Two days after his wife's surgery, Mike Danko found himself on a hard bleacher, cheering his eight year old daughter at her soccer championship. He tried hard to focus on the game, but was struggling. He'd spent every minute in the last forty-eight hours beside his wife, and had slept very little. He hadn't had much time to deal with any of his emotions either. Now, in the bright sunlight, away from the cold, antiseptic hospital, he found himself awash in emotions.
He knew Jill was struggling; would struggle with her changed body. He knew she was worried that it would change things between them. They'd never, ever struggled in their physical relationship. All she had to do was raise an eyebrow at him, and he was more than willing. She'd teased him about it. "Don't you have an off button?" but he'd only laughed and said, "Not when it comes to you, Babe." Sixteen years of marriage hadn't changed it.
His daughters were struggling too. They missed their mother and their old routines. Both Lizzie and Amy were having nightmares, and Lizzie had started to wet the bed again. They needed their parents; needed more of his time. Even now, when he should be focused on Amy's game, his mind was drifting.
He felt disconnected from his job, too. He knew he wasn't doing as good a job as he could. He was distracted and forgetful. He recognized that the people around him were picking up the slack and covering for him.
And he was struggling. Even before her surgery, he was sleep-deprived. He would fall asleep for a few hours only to wake up, worried and unable to rest. He would spend hours watching her sleep, or looking at old pictures remembering. He was afraid all the time - a new experience for him. He was never really afraid - not for himself. He'd been afraid for Jill lots of times and for his girls, but never for himself - not even in Vietnam. Now he was terrified, daily.
He couldn't manage a life without Jill. He knew it. Every man had his limit and he had come to realize that this was his. He depended on her. He needed her. She gave him balance, and made things right. She was the heart inside his chest, and he wouldn't be able to continue on without her.
He let out a ragged sigh, and tried to focus on the soccer game in front of him, but his eyes were blurred by tears. He was sitting between Terry and Ryker, and they both turned toward him, as they heard his sigh. He rose, uncomfortable under their gaze; uncomfortable under the gaze of everyone who knew the entire game had been rearranged for him; for his family. He could imagine the whispers, "That's him. His wife has cancer."
"I'm gonna get something to drink." He said rising suddenly, afraid he would burst into tears in front of everyone. He walked rapidly away, hoping he could get things under control before half time. He crossed the park in quick strides, finding himself on the opposite end near the playground equipment which was relatively abandoned.
"Here." He looked up, surprised to see that Ryker had followed him. He held out a handkerchief before settling next time him on the bench where Mike had collapsed.
"I didn't know people actually carried these things." He said accepting it, and wiping his face. "You are a classy guy."
Ryker shrugged.
"I should get back. Amy will be . . ." But he felt himself awash in a fresh wave of tears.
"Take it easy, Mike." Ryker said, his hand resting on Mike's shoulder. "I don't know how you've held up this long." He sat beside Mike a long time saying nothing at all, one hand firm on his shoulder. When he finally spoke again, his voice was uncharacteristically soft.
"The first time I saw the two of you together, it felt like a kick in the gut." Mike looked up surprised. "The way she watches you - you can see it - how much she loves you. And it reminded me so much of Mary Kate. She used to look at me like that." He sighed. "And I knew, right then, I was headed for trouble. I knew right then, that I wasn't going to be able to keep any sense of perspective. It was like traveling back in time and looking in the mirror. I know what it feels like to be loved like that - to love like that." He looked up at Mike. "I'm not a "modern" man. I don't watch Donahue or sit around and talk about feelings. That's why the whole program was a stretch for me. Cops who care? Cops who want to help? I had no business being in charge of something like that. Me? Mary Kate would have laughed so hard." He shook his head smiling and thinking about it.
"I feel guilty being so upset. She's still here. I still have her, and you . . ." Mike confessed.
"I know you do." He said quietly. "I know you think it was her - that she was the one that drew me to you; to your family. And you are partly right. She's so damn stubborn - kept trying to include me. She wore me down and I had to say yes. But I know why she pushed so hard. I know why she insisted on including me."
"What do you mean?" Mike asked.
"She knew how I felt." Ryker said simply, but seeing Mike's puzzled expression he continued. "She knew how I felt about you. You have always been the most important thing in the world to her. She reached out to me because of you." He shrugged, somewhat embarrassed. "I know your father didn't approve of your choices - the military, being a civil servant - and I hope his attitude changed before he died. But he was foolish. He was a foolish man not to recognize what a good son he'd raised. You are the kind of man who would make any father proud, Mike. That first day, even, at the Academy, you impressed me - so young but so devoted and determined. You've always made me proud. Always. Even in this, the way you take care of her; the way you love her - even the way you feel guilty and thinking about things from my perspective. You are a good man, and I'd be proud if you were son."
Mike sat back utterly surprised, and speechless. He'd already been lost in a sea of emotions and now, he felt utterly wrecked.
"Thank you, sir." He said his throat tight. "Thank you."
All he had ever wanted, his whole life long was his father to say those very words to him. Although, he'd made a peace with his father, shortly before his death, they'd never been able to settle this. His father had never, not once, Mike's whole life, said he was proud. Now, he realized suddenly that he was looking to the wrong man to say those words. He had always thought it was Jill that had captured Eddie Ryker, dragging him somewhat kicking and screaming into the Danko family. He was stunned to discover that it was him. He relaxed a little, feeling a tightness in his chest finally loosen - it had been there a long, long time.
They sat together a long time in silence. Mike fought to get his emotions under control, and Eddie simply waited patiently; supportive. After a few minutes, Mike finally found himself capable of speech again.
"We should get back. Amy will notice." He said at last.
"We should." Ryker agreed.
They rose together, and crossed the park side by side; father and son.
***R***
Jill Danko stood in front of the mirror in her bedroom trying to contemplate her reflection with an objective eye. It was not easy. The image reflected back was not perfect. It was marred. She chewed at the corner of her lip. She was still bandaged, but the difference was clear. It wasn't as if she had been going through life as a double D, and in fact in her younger days had mourned her small chest; now she would give just about anything to have it back.
She didn't mean to be ungrateful. She was happy beyond belief to be out of the hospital and home. It had been such a strain to be surrounded day after day with friends and well-wishers. She was a private woman in the grips of a deeply personal battle; trying to reconcile her drastically changed body, and how it would impact her world, her life; her husband. She understood that there were much worse types of cancers to have, but still it didn't change that she found it slightly embarrassing to talk about breast cancer with all of her friends and family. And everyone, well-meaning or not, was slightly curious. How would she look now? Would they be able to tell?
She studied her image, trying not to get caught up in the past. Her sister Amanda had pointed out to her time and again that Jill had always been thin and beautiful. She grew up hearing people around her say, "What a pretty child!" or "She's such a beautiful girl!" While she struggled with her skinny body, she was confident that the people around her found her pleasing to look at, and now, for the first time really, she wasn't so sure. It wasn't that she was vain - or maybe she was - she wasn't sure any longer. But it wasn't an area she thought much of. She could wear anything she wanted and it always looked nice, and she would brush out her shiny, dark hair, pleased at her image.
Now she was bald, her face puffy from the drugs. And she had one breast. It was pretty hard to accept. As for Mike, she knew his love was real and deep. Any man who could manage the things he had in the last few months, was clearly devoted. He'd cleaned up after her when she was sick, time and time again. He'd carried her to the bathroom when she'd been too weak to walk. He'd fed her ice chips in the hospital and patiently sat her bedside for hours on end, sleeping scrunched in an uncomfortable chair. He told her daily, no hourly, she was beautiful. But she didn't feel beautiful and she wondered if she ever would again.
She let a slow sigh transfixed by her own reflection. The door opened and Mike stepped into the room.
"Honey, do you feel up to . . ." He froze seeing her standing there. "Hey, sweetheart." He said closing the door and moving to stand behind her. His eyes met hers in the mirror. "What are you thinking?" He asked wrapping his arms around her.
"I don't know." She said honestly.
"Wanna know what I'm thinking?" He asked her with one eyebrow raised. She nodded her head.
"I'm thinking, I'm the luckiest man in the world." He kissed her cheek, and turned her so she faced him. He took the shirt she'd been holding in her hands and draped it over her shoulders. She slid her arms into the sleeves and then he buttoned it carefully.
"I'm married to the most beautiful woman to ever take a breath. I've got three gorgeous daughters, who are smart and sweet, just like their mama. I guess things are pretty good." He said smiling at her.
"Danko," She said softly. "You might be leaving out some details."
"Nothing important." He grinned at her, and shaking her head at him, she melted into his arms, resting her head against his chest. "All our lives, everywhere we go, people stop to look you and they think, 'How the hell did that guy wind up with that beautiful woman!' It's hard not to be jealous."
"I'm pretty sure you don't have to worry about that anymore." She said into his collarbone.
"You don't see clearly just now." He said patiently. He turned her so she faced the mirror again, keeping his arms around her. "You see all the things that are missing - your hair, your breast. I see all the things that are there."
"What?" She asked quietly. "What do you see?"
"A fighter. The bravest person I know, and the sweetest, too. You got the purest heart, Jill. You are always looking for the good in folks - like Winfield." He raised an eyebrow. "And you are so loving - even now. You were so thoughtful of everyone else's feelings even at the hospital. You didn't want people to be upset or uncomfortable. You take care of them first. And you are such a good Mama. You know our girls so well, and you are so patient with them."
"Did you start the day drinking?" She asked trying to deflect him.
"Uh, uh. Don't do that. I'm serious Baby." He admonished her. "You don't like praise." He said with a laugh. "You always try and toss it aside. I don't know why that is, but it's true. You are good at everything you do, too. It's ridiculous. You are the best nurse at that hospital - everyone says so, and always has. Liz Conners can talk for hours about it. And you are the best cop's wife - the way you manage it - the stress and worry. How many women have you helped since I graduated? How many of them call you when the stress gets too much? Terry says they tell the wives during Academy training now - 'You got questions about how to be a cop's wife, call Jill Danko.'"
"I'm not . . .I don't . . ."
"And, you've got the longest legs I've ever seen. You wear a short skirt and I'm done for! You could ask for anything and I'd say yes. And you've got those ridiculously huge brown eyes. I'm glad that Kate and Amy have them, too. I love looking into your eyes, but not just because they are so beautiful. It's the way your eyes see me - as though I'm someone special." He paused, slightly embarrassed. "Well, that's what I see everytime I look at you. You are the most beautiful woman in the world; always."
Unable to speak, she looked again at her reflection trying to see herself as Mike did. Their eyes met in the reflection, and she wiped at the tears that ran down her face. He turned her toward him again, and pulled her close, but gently careful not to hurt her. He began to sway, saying nothing, but dancing with her even though there wasn't any music at all.
***R***
In the middle of everything, Lizzie Danko turned six. Her birthday party was held two days before Jill began what everyone prayed would be her final round of chemotherapy. She had recovered well from her surgery and had eliminated all drugs from her routine. It was the strongest and clearest she'd been since the whole ordeal began. She spent the day before the party baking and getting things ready. She was elbow deep in some sort of fairy wing project when she turned to Mike and said, "Chris is coming, right?"
"I don't think so Babe. Megan and the boys will be here so probably not." He explained.
They had somehow managed, mostly because of Jill's impressive diplomatic skills, to remain close to both Chris and Megan. Mike was the only one to visit Chris while he was at rehab. His young sons refused and Megan couldn't face him. The boys had leaned heavily on Mike when Chris had still been drinking, and even more so after he was finally sober. They'd needed a father figure to guide them through their pain and betrayal. And it was Mike, Megan had called at three in the morning on that horrible night so long ago. He arrived, Jill just a step behind, to find Chris angry, drunk and cursing. The boys were hiding in the space behind the stairs and Megan sat huddled on the couch crying, her face badly bruised.
Jill had surprised Mike. He thought there was no way she would ever, ever forgive Chris. But she tolerated his support of Chris, especially after rehab. Chris had even written a letter to Jill apologizing, but this was the first time she'd asked for him to come back to their house. She had spoken to him on the phone on many occasions and had met Mike and him for dinner once since that terrible, dark night. He'd visited her in the hospital twice but this was different.
"He should be here." She said looking up.
"You sure? Babe? It will be complicated."
"I've got cancer." She said cheerfully. "People have to do what I say. His part of our family and our family needs healing."
"Jill!" His eyes were wide with shock.
"Oh, yeah." She grinned at him. "I'm using it. I'm bald, twenty pounds too thin, and permanently deformed. I'm getting my way."
"I'll talk to him, but Baby, you've got to talk to Megan." He said unable to imagine the two of them in the same room. "How would you feel if I . . ."
"You would NEVER lay a finger on me, Michael." She cut him off sharply.
"I bet there was a time Megan would've said the same." He countered.
"No," She said. "Chris isn't like you. He's always had a well of anger. He used to yell at her, long before he drank."
"What?" He asked surprised.
"It was private." She explained. "Between us wives. He didn't manage the stress of work well. He didn't talk to her - not like you and me. He played the tough guy at home too."
"I'm not a tough guy?" He asked.
She laughed. "You're plenty macho, Babe." She hit the last word hard, emphasizing what some of her feminist friends had pointed out to her many times. "But you've got an openness, sweetheart. If you feel hurt, you tell me."
He considered this. He hadn't really thought much about his friend's marriage. He'd assumed that it was pretty much like his - which is why Chris' behavior had been so shocking. He could never, ever imagine a situation where he'd hurt Jill. The very thought made him physically ill.
"I'll talk to her. You talk to him."
***R***
It was always surreal to go back to the apartment complex. It had been their very first home. He passed apartment number twenty seven, remembering all those nights running up the stairs, happy to be home, rushing to her. He turned the corner and knocked at number thirty-five.
"Mike!" Chris said surprised. "Something hasn't happened, has it?"
"No." He shook his head. "You worry like an old woman!"
"You don't come by too often and the last time you did, it was to tell me James had a broken arm."
He stepped back and Mike followed him in. Stepping into the apartment was a time warp. The layout of Chris' apartment was the same as theirs had been, although it had been modernized years ago. Of course, apartment twenty-seven had been a real home with Jill's feminine touches everywhere - Chris' apartment was stark.
"So, what brings you out to bachelor-ville? I can't imagine you two are fighting."
"It's Lizzie's birthday party tomorrow and we were hoping you'd be there." Mike said.
"No." Chris said flatly without any hesitation.
"No? Just no?"
"You know why." Chris said leaning against the counter already angry.
"Jill asked me to ask you. She wants you there." Mike decided to go straight for the throat.
"Well, you'll have to explain it."
"Oh no! You can come back with me and tell her yourself. I'm not gonna. I'm gonna go home and tell her I invited you."
"Mike, don't. Megs will be there. I can't face her. I can't face the boys. Everyone will be . . ."
"Chris, I told you. Nobody knows. Megan, you, Ryker, me and Jill. I didn't even tell Terry." Mike reassured him. "It was a bad night. It was the bottom. But that guy is gone."
Chris sat down across from Mike in an easy chair, his head in his hands. "I can't do it, man. I can't. I loved her and I hurt her. I can still see her eyes. I can't see her. I can't be in the same room and not be with her. I'm too . . . I am so ashamed." He shook himself. "Tell Jill I am really, really sorry and that I so appreciate her inviting me but I can't be there."
"You still love her, man." Mike said. "You do.
"Ah, god dammit Mike! What the hell do you know about it? You and your goddam perfect marriage! Everything you do is so damn perfect!" Chris exploded.
"Yep. Everything's perfect in my house." Mike said pointedly, his voice cold. He rose furious. "So you come on over to my perfect house and look my bald wife in the eyes and tell her you aren't man enough to face your mistakes. You tell her she can't have her whole family - which is what she called you - tell her she can't her family all in one place two days before she starts chemo again because it's just too damn hard on you! But you better do it soon. Cancer's a real fickle son of a bitch, and you never know what that bastard's gonna do." He left without waiting for a response slamming the door behind him.
He was too angry to go straight home. Jill would know and he couldn't explain it to her. He drove around for awhile and finally found himself pulling into Terry's driveway.
Terry's wife, Beth opened the door. The first day that Jill had met Beth, which happened to be Terry and Beth's third date, Jill had said, "He's going to marry her!"
Terry had a deep, brooding personality. Jill had always teased him telling him he needed to think less. He was quick to laugh but had a seriousness underneath. Beth was his mirror opposite. She was always smiling, always hopeful and quick to say, "Terry, let it go!"
She had visited Jill daily since her diagnosis and always seemed to lift Jill's spirits. If Mike hadn't already loved Beth before Jill's cancer, her support of Jill would've sealed it.
"Mike! Thank God!" She said seeing him. "He's got MJ out there in the garage with him - helping! I am not comfortable with my six year old handling power tools. Please talk him out of it!"
"Oh, MJ can handle it. He's a man." He said with a grin.
"You really want your namesake using a power saw?" She asked with one eyebrow raised.
"No!" He said horrified. "I'm on it! Can you do me a favor and call Jill? She wasn't expecting me to come here."
"I'll do better than that. I was just packing up all of Jenny's gear and heading over there." She smiled at him. "You carry out her playpen and I'll tell her in person. You think you boys can manage MJ?"
"I hope so."
He carried the playpen out and put it in the back of their Bronco. Beth carried eighteen month old Jenny out in her hip. She squealed and clapped her hands seeing Mike.
"Unca Mike!" She stretched her arms to him.
He smiled and lifted her out of her mother's arms.
"Princess Jen Jen!" He said kissing her forehead. Her bright green eyes gleaming with joy as he did.
"She's got the worst crush on you." Beth said laughing and shaking her head. "It's those damn eyes of yours." She lifted Jenny out of his arms.
"I've got nothing on her eyes!" He laughed.
She buckled Jenny into her carseat. "You alright, Mike?" She asked.
"Yeah." He said rubbing the back of his neck. "Thanks for taking such good care of Jill. It means a lot."
"Jill's easy to love." She said with a wide smile. "But I don't have to tell you that, do I?"
He shook his head with a grin. "No, ma'am."
"Go on, don't let my baby boy cut off his arm." She pushed him toward the workshop around behind the garage.
"What are you boys doing?" He asked coming around the corner. MJ was contentedly hammering away at a block of wood.
"Michael! Aw, man did Beth call you? That woman! Like I'm gonna let MJ use a buzz saw!"
"I just happened by." Mike said. "Hey! Little Mike! What'd ya say?"
"Uncle Mike!" MJ smiled up at him. "I'm making Lizzie a present!"
"Oh! She'll love it!" Mike said.
"What's up man? You look stressed. Jill okay?"
"Yeah. She's good. Beth just headed that way to help with fairy projects, I guess." He sighed. "She wants Chris to come to the party."
"Oh!" Terry shook his head. "Leave to Nurse Danko to demand world peace."
"Yeah. I talked to him but . . ." He looked in the distance. "Sometimes talking to Chris is pretty hard."
"Yeah, it was easier when he was drunk all the time." Terry agreed. "I guess I'm a terrible person for thinking that, but honestly, most of the time it kind of was."
"Everything is so intense with him. I worry sometimes. He still carries so much guilt. I mean he earned it, but when is enough enough? I don't want him to start drinking again, but he is so bitter." Mike sighed.
"Why won't you tell me what happened? It's been years, man." Terry asked.
"I don't know. It was . . .at first I couldn't process it and then later, I was afraid if what you'd do if I told you. I still kind of am. You've got a temper Terry - especially when good people have been wronged. And he wronged them - Megan, James and Josh. He treated them badly. Besides, you had enough on your plate back then."
"Me?" Terry laughed. "I was a happy-go-lucky newlywed buying my first home in the suburbs."
"I think you might have forgotten some details." Mike said laughing.
"What? The KKK welcome committee? Shit! That weren't nothing! Happens to everyone right? I mean you married a white girl, too. Same thing happened to you right?"
Mike shook his head. "It didn't seem fair to pile more on. I can't even think about that night, even now."
"He hit her." Terry said surprising Mike. "That's what I figure. It's the only thing that makes sense. I mean, Megan's a sweetheart - would forgive anyone of anything, so it had to be that he hit her. I know it wasn't the boys because we took them that first night, and they were fine. It had to be her. Plus, I don't think I've ever seen Jill that pissed - not ever."
"She called us up at three in the morning, sobbing. Eddie had spent the night - he'd stayed late too tired to go back home, so we left the kids with him, and took off. I don't know why I let Jill come along. It was pretty stupid in hindsight. He was drunker than I'd ever seen him, and cursing up a storm. He could've hurt us both. I should've called the cops." Mike confessed.
"You are the cops." Terry said.
"The boys were hiding, and Megan was just sobbing - her eye was black already and she had bruises on her face and arms. I thought I was gonna have to hold Jill back. Thank God that girl doesn't carry a gun!" He shook his head, trying to free himself of the horrible memory. "I had to cuff him, Terry. He was swinging still - landed a good couple on me. Fortunately, he passed out pretty quick. Jill took Megan and the boys to our place. And I stayed with him and drove him to rehab as soon as the sun rose."
"I can't picture it. It is impossible to believe." Terry said. "I mean, I kind of always thought that's what happened, but he hurt her? Chris? He loved Megan."
"He still does." Mike sighed. "But Jill said he always had a temper. I don't remember that. I never noticed it, did you?"
"I don't know. It was so hard adjusting to him. Willie and me were like brothers, you know. Having a different partner was kind of hard to deal with. Maybe I should have done a better job with him. He never wanted to talk about stuff after. He acted like everything was no big deal. Even that time you got shot and we found Jill - he never talked about that." Terry said. "I met with the department counselor twice over that one. I was so sure it was too late, and we'd have to go and tell you she was gone, and then there she was - God she looked like hell! She just fell into my arms just shaking like a leaf, asking for you, if you were alright. I couldn't sleep that night, every time I closed my eyes, I could see her face, but he wouldn't even talk about it. All those cases too, the dead kids, the widows, the old ladies who'd had their whole fortunes taken, the car accidents - he's never once talked about it. We should have known he was struggling. We should have seen it, I guess."
"I don't know man, looking backwards doesn't do you any good. We were young. We had families and lives of our own. And you did try and talk to him. And all of that is no excuse. You'd never hurt Beth." Mike looked up at him.
"No." Terry agreed. "We've had some fights! But the idea of it - makes me sick. I guess that's why it is hard to understand. I know why you didn't tell me. You've got too much respect for Megan. I'm amazed you've stuck by him, and that Jill would even want to be around him."
"Cancer puts things in perspective." Mike said flatly.
"It does that." Terry agreed. "Willie and I decided once, that if you ever got killed, we'd marry Jill."
"Really?" Mike said surprised. "Both of you."
"Yeah. Willie had a mormon cousin who'd do the ceremony. He had the worst crush on her!"
"Me too." Mike said. "I miss him."
"Yeah." Terry agreed. "You talk to Julie?"
"From time to time. Jill does. She called Jill a few weeks back. She'd heard Jill was sick. It's hard for her, I think. Painful. She has to move on, I guess."
"We all do. He'd be here now. He would've flown out as soon as he heard." Terry said. "He would've been able to make her laugh, too. He was good at that."
"Yeah." Mike rubbed a hand over his face. "You are supposed to be cheering me up, Webster. You are doing a pretty crappy job of it."
"I am." Terry agreed.
"Crappy!" Little Mike said looking up at his father and uncle.
"Great!" Terry said. "Don't talk like that MJ. Just because you've got the same name as Uncle Mike, doesn't mean you should talk like him."
"Don't say that word to your Mama, buddy." Mike said lifting the small boy into his arms. "So, what are we gonna do about Chris?"
"Nothing. You invited him?"
"Yeah, he turned me down." Mike said.
"It's up to him now. I can't imagine him wanting to face Megan again. I can't imagine him wanting to face Jill. But he knows she wanted him there. His decision about that is something he's gonna have to live with." Terry said.
"Yeah, I guess." He looked at MJ. "You are getting pretty heavy there buddy. You been eating lots of Wheaties?"
"I'm gonna be big and strong, just like you, Uncle Mike." He said with a grin.
"You wanna be tough? You wanna be a strong guy?" Mike asked him.
"Yes!" MJ shouted gleefully.
"You ought try and be like Auntie Jill then." Terry told his son. "Nobody tougher than her." He said with an eyebrow raised at Mike.
"Nobody." Mike agreed.
"Damn straight!" MJ said repeating a phrase he'd heard his father utter on more than one occasion.
"Beth's gonna kill me." Terry said with a sigh.
"Yes, sir." Mike agreed laughing.