mrs Cameron, I know how much dirty washing those two make, are you sure one basket is enough?"
"Well, it's funny ye should mention that, because this is actually my second trip." The woman pointed down the hallway to the upstairs laundry room and he could see another collection of clothes ready for washing. Her laugh as she spoke was warm and friendly and once again Jesse thanked whoever was responsible for sending this dependable, open and extremely likeable woman to them.
"Daddy, Daddy, I'm ready." Eliana came bouncing out of one of the guest bedrooms where Miss Vicki had taken her to get dressed so as to keep out of the way of Miss 'Nett. Eliana spoke beautifully now, but the name Jeanette had totally stumped her and so between them they had decided that Miss 'Nett would do just fine.
The little girl, still small for her age, was dressed in blue jeans with butterflies embroidered all up one leg and a lilac top which also had butterflies and flowers sewn onto the right sleeve. Her white sneakers were impossibly clean, but only because they were less than two days old. Her hair, now reaching down to the belt loops on her pants, hung in shiny, bouncing ringlets, and was fastened back behind each ear with bright, sparkly grips. Anneya, also clean and smiling held happily onto Miss Vicki's hand as she stood taking in everything around her with intelligent, searching bright blue eyes. She was in a pink skirt and top, her blonde hair braided and neat, at least for the time being.
Today was Eliana's day to visit with her mom. She had sat and listened to all Anneya had to say the previous afternoon after her younger sister had spent her hour at the hospital and now was more than anxious to get there herself.
Anneya had spoken with her hands for a long time, not in sentences, she didn't think that way yet, but observations suddenly sprang forth, 'Mommy smiled at me' then there was silence for a minute or two, 'Mommy hold my picture,' and then, a little later, 'Mommy tired, I kiss her to sleep.' For a three-year-old her vocabulary was very good, and Jesse and Eliana's understanding of her signs was growing every day. They practised with Anneya, in a game they called sign school, and all enjoyed it enormously. It had happened by accident one afternoon when the little girl began showing her father and sister a new word she had learnt. Jesse had laughed and said to Miss Vicki that Anneya was a natural teacher. When that had been signed a change came over the small child, and she positively blossomed. Anneya went to school three mornings a week. It was a pre-school for Deaf children and so she knew what a teacher of sign did. Standing by the chalk-board in the playroom she had begun to slowly sign a word and then pointed to its actual counterpart. The word had been chalk and Jesse and Eliana had copied her, getting a signed, and therefore silent, clap when they got it right. Now each time Anneya came home from pre-school with new words to learn they would practice together, laughing and cuddling as they did so.
"Daddy!" The one insistent word brought Jesse out of his ponderings and he smiled.
"You look beautiful, Honey, and I know Mommy is looking forward to seeing you." His comment caused Eliana to bounce up and down, her curls doing their own independent dance as she did so.
"So, let's go then, time's a wastin'." The laugh from the housekeeper told Jesse that his daughter was learning from her as well as Miss Vicki and with a light heart he took the soft hand of his child into his own and made his way down the stairs.
ooo
She was excited, her eyes were bright, sparkling, and if she could have moved she would have. Rae was waiting for her eldest daughter and her husband to come and spend a little time with her.
Mark had called in just five minutes earlier and was now sitting, trying to keep her calm, and wondering at the change that had taken place in her over the last two weeks.
The day she had thrown her food and then almost pushed him over had been her lowest point so far. Alex had sedated her and then called a meeting of not only the doctors undertaking her care but also Jesse and Mark. They had agreed that, although she was still in a lot of pain, still needing constant care and attention, they should begin to at least appear to be moving things forward.
Both Alex and Mark knew part of the problem that morning had been her frustration as she realised her limitations, and that, combined with a nurse offering to feed her, had caused her to blow.
Mark had been very impressed with the way Alex had managed the meeting, setting out exactly what he wanted to do, listening to those more experienced than him and being prepared to change things, just a little.
"Rae, as Jesse will attest, is a very stubborn woman when she puts her mind to it." Alex had paused as Jesse nodded his head. "And right now she is definitely putting her mind to it. If we aren't careful we are gonna have severe depression to treat as well as her injuries, and I don't want that to happen."
"I've seen her at least once or twice every week since she was admitted, but her language skills are so limited that making any progress is very difficult." Lauren Yung had spoken first of those also in the room. She had known Rae a long time, seeing her through many difficulties and Mark knew she trusted the therapist totally.
"We have to stop treating her as an invalid, even though she is one, we have to stretch her. If she has toast on her plate then she picks it up and tries to put it in her mouth. Unless she asks we don't do." Mark was sure it was the loss of independence that was causing Rae the most harm. He was almost certain she didn't remember what had happened to her, apart from what she had been told, which was that she had had a work related accident, and as, worryingly, his son had been unable to visit with her since she had regained consciousness, there had been nothing visible to jog her memory.
"The swelling in her lower back has subsided now, and I'm arranging for tests to be done to ascertain what damage she has sustained. With her right leg so badly broken though I'm not hurrying with this, in fact I doubt whether anything will be done for at least another week maybe two." The orthopaedic surgeon, Doctor Sanchez, who had worked with Alex in the operating room spoke quietly. He and Alex had consulted regularly since the surgery and both doctors were in agreement as to the type of treatment that would be considered.
The speech therapist Rae had seen the first time she received a serious head injury had moved to New York and so she was now seeing a young man called Marshall Kelly who was approved not only by the hospital and the insurance company but also the LAPD. The sessions hadn't been very long so far, and had concentrated mainly on getting Rae to make specific sounds.
"I could move on to 'i' sounds, that way she could say 'hi' and 'bye'. She would actually be conversing with people. Somehow 'no' and 'goway' don't inspire friendly conversation."
In the end it had been decided that, although in essence the treatment would still move at the same pace as previously, it would appear to Rae that she was making huge progress. The nurses would be told not to mother her, but to expect her to do just a little more than she actually could, that way if she did have to ask Rae would have the satisfaction of knowing she had tried first.
Mark looked at the animated face of his friend and smiled. The tactics had worked far better than anyone had dreamed. At first, when she had woken up Rae had been mortified at her behaviour. She had cried when she saw Mark, her embarrassment and confusion plain for all to see. He had held her, gently, knowing almost all of her was still tender in one way or another, and told her over and over that he knew how frustrated she was, that she hadn't hurt him and most importantly that it was forgotten. Finally she had looked up at him, pain in her face and eyes and just made a kissing sound, and he knew she believed him.
The sound of Rae's eldest child, or at least her eldest child that lived in America, chattering as she came along the hallway, suddenly filled the air. Rae was no longer in the ICU, having been moved to an intermediate care room just three days earlier and so Eliana didn't have to keep as quiet as she had on her previous visits.
"Mommy, Mommy, I'm here." The proclamation, made with the confidence of youth, caused Mark to chuckle.
"Hi, Grandpa Mark, how are you today?" The little girl stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek and he took her into his arms and hugged her.
"I'm just dandy, thank you, how about you?" He smiled, she was a beautiful child, and he loved her dearly. He had two grandsons of his own now, but she would always have a special place in his heart, as would her sister, who was his goddaughter.
"I am fine, thank you. But I want to talk to Mommy."
"Eliana!" Jesse's voice caused his daughter to look worried, but Mark raised his hand in understanding.
"Of course she does, not an old 'un like me. Here you go, Honey, I've kept the seat warm for you."
The little girl climbed up onto the chair and Jesse moved round to the other side of the bed before leaning over and kissing his wife gently on the lips. Mark, smiling broadly, watched the scene for a moment or two before leaving, knowing in his heart that whatever problems Rae's injuries would continue to cause her, she loved and was loved enough in return to face them all with the confidence given her by her family who would always be by her side.