Unfortunately, none of the characters below are from my own creativity. JE deserves all the credit.

Jenny (JenRar) I can't find the right words to express how I feel about the work you have put into this story so far as the beta. Thank you isn't sufficient, but it's all I have.

Chapter 6 – Family

I knew I was cutting it close, but I was glad I'd stayed downstairs the extra time, as it allowed me to handle a client call and talk him down from the major fit he was throwing over some vandals at his store. I agreed to increase drive-bys from RangeMan and promised to have an additional camera installed at the front of the store to capture the people responsible for the damage.

I'd only left myself twenty minutes to shower and change before Stephanie and I had to leave in order to make it to her parents' house for dinner on time. She'd been avoiding them all week, but this morning, her mother had called and left the demand that either Stephanie showed up for dinner this evening, or she was sending Joe over to find out why her daughter had disappeared.

I knew Joe had explained everything to the Plums regarding Steph's injuries, but her parents wanted to see for themselves that she was all right. And as much as I didn't want to go, I could totally understand their point of view. I knew Stephanie would be more comfortable with me there, so I didn't hesitate to volunteer.

She was still a little sore from the bruising caused by the pressure and force of the explosion, but it was so much better than it had been. She was moving around mostly up to speed and no longer grimaced when she had to bend over or stand up. Her torso still looked like she'd been dipped in a vat of blue ink, but even that was beginning to lighten and look better.

There was still no change in her hearing, though, and while that might have discouraged some people, Stephanie seemed to be handling it by taking intensive courses in sign language and lip reading. I knew it was a way to take control of her life, since she felt that things were so far out of her hands, but I worried that it was also a form of denial. She was hiding in the apartment on seven, with the excuse of needing to learn how to communicate. I had a hard time coming up with a valid reason to object to her self-imposed exile.

Fortunately, a Plum family dinner provided a possibility to get her out of the building that she couldn't turn down. She was anxious and didn't want to go, but she'd agreed to do it as long as I stayed with her.

We were going to take her iPad and keyboard kit, along with a pad of paper and a pen, so her family could talk to her. She worried they would be irritated with the idea of having to type or write instead of talking to her. I promised that I would be her scribe if her family didn't want to put forth the effort.

I let myself in the door just in time to hear Stephanie complain, "But they look exactly the same."

Zip was apparently still there working on lip reading with her. I could hear him typing a response and her sigh in response and smiled. I'd worked with Zip for five years, first in the Army, and then at RangeMan as soon as he was ready for a civilian job. He rarely spoke, but when he did, it was usually worth listening to. I wondered how he would do around Stephanie, who was a steady stream of conversation, but they both seemed to be enjoying their sessions.

I'd asked Zip in the gym this morning how she was doing, and he said he thought she was learning really quickly because of her people reading skills. She was great at picking up the small cues that helped her deduce what was being said. He felt like she was better at it than she thought and hoped her level of confidence would come in time. Amazingly, with the hours each day they'd been putting in, he felt like he would run out of things to teach her in a day or two and had begun to suggest to Stephanie that they pull back the intensive nature of their time together so she could spend more time practicing.

He was also shocked to hear that I was still typing or writing out what I needed to say. He'd encouraged me to stop and make her try to read my lips first so that she would be motivated to hone her reading skills.

I knew he was right, but I was struggling to do it. I hated the look of confusion that would come over her face when she was missing something, and I hated the idea of intentionally putting her in a place where she wasn't comfortable.

When I came around the corner, Zip looked up at me and lifted his chin in greeting. Stephanie noticed the change in her instructor and turned around to see me watching them, giving me one of her smiles that warmed the center of my chest in a way nothing else could.

I tapped my watch and said, "You ready?"

She turned around to see the clock on the wall over the bar, and then jumped up, as though her chair had an electric current running through it. "Oh, God, I'm late. I need to change and get ready," she announced, before taking off toward the bedroom.

When the bedroom door closed, Zip stood up and walked over to me.

"How'd she do?" I asked, feeling slightly guilty for checking up on her, like I wanted a sneak peek at her report card.

He shrugged, the master of understatements, and said, "She can do this, but when she gets one thing wrong or can't figure it out, she forgets all about the hundred she just got right."

That sounded like her. Years of being told she wasn't doing the right things in the right way had done a number on her self-confidence. I knew her family meant well, but there were times when I just wanted to lock her up, away from their grasp, to save her from their interference.

But this was Stephanie I was talking about. Locking her up would never work, and I knew better than to try it. I'd watched too many other people attempt it and fail that I recognized a lost cause when I saw one.

Zip brought me back to the present by saying, "Let her know I'll work with her tomorrow, but I want her to come downstairs to the break room for it. That way, she can practice listening in on other people, without them knowing, to test out what she can do."

Knowing how curious Stephanie was, I figured that would be right up her alley, so I thought he had come up with another offer she wouldn't be able to refuse.

I slipped into our bedroom just in time to see Stephanie wearing nothing but a royal blue bra and panty set. She was staring into the closet, as though the outfit she was supposed to wear this evening was going to jump out at her. I couldn't stop myself from coming up behind her and slipping my arms around her waist. Her head relaxed back against my neck and shoulder, and she took a deep breath, like she was trying to draw my strength into her body.

The alarm clock on the nightstand was blaring the fact that I now had less than fifteen minutes to get ready, so I reluctantly pulled back and kissed her on the cheek, before jumping in the shower.

When I got out, I found Stephanie in exactly the same place I'd left her. I moved past, not wanting to interfere with whatever process she was going through to get ready, and grabbed a pair of tan dress pants and an olive green silk shirt. I figured a little color might help to lighten my influence at the dinner table.

I turned to face Stephanie as I was buttoning up my shirt and noticed she was staring at me with a look of pure hunger in her eyes. As flattering as it was, I was convinced if I took the five steps between us, we would definitely miss dinner, and I knew it was important. So instead of doing what my body wanted, I went to her side of the closet and pulled out a fitted, yet conservative skirt and a blouse that was deep blue to match her eyes and handed them to her. Fortunately, she took them and started getting dressed.

I strapped a holster on my leg and put a knife on my belt. I hated that I couldn't put a gun at my waist, too, but I felt like that might be a little over the top with her family. While I was debating the merits of throwing on a sports coat so I could wear a shoulder holster anyway, Stephanie stepped into my field of vision, putting the final earring in to make her a true vision of loveliness.

I shook my head at my own thought. I'd never used a word like lovely before. Hell, most of the guys would probably bust a gut if they'd heard that thought, but it was the only thing that fit. She was soft and tender on the outside, but an absolute warrior on the inside. The combination that I knew only I was fully privy to was enough to knock my vocabulary down to words I used to hear my father use about my mother.

She used her hands to brush down the sides of her skirt, and then asked, "Do I look okay?"

I stood up, unable to hold back, and stopped when my hands framed her face and my body was just touching hers, to reply, "You are beautiful."

Her face blushed, and I knew she'd understood me. I realized then that I'd missed this. We talked all the time now. She would email me throughout the day, and at night, I typed until my wrists were tired from it so we could have a conversation. The hours we spent on the couch with a glass of wine were wonderful and had pulled us closer together without a doubt. But I missed being able to watch her reactions as I spoke. I missed the connection of saying things I meant with all my heart, while looking in her eyes so she would know just how serious I was about what I was saying. Maybe Zip was right, and it was time to stop typing so she could practice her lip reading skills.

I forced myself to hold back and place a light kiss on her lips. Hopefully, it was enough to help her understand that when we got back, we weren't going straight back to sleep. And as she walked away from me to grab her purse, I watched the skirt hug her hips and ass and moved the zipper of my pants to make more room. No, we were definitely not going to sleep as soon as we got home.

Steph's grandmother was standing at the door when we pulled up. I'd never understood how her relatives knew when to appear so they always caught our arrival. I was glad that Stephanie waited so that I could open her door and give her my hand to pull herself up with. She made no move to release me after standing, so I shifted my hand to cross our fingers and squeezed a little to reassure her everything was going to be fine.

She tightened her grip on her bag, which I knew contained the supplies she'd brought to help communicate, and we made our way up to her grandmother, who flung the door open with a smile.

She gripped Stephanie's shoulders with her frail looking hands and grinned at her, saying, "It's good to see you, baby girl."

Stephanie smiled at her and repeated, "It's good to see you, too."

I was so proud of her. Her time cramming with Zip had obviously paid off, and being able to respond to her crazy relative had put a huge smile on the old woman's face.

I found myself copying it, until she looked up at me and said, "And you brought me a little something to look at while you're visiting. It's nice to see that hot package in something other than work clothes."

And just like that, I began to wonder if I'd made a monumental mistake in coming here tonight. I could face terrorists, drug cartels, convicted felons, and psychopaths without once second guessing myself or playing a defensive role. But ten seconds near her grandmother, and I was already looking for an exit and trying to position myself so that Stephanie was between us. What kind of man uses his woman as a shield from the thing he's afraid of?

Steph looked at me, slightly confused but still amused at my response, before looking back to her grandmother and telling her, "Behave. He's here for me, not you."

That only made her smile bigger. "Hot damn, my granddaughter has bagged her a good one."

I'd had plenty of women fall over me, and quite a few mothers try and push their daughters on me, but I'd never felt as much like a piece of meat for the taking as I did when Edna Mazur used her tongue to push her dentures down and wiggle them around with a shit eating grin on her face.

"Just wait until your mother hears the news," Edna said with a cackle.

"Hears what news?" Helen came around the corner to ask. When she saw us, she stopped and glanced at each of us, her eyes resting on our joined hands briefly. Then she seemed to shake herself out of her stupor and came much closer, before practically yelling, "Don't just stand there. Come in the house so the neighbors won't stare, trying to figure out what's going on at our door."

Stephanie blinked a few times, like she was trying to figure out what had just happened, before looking at me to ask, "Is she yelling at me?"

"Yes," I answered her honestly, not seeing the point in holding back from her. "But I think she's doing it in the hope that you'll be able to hear her, not because she's mad."

Stephanie shook her head at my response, causing me to wonder if she'd understood me, or if she was disagreeing with my assessment.

Still, we followed Helen's directions and shut the front door to keep the neighbors from peering in. I would have labeled her as paranoid, but I could feel eyes on me, and I knew she was right. The neighbors were definitely watching.

Her mother began talking as she walked toward the kitchen, meaning Stephanie was oblivious to anything being said. "Mrs. Plum," I said, wanting to be sure she was actually aware of her daughter's condition. "Stephanie can't hear you."

"Oh!" She stopped briefly, and then spoke twice as loud, repeating what she'd just said.

I allowed her to lead us to the kitchen, where Stephanie took a seat on a stool at the bar, while her mother took the place of ruler of the kitchen kingdom on the other side.

"Mrs. Plum, I'm not sure what you know about Stephanie's hearing," I began, before Helen interrupted.

"Joe told me all about it. He said the explosion in her apartment had messed up both her ears and the doctors were waiting as everything healed to see what her hearing would be like."

I wondered if that were exactly what Joe had said, or if it was just what she had elected to take away from the details given to her. "Actually, it's a little more complicated than that," I attempted to correct her.

Helen waved a hand in the air and turned her back to the stove, where potatoes were boiling in a big pot. "Nonsense. Stephanie will be fine. She might have a little ringing in her ears, and no doubt it's been painful, but she will pull through this just like she always does. If she can survive gun shot wounds and cars blowing up, she can survive a little damage to her ears."

I turned myself slightly to the side so that Stephanie couldn't see my lips completely, feeling badly for shutting her out, but needing the privacy to make my point bluntly to her mother. "Mrs. Plum, at the moment, Stephanie is completely deaf. She has no ability to hear anything other than the constant ringing in her ears. She has been working for hours each day to learn how to read lips, but unless you are looking directly at her and speaking slowly, she has no chance of picking up on what you're saying. The doctor has agreed to reassess her in another five weeks to see if there might be a surgical correction that can be done to help repair the damage and restore some of her hearing, but he wasn't overly optimistic about that as a possibility. You need to understand, there is a very real chance that Stephanie will never hear again, and even if she does have the surgery and it's successful, it would only restore part of her hearing."

Helen spun around and looked at Stephanie, and then back to me. "If she can't hear me, what's the point of talking to her?"

I was a patient man, but this woman had me grateful that I hadn't worn the jacket to cover up a shoulder holster after all. My trigger finger was itching from her insensitivity, and I didn't think watching me pull a weapon on her mother would be appreciated, regardless of how well intentioned I was. I took a deep breath and said, "She's been taking classes in lip reading, so if you speak slower and look directly at her, there's a good chance she will be able to pick up what you're saying. But since she's still new to it, she also brought some paper and a pen, as well as a keyboard so you can type what you want to say, and then she can speak back."

"How can she speak back?" Helen asked, obviously not having much experience around someone who was hearing impaired.

"I open my mouth and words come out, the same as you," Stephanie answered her mother's question, exhibiting the fire I most loved about her.

I tried to hold back my smile, but failed. Instead, I tapped Steph on her arm to get her attention and put my fist at my belt, before pulling it up over my chest, and then pointing directly at the woman I loved. She recognized the sign for proud of you that Hector had taught me and grinned at me, before signing thank you in return.

"Am I going to have to learn how to do that, too?" her mother asked, not appreciating us communicating and leaving her out.

"No," I replied quickly, trying to answer calmly for Stephanie's sake more than her mother's. "Stephanie's been learning it because it isn't always possible to type or write what is being said, so it is helpful for her to know, but she isn't proficient beyond a few words and phrases and the alphabet. But at the rate she's been picking it up, I'd guess it won't take her long to be fluent."

"Of course not," Steph's grandmother interrupted. "She gets that from me. I'm real good at things that use my body, and my granddaughter takes after me."

I thought I controlled my shiver at that image, until Steph touched my arm and asked, "Do I want to know?"

I grabbed the iPad and used it to respond so her family would understand how to do it. I typed, Please don't make me tell you. I don't want that image stuck in my head long enough to relive it again.

Mrs. Mazur came over and looked at how I was typing and Steph was reading on the screen and asked if she could try it. I handed it over gladly. Despite her honestly making me nervous, she loved her granddaughter, and I was impressed that a woman in her eighties was stepping up to try something new in order to communicate with Stephanie, before even her mother tried it.

I stood up and gave Edna my stool so she and Stephanie could be closer together. She typed slowly, but eventually, using only her two index fingers, she got a full message in.

Stephanie laughed, before saying, "I know there are more details than that. There's no way a cat just naturally loses all its hair overnight."

I wasn't usually a nosy person, but a sentence like that was too hard to resist, and I wondered exactly what Edna had said, so I stood behind Stephanie, under the guise of rubbing her shoulders, while looking over them at the screen filling up with characters. Apparently, Mrs. Mazur had initially said that she was glad Stephanie had come over, because the only other thing of any excitement from this week had been Mrs. Lewinsky's newly bald cat.

After the request for more details, she sat there happily typing away with a nearly evil grin on her face.

You know Mrs. Lewinsky had been bragging all over the neighborhood about her new fella named Wilber. He was spry and could still drive, so he was quite a catch. Word is one night after they'd tried to get it on and Wilber couldn't fully perform, she asked if there was anything she could do that might help him. He thought about it and finally said he'd always thought a clean shaved pussy was sexy, and he was positive if he could see her pussy with no hair, it would be enough to turn him on. They had another date three days later. Wilber went into her house, and after only ten minutes, he left. Mrs. Lewinsky yelled at him from the porch that if he was going to laugh at her, he didn't need to bother coming back. I guess she didn't know that a pussy was a part of her anatomy and had taken her cat to a groomer, instead. She told the girls at the clip and curl that she thought it was a strange request, but her daughter had told her guys were into weird things these days, so she just went with it to show how hip she could be.

I had to look away to keep from laughing along with Stephanie by the time her grandmother had spun the whole tale. Helen interrupted by grabbing the pad and pen to write set the table and pushed it toward Stephanie. Edna amused herself by closing out the word processor and playing with Stephanie's apps, while Steph disappeared back to the dining room with silverware and napkins. She was just touching random icons, so I made a mental note to have Hector look at it tomorrow to be sure she hasn't screwed anything up or downloaded any kind of strange porn with Stephanie's internet access.

"She's going to be all right, Mrs. Plum," I tried to reassure her, wondering if I'd been wrong to be so direct earlier.

"But she can't hear," Helen corrected me. "I'm no fool; I know that a woman who is constantly in danger and can't hear is just trouble waiting to happen. Her body will heal from the explosion, but what kind of call should I expect next?"

For the first time ever, I felt sorry for the woman bustling around in front of me. She wasn't being cold because she didn't like Stephanie; she was doing it out of concern. Admittedly, it was the wrong reaction, but understanding her point of view was helpful.

"Stephanie has been staying with me in my apartment. I'll keep her safe while she heals, and when she's better, we'll figure out how to keep her safe together," I told her.

Helen spun around when I told her where Stephanie was living. "I know you are considered a catch; at least, that's what my mother says. But Stephanie needs a husband, someone who can take care of her long term. How she'll find that without being able to hear him talk is beyond me, but I can guarantee you that she won't find a husband while she's in your apartment. You may think you're helping her, but she won't be young forever."

Shit, what was it with marriage in the 'Burg? "Mrs. Plum, your daughter and I had begun to see each other prior to her accident. I feel very strongly for her, and while I can't guarantee what the future will bring, I can tell you that I'm not going anywhere. I'd say that Stephanie's best chances at finding a husband are in my apartment and nowhere else, because I have no intention of letting her go."

Helen's eyes narrowed, as though she were looking for some weakness, or trying to test out the sincerity of my words. Finally, she put her hand on her hip in a motion I'd seen Stephanie do thousands of times and announced, "She's independent."

"It's one of the things I love most about her. She knows her own mind and doesn't mind speaking it," I countered.

"She gets harebrained ideas and jumps without thinking first," she warned.

"She has great instincts and has learned to follow them to great results most of the time," I said, turning around her complaint.

"She runs when she's scared," she pointed out with a look of near pleading on her face.

"I've made a career of finding people who have tried to run. I'm the best there is, and there's nowhere she can go to hide from me," I replied with more confidence than I really felt.

Then she surprised me by saying, "Her father can be difficult to get along with."

I nearly laughed at that, knowing of all the members of her family she could have picked for that complaint, Stephanie's father was the least of my worries. "I hear he was in the Army, and he loves his daughter. As far as I'm concerned, we have enough in common to build on."

"I always serve dessert at dinner," she said, a hint of a smile forming at the right side of her mouth.

"In moderation, a well made dessert is a wonderful thing." Hell, to prove to everyone how serious I was about Stephanie, I'd gladly eat a little extra sugar once a week. I could always add a mile or two to my workout the next day to make up for it.

"In that case, you'd better call everyone to dinner. The roast is ready, and if it dries out because you were in here talking my ears off, it will be all your fault." That time, I was sure she was smiling, but she turned around to the stove before I could call her on it.

I went out to the den and found Stephanie sitting by her dad's side on the couch, watching the game. There were captions at the bottom of the screen, and I knew without a doubt that Stephanie would never have asked him to turn them on. I guess her dad had already accepted what her mother refused to see and had made his own changes to support his little girl.

I'd always wondered why she continued to put up with the crap she did from her mother and why she endured the crazy antics of her grandmother and the near silence of her father. But in the thirty minutes we'd been in their home, I realized that in their own ways, they loved Stephanie. I hadn't seen it before, but faced with it now, it was undeniable.

Nobody was hugging her or telling her how worried they'd been, but her grandmother was distracting her with stories, I know I smelled pineapple in the kitchen, meaning dessert would be Stephanie's favorite cake, and now, she was watching the game with her dad, subtitles on, to include her in the play by play. It might not be Hallmark, but it was love, just the same.