Chapter Three

Marissa was in no man's land, having no idea how she was supposed to approach this situation. How did Ryan deal with stress or fear? Did he want her to talk to him; did he need her to offer to listen to his thoughts? Did he need some sort of distraction, perhaps music, or did he rely upon physical support and needed someone to just hold his hand or rub his back to show that they cared. This was utterly foreign territory to her, and, strangely enough, she found it exhilarating.

She felt alive, as if she were actually living a normal life with normal people who had normal everyday doubts and problems instead of the forced, unnatural existence Newport Beach was somehow operating under. She decided to just trust her instincts when it came to Ryan.

Looking over at him, he appeared to be lost in thought, and knowing that he had not always been a fan of her incessant rambling, she decided just to remain quiet. Music did not seem to be his emotional release, for the only time he ever seemed to listen to it was when she had it on. Something told her that he was someone who took comfort in the physical, the tangible, but he had also made it quite clear that they weren't even friends, so comforting him through touch was out of the question. Sighing, she realized that until he spoke up and asked for her to do something, it was safer for her to do nothing. Perhaps just being there would be enough to show that she cared and that he was not alone.

The ride went quickly as they arrived in Long Beach in less than a half an hour. Wordlessly, Ryan showed Marissa where to turn in order to arrive at their destination. She could have sworn that he was out of the door running towards the entrance before the vehicle had even come to a complete stop. Hurrying herself, she locked up the car and sprinted into the vet's office.

Entering the building, the first sensation Marissa was confronted with the silence of the waiting room, a silence she found eerily familar to her life. Not wanting to deal with that, she went to the front desk to speak with the receptionist.

"Excuse me," Marissa pondered quietly, using a respectably soft and reverent voice. "Can you tell me where Ryan Atwood went?"

"He went back in the back with the vet to discuss Q's condition," the nurse answered. It was obvious from the way she spoke that Ryan and his dog Q were regular customers. Unable to hide her curiosity, she inquired into Marissa's relationship with Ryan. "How do know Ryan," the receptionist asked. "Are you friends…..or something?"

Puzzled as to how she should answer that, Marissa just stared off into space a moment before collecting herself and answering as honestly as she could. "We're acquaintances….through his work, sometimes on friendly terms and sometimes not so friendly." The answer seemed to just confuse the secretary even more, but Marissa refused to explain her cryptic answer, and even if she wanted to, she was not sure if she could. Deciding that it was just safer to change the subject, she scanned the room for something to distract them. As her eyes landed on dog food, she had her answer.

"I was wondering if you'd be able to help me organize a sort of care package for Q, something I can take home with me this evening, once she's out of surgery, so that I have the proper things at my house to take care of her."

With just a nod of her head, the receptionist stood from her desk and began to collect packets of dog food, special treats, and anything else she could sucker Marissa into buying, something that was not that hard of a task, and wondered the whole time why Q would be going to her house and not Ryan's. When they finished, she helped Marissa carry the bags of supplies out to the woman's car and became even more confused when she saw it was a luxury SUV. Breaking her thoughts as she tried to figure out the mystery that had landed in her lap, Marissa spoke up again.

"What exactly happened with Q? Do you know?"

"All I know is what the man told me over the phone while he was bringing her in," the receptionist explained. "He said that he had found her lying in the middle of the road obviously hit and it appeared to have been a truck, because it was the only vehicle in sight when he spotted Q. After picking her up, he walked back to his house and car and saw that the gate to Ryan's backyard had not been latched and that's how she got out."

With a nod of her head to signify that she understood what she had been told and to thank the other woman for sharing it with her, Marissa locked her vehicle back up and the two made their way back inside. She went to sit in a chair in the waiting room dreading the silence while the receptionist went back to work at the front desk.

Ryan emerged from the back of the vet office a half hour later to find Marissa blinding turning the pages of an out of date Time Magazine. He wasn't even sure if she saw anything inside of the magazine; it appeared as if she was just depending upon the motion to keep herself sane. It surprised him that she appeared to be upset about the accident herself, especially when he had expected her to leave him there to catch a taxi home and head back to Newport Beach without a word. Driving him there would have been her good dead for the day, and because that was accomplished, she would skip out as quickly as possible. Obviously, he was wrong, and the fact that he doubted her made him feel guilty. Perhaps she genuinely did care, he let himself think briefly before shaking the thought off and sitting down in the chair beside her, an act, which in itself he could tell from the look on her face, had shocked Marissa.

Whispering so as he was the only one who could hear, Marissa turned to him with concern written plainly across her face, "how is she?"

"Well, it could have been worse," Ryan explained as Marissa nodded for him to go on, signifying that she was interested and listening. "The damage seems to be focused on right side of the front of her body. Her leg there was broken in several places; that's what they're operating on. Plus, there seems to be some damage to her right eye. The doctor is not sure if she'll regain full use of it and, in fact, she could be blind in it for life. Other than that, she's just pretty bruised and sore and will be for a while."

"What can I do to help," Marissa offered. "Are you hungry? Is there a friend or a family member you want me to call for you? You name it; I'll try to do it."

Surprising Marissa, Ryan actually laughed softly. "I really don't think I could eat right now, and as for friends, you pretty much nailed it on the head when you surmised that I didn't have too many of them. Q's basically it."

"Well she doesn't talk much, so that makes sense," Marissa teased, thankful for the less intense moment they were sharing. "I was going to stay and then take you back to my place so you could pick up your truck, but if you want me to leave…."

"No, you can stay," Ryan said quickly, eager to not be alone while he waited for the surgery to be over. "I mean, will you…please stay."

Nodding and smiling at him, Marissa assured Ryan that she would do as he asked and remain with him until Q was allowed to go home. Silence over took the room again for a few moments while Marissa went back to attacking the magazine she was utterly disinterested in and Ryan stared off into space. Finally, unable to take the solitude and the nagging thoughts that came with it, Ryan broke the peace and startled Marissa with his request.

"Would you just talk to me….please," he practically begged. "This quiet is driving me insane."

"You and me both," Marissa admitted. "What do you want me to talk about?"

He was relieved that she didn't make a big deal of his request, that she did not tease him about backing down on his stance on keeping their communication at a minimum or about the fact that he was showing weakness. "I really don't care," he said in response to her question. "I just need noise."

Shaking her head, Marissa was quiet a moment while she thought of something to talk about. "I was all alone when I had my second son," she started wistfully, a smile already playing on her lips as she thought back to that fateful afternoon. "My kids are close in age, less than two years apart, so when I went into labor with my second son, it was an interesting trip to the hospital."

She looked over at Ryan to see if he was even interested in what she was saying, and when it appeared as if he was hanging on to her every word, she smiled contentedly and continued.

"My son Garrett was just a year and a half, and I was three weeks past my due date. We were on our way to get some groceries, mainly baby supplies, because he was still in diapers and eating baby food and that stuff seems to disappear before you even get it home from the store. Gerry was out of town on business, of course, and his parents mainly live in Europe now so they weren't here to help me. I'm not close with my family, especially my mother, so when I went into labor at the grocery store, I just continued to shop, determined that my house would be completely stocked of supplies so I would not have to worry about shopping for anything when I got home from the hospital."

At this point, Ryan interrupted her. "Are you telling me that you were pushing around a cart and having contractions at the same time," he asked amazed.

Giggling, Marissa replied back, "oh, it gets worse." He rolled his eyes, enough of a signal for her to continue. "I finished shopping; all the while the contractions were getting stronger and coming closer together. The cashier could tell I was in pain and asked if I was alright, but I waved her off telling her they were false labor pains. It took a while for my first son to be born, so I figured I had plenty of time. I drove home, unloaded the car, put the groceries away, and even put a load of laundry in before I packed a bag not only for myself but for Garrett and the new baby and left for the hospital. Five minutes after pulling out of my driveway, my water broke."

"While you were driving," Ryan sputtered out amazed. "Did you pull over?"

"Are you kidding me," Marissa laughed. "At that point that would have been like admitting defeat. I was so stubborn. If no one cared enough to be there in case I went into labor, then no one was going to get to know when I did. We made it to the hospital in one piece, but my car needed some mechanical work done afterwards from all the sudden stops and starts I made. Whenever a contraction hit, whatever pedal I was on got pounded."

"Once you got to the hospital," Ryan asked fascinated by the story, "did you call anyone then?"

"No," she responded, laughing at the memory herself. "I took Garrett with his diaper bag and supplies to the daycare center and explained my situation and then checked myself in. Less than an hour later, Cooper, my son, was born."

"Cooper," he reflected on the name, "I like it. Did you get it from a book or was it just something you thought of?"

"It was actually my maiden name. He was supposed to be named after an ancestor of Gerry's family, but I decided that if Gerry was too busy to be there when I went into labor, then he didn't get the right to name our son. Cooper is so like me, too, so the name fits well. He's his Mama's little boy."

"And I'm sure he'll love that in a few years," Ryan teased her, enjoying the way her eyes lit up when she talked about her kids and finally feeling as if he had broken through all her layers of protection and found the real Marissa. "Would you tell me more about your kids," he asked tentatively. "I mean, if you don't mind….."

"Mind," she mocked him. "You obviously don't associate with too many mothers, because if you did, you'd know our favorite thing to do is talk about our kids." Pondering for a moment as to what she should share with him, she finally started talking again after a few comfortable silent moments. "Okay, how about this. When the boys were little, both toddlers, they used to love to make mud pies. Every time it would rain, which doesn't happen all that often in Newport so it was always a treat, we would go outside and play in the dirt all day and make mud pies. I'd let them use my cookie cutters and rolling pins, whatever utensils they claimed we needed. I didn't care if I had to buy new ones; it was too much fun not to do. We would dry them after they were finished, and when they were dry, we would paint them and I'd use them as decorations outside in the garden. The boys loved that. One day I had to run inside to answer a phone call, and because there was a fence and we didn't have the pool yet, I left the boys alone. Cooper decided that he wanted to give his Dad one so he went into the garage and put a nice, wet pie on the driver's seat of Gerry's brand new Porsche. It was a damp, chilly day, and the pie never dried. I never found out about it, and the next day when Gerry got home from his business trip, he got in the car, never looked at his seat, and drove off to work sitting on a nice big piece of dark brown, wet mud. Let's just say he had a very interesting meeting." As Ryan started laughing at her tale, he noticed that the mirth left her face as she went to finish it. "He was not too happy with me when he came home that night and demanded that I never let the boys play in the mud again. I just agreed and then let them anyway, but before we made mud pies from then on, I always made sure the garage was locked first."

Ryan could sense the change in her mood, and he knew that the scene she was remembering was not as innocent as she was relating, but, although they had somehow bridged the gap that he had been adamant about having and seemingly had somehow become friends, he was not prepared to get that personally involved in her life, so he let it go. However, he would be watching her to make sure that nothing serious happened, that her husband did not hurt her, because that he could not sit back and let happen. Instead of asking her about what Gerry had done to her, he merely continued talking about happy things. "I'd like to see some of these masterpieces," he offered with a chuckle. "You know, I'm quite the judge of handiwork and crafts."

Pushing on his arm playfully, not even aware of what she was doing, Marissa laughed along with him. "It's a date then." Before they even had a chance to become awkward with her each other due to her words which rang innocently with innuendo, the vet stepped out into the main room and called Ryan's name, motioning for him to walk into the back. Ryan stood up and made it to the door before he realized that Marissa was not following him.

"Marissa, are you coming," he asked her bluntly, not even aware that he had stopped calling her Mrs. Carnahan in favor of a more familiar term, but Marissa noticed and was touched that not only had he given up his formal stance with her but that he wanted her by his side when he went to get his dog. Smiling up at him and not saying a word, she went to stand by him and they continued into the back together.

Their ride back to Newport saw the return of the awkwardness between them. Actually, if Marissa was honest with herself, it started while they had been talking to the vet, but why she did not know. Glancing over at Ryan, she noticed that he seemed tense, angry, and annoyed.

She had insisted that he drive them back to her house so that she could look after Q, claiming that she needed a woman's gentle touch and a mother to care for her. He had just rolled his eyes at her but said nothing, knowing that he wouldn't have won the argument anyway. So now, here they were, Ryan driving, Q sound asleep, and Marissa on edge fearing she had said or done something wrong to put Ryan in this foul mood. Not able to take unknowing any longer, she decided to ask him point blank.

"Ryan, what's wrong? Did I do something I shouldn't have? Did I say something to make you mad," she questioned in a soft, timid voice.

"It's nothing," he said brusquely, making her wince at how cold his voice sounded and feel as if he had, just like everyone else in her life, dismissed her.

"Fine, if you didn't want to talk to me, you just had to say so! Stupid me thought we had gotten past this ridiculous personal distance rule you have for yourself so that you don't get too close to anyone, but I guess I was obviously wrong!"

"Marissa, it's not like that," Ryan sighed dejectedly, already knowing that her hurt was weakening him and making him want to tell her. "It's just…..it's personal."

"Of course it is, and the stories I shared with you today weren't personal at all, just like the stories I've been telling you since the day I met you haven't been personal," she shot back defensively and with a bit of ire creeping into her voice.

"I just….feel guilty," he admitted softly, not even sure if he spoke loud enough for her to hear, but he had, and his admission shut her up immediately as she pondered what he meant. When she didn't respond, he looked over to her and noticed her confusion. "It's my fault Q got hit," he elaborated. "If I hadn't been so distracted this morning, then I wouldn't have not remembered to lock up the gate, and if I had locked up the gate, she would have never have gotten out and she would have never have gotten hit. End of story."

At first she didn't know what to say, but she knew she had to say something to at least attempt to comfort him. "Ryan," she started hesitantly, "it was a mistake. Everyone makes them, and do you really think that Q would want you to blame yourself. She seems like a pretty rational, intelligent, level-headed dog, apparently not taking after her owner, and I'm sure she would not want you to beat yourself up over this." Ryan snorted and rolled his eyes at her comment, but she noticed that he could not keep a straight face and so she continued. "I'm sure whatever you were thinking about was important, too, otherwise you would not have been distracted. It was probably work related."

"You have no idea," he mumbled miserably, puzzling her, but she continued anyway.

"Besides, I have an idea." Excitedly, she turned around in her seat so she was facing him, her expression childlike in innocence. "Since you'll be working for a while on the house, why not bring Q with you everyday. I could look after her while she's recuperating, and if you're still working on the house once she's feeling better, she can keep me company so I leave you alone. I have that big yard that's just going to waste, and I'm sure she'd love to play around in the pool. What do you say," Marissa cajoled.

"I guess that could work," Ryan considered carefully, "but are you sure, because I wouldn't want to put you out or force this upon you."

"Ryan," Marissa admonished him, "I was the one who suggested it and wanted to do this in the first place. I think you can tell that I'm pretty lonely, and it would be nice to have another girl around the house even if it's not a permanent arrangement. Besides, I doubt you'd want to leave her alone all day while you were working."

"I don't."

"You see," she persisted, "this plan has no flaws, and speaking of terrific plans, I have two more."

"Great," he said with mock enthusiasm, earning himself another jab in the ribs, "can't wait to hear what else you've come up with.

"In case you can't tell, I'm ignoring you," she teased back. "Okay, so first of all, I've been thinking about your schedule, and it seems to me that since there's quite a bit of work I'd like done…."

"I thought it was just the kitchen and the bathroom," he asked, confused.

"Yeah, I've changed my mind, there's much more that needs remodeled, but anyway, I digress. You might as well work Saturdays, too. I could watch Q for you, you could get more work done, I'd pay you double time because you're working on the weekend," and that way I'd only be alone of Sundays and I'd be able to see you more often, she added silently. "I think it would be a win-win situation for both of us," Marissa finished.

"I'll think about it," Ryan conceded. "Now, what's this third plan you have?"

"I think that since both you and Q had a rough, stressful day, you should stay for dinner. I'll order some take out for us, I bought Q some food and treats at the Vet's office, and we can argue over this Saturday idea. What do you say?"

"Marissa," Ryan began. She could hear the hesitance in his voice. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea. I mean, whatever happened to keeping this professional?"

"I think we're well passed professional, Ryan," she said gently, not wanting to scare him off, "but if you're still wary of being friends with me, think of it as doing me a favor. I do not want to eat alone again. Do you know how long it has been since I ate dinner with someone?" He just looked at her out of the corner of his eye totally clueless as to the answer to her question. "It was over a month ago, the night before my boys left for camp, and I'm sick and tired of it! I want….no, I need, some company, and, at this point, you're the closet thing I have to a real friend, and if that reason is not good enough for you, think about it as a business dinner while we discuss the things I want done to the house."

"Alright," he agreed after a moment's thought," Q and I will stay and have dinner with you."

"Suit yourself," she said playfully, turning up the volume slightly on the radio and laughing to herself, "but if you could be quiet for one moment and quit yapping my ear off, I'd like to listen to this song."

Surprising himself, Ryan laughed at her innocent joke at her own expense with her and enjoyed, again, listening to her sing, out of tune, along with the song playing softly on the radio as they entered Newport Beach and steadily made their way back to her home on the hill over looking the Pacific Ocean.

An hour after they got back to her house, Marissa entered the kitchen to see Ryan finishing up. He had insisted that he clean up his mess from the day, and although he had wanted to continue working and get done what he hadn't accomplished, she pulled rank, she had said, and he wasn't allowed to work on her home this late; she didn't want him to.

"Q is blissfully unaware and passed out on my couch, the take out has been ordered, and I set out some old college sweats of my Dad's that I kept all these years in the back of my closet for sentimental reasons so you can shower and change out of those dirty clothes," she summarized for him.

"You let Q, my golden retriever who sheds terribly and has a major drooling problem, sleep on your white, no doubt, expensive couch," Ryan interrogated her with an amused look on his face, completely stunned by this woman's utter lack of concern for any of her material possessions and need to care for his dog.

"I do own a vacuum," she dismissed his concerns, "and I also have raised two rambunctious sons with those white couches and they're still standing. Besides, I drool probably just as much as Q does, but enough talking, man I can't get you to shut up now that you've started," she ribbed and he laughed at her light mood, "you smell and there's a hot shower calling your name. It might actually help you relax a little bit." Pushing him by the shoulders, she shoved him towards the stairs and shouted directions up after him as to where he could find the guest bathroom.

Smiling after his retreating figure, she went back to the living room and checked on Q once more before finding the house phone and pulling out the menu to her favorite Chinese restaurant. She ordered all her favorites and then some traditional staples, unsure of what Ryan would like and cursing herself for not asking him before he got in the shower. I could always just go up there and try not to peak while I ask him what he wants, she thought to herself, but physically shaking her head to rid her mind of those thoughts, she chastised herself for her inappropriate behavior. Pulling out a bucket, soap, and scrubbing brush, she went outside to clean up the mess the melted ice cream had left on her driveway.

After dinner and getting Ryan to agree to the Saturday hours, Marissa had insisted that he stay and keep her company. He agreed quite easily. They had spent their evening in relative comfort with each other, Marissa sharing more stories of her children, and Ryan even speaking of his own childhood a little bit as certain memories related to the tales she shared of her sons. No matter what they discussed or what he asked, she somehow avoided her childhood and family all together except for one innocent remark about how she had given Cooper the name of her father's dog, another golden retriever, as his middle name, Dustin. The revelation made it easier for Ryan to understand why she was so adamant about helping Q.

Before he knew it dusk had settled over Orange County and faded into night. By the time either of them became aware of how late it was, they were both yawning and exhausted, the clock quickly approaching midnight. Marissa had insisted that he could stay there in one of her guest rooms, but he had declined. Leaving her and Q alone, he had retreated the kitchen to gather his thoughts and load his truck with his tools to go home for the evening.

He would never tell her, but the idea of staying with her, even if in a guest room, had been too appealing for Ryan and it had scared him. He knew he was beginning to care for her, that she was definitely more than his boss to him, and although he knew she felt the same way, he had no idea what to do with those feelings.

Taking his time so that he could think as much as possible before he'd have to confront her again, he was gone loading his truck for almost fifteen minutes. When he came back to the living room, he found Marissa sound asleep on the couch and that Q had repositioned herself so that she was lying on Marissa's legs, her head resting on her lap. If Ryan did not know better, he would have sworn his dog was purposely trying to get him to stay there. Bending down so that he was close to Marissa's ear, he spoke softly.

"Marissa….Marissa," he said her name in an attempt to rouse her. When she didn't move or say a word, he raised his hand and gently, with slightly shaking fingers, touched her cheek causing her to stir. "I guess I'll stay. I don't want to move Q right now," he told her. "Where do you want me to sleep?"

"Just sleep with Mommy, Cooper," she said obviously in a dream. Laughing to himself, Ryan pulled a blanket off the back of the couch and covered her up, making sure to tuck the blanket in snuggly so she would not get cold and enjoying the feeling of his hands on her body, of being so close to her, of taking care of her. Standing up, he went to make sure the doors were all locked before turning off the lights, finding another blanket, and settling down on the couch opposite of Marissa and Q for the night. He did not fall asleep right away though, and spent quite a while just watching her steady, relaxed, peaceful breathing as it lulled him into a relaxed state. Finally, when he did fall asleep, it was the first night that week he found any serenity.