Author's notes:

Thank you to beta reader/critique partner extraordinaire Sue Shay! Without her expertise and critical eye I would not have pursued this project. Have you checked out the latest developments in Sue's Patrick-and-Teresa story of love and family, "Ready or Not?" Be sure to do so! Big doings in the latest chapter!

I do not own the TV show The Mentalist and get no compensation from it. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes only.

Notes on the chapter title follow the end of the chapter.

Chapter 10: It's A Lovely Day Today

After hearing Patrick exit the front door, Teresa drifted back to sleep. When she awakened again it was to the whiff of bacon in the air and the clatter of dishes in the kitchen. She rolled over to look at the bedside clock. 7:00am. Getting up, she made her way towards the smells and sounds.

In the kitchen yet one more surprise greeted her. Patrick stood over the stove, an apron tied around his front, frying pan in one hand and spatula in the other. His back to her, he spoke.

"Ah, Teresa. Good morning! Why don't you get the orange juice out of the fridge while I finish up here?"

"How did you know that…"

"How did I know that you were skulking around behind me?"

"I wouldn't have used 'skulk,' but yes, how did you know?"

Patrick turned to face her as he raised his eyebrows.

"Ah, Teresa, that's a trade secret. Just chalk that up to my psychic abilities."

Teresa mustered the best mock-stern expression she could.

"Ha, ha. You're not psychic, you told me that yourself. It's just…just your keen observational skills."

In turn, Patrick gave his own exaggerated expression of slapping his forehead.

"Ugh. I said too much. The first rule of the con - never give away too much information to the mark."

"So now I'm a mark? And here I thought we were friends."

She meant it in jest, only to tease, but Teresa's words had an impact on Patrick beyond what she wanted. The levity in his eyes defined by the crinkles around the edges vanished, replaced by a glum downturn of his whole face. She regretted that the words ever left her mouth.

"I'm sorry, Teresa. Can we start over again?"

The whistle of the tea kettle got the attention of both of them, and she reached over to the stove behind him to shut off the cap it was on.

"There's no need. I'm not hurt. You don't treat me as a mark."

Instead of the intended effect to restore the upbeat mood, his face drooped further as his body sagged against the kitchen counter.

"But I have in the past, Teresa. Ever since your attack, I've rethought a lot of things."

Maybe other people couldn't tell but something she could feel yet not define assured her that he was sincere. She reached over to lift his chin so their eyes would meet.

"You told me that you'd taken advantage of our relationship in the past. Yet I get this sense that maybe the old me knew that all along, that maybe you and I had some unspoken understanding." Teresa let her fingers linger just below Patrick's cheek. "Isn't that right?"

"I think so, Teresa."

She smiled and gently slapped his cheek.

"Good. So don't do that again!" Teresa glanced behind Patrick and saw a butcher knife on the counter. "Otherwise, I'll have to use that on you." Teresa laughed as she nodded to the knife. He followed her line of sight then made a staged shudder.

"Please have mercy on me. I'm a work in progress, my dear."

"My dear" brought back the warmth that first greeted Teresa when she entered the kitchen.

Something is different about Patrick this morning. What is it?

As his face brightened again, Teresa's fingers, which had never left his face, felt something that her eyes confirmed.

"You shaved!" She ran her fingertips across both sides of his face. What had seemed to be a perpetual three-day growth of scratchy beard had been replaced by silky-smooth skin. With a languid motion, she let the tips of her fingers brush across his cheek.

"Sometimes I let myself go when I get preoccupied," Patrick replied.

Stepping back from him, Teresa crossed her arms.

"I'm not sure which I like better, that rugged, albeit scruffy recluse or the slicked up man-about-town."

"Perhaps you can mull that over while we're eating. The eggs are starting to get cold, and neither of us likes that. I also put on some coffee for you." Patrick reached behind him to present her with a steaming mug. "It's the way you always like it."

Teresa inhaled the rich aroma that rose from the cup. Taking a sip, she moaned with delight.

After eating (Patrick's eggs and bacon are delicious!), the two of them cleared the dishes. Patrick removed his apron which caused a wistful feeling to well up inside Teresa. He had looked so…domestic…with it on. Tugging on his suit jacket, he spun around to look at her.

"Well, I'm off to CBI. You've got my number on your cell phone, and the rookie agent du jour is at a discreet distance outside. I'll be back this afternoon."

As the two of them faced each other, the word "domestic" flitted through Teresa's thoughts again. She felt like she should do something, but what?

"What would you like for dinner tonight, Patrick?"

Now Patrick was tongue-tied. After three beats he finally spoke.

"You don't have to do anything special for me. But having said that…"

"Yes?"

"If you wanted to make pasta of some sort, I would enjoy that."

"Pasta it is." Teresa's smile answered Patrick's own.

What she really wanted to tell him was that she would miss him today, it would be the longest that she'd gone without him around her since the attack. In her heart she wished they could sit on the sofa all day long and watch the old movie channel together. In her head she knew he had to work - work with the Three Musketeers to figure out who had attacked her.

Patrick hesitated. If Teresa didn't know any better, she'd think the same thoughts had flickered through his mind too. After another three beats of silence, he reached over to pat her arm.

"I look forward to it," he said.

"And I look forward to the movie tonight," she replied.

With a wave, Patrick exited. Teresa stared at the door as she heard his steps fade away.

"I wish you were staying with me today, Patrick," she whispered to the four walls.

When Teresa had called him mid-day to ask him to bring home some grocery items, Patrick's mind drifted back to his days with Angela, days from another lifetime. He remembered the times his wife called him to "bring home a thing or two." Now as he pushed a cart down the aisle between the cereal and nuts, he tried to figure out where dishwasher detergent was in this grocery store. Was it next to hand soap? Or was it across from cleaning supplies? After another fifteen minutes he had tracked down everything on Teresa's list.

As he pushed the cart toward the check-out area, the front wheel spun wildly as it jammed and unjammed. The swerving movements of the cart raised Patrick's ire, enough that he silently cursed the errand he was on.

The wheel jammed again, enough to jerk the cart off its path into a sharp right turn. Patrick looked down at it, and in a flash a memory filled his thoughts.

This cart is just like the gurney in the forest.

Reliving the anguish made him shudder. He reminded himself that he'd been given a gift: Teresa returned. Don't ever take that good fortune for granted.

Patrick shook himself out of his reverie and smiled as he realized where he was in the store. Spying the refrigerated display case to his left, he peered inside it to look at all the different colorful choices. Then he did something he hadn't done in the years since Angela - he opened the glass door to make a selection.

Teresa heard the scratching around the door and wondered if she should call the CBI agent du jour as Patrick had called her protective detail. As she reached for her phone, the noise around the door took on a precise sound - a key twisting around the lock. She relaxed. Before she could move toward the door though, it burst open like a slingshot hurling around its load. Grocery bags spilled onto the living room floor followed by a man with wavy blond hair tumbling in. A grapefruit from one of the bags rolled across the floor until Teresa trapped it under her left foot. Looking to Patrick, she saw him sprawled amid four upended bags. Despite the chaos around him, one thing hadn't hit the floor. In his right hand, through some super-human effort, he held aloft a vase filled with flowers. A lovely autumn mix of reds, yellows, and oranges.

Teresa took three steps over and looked down on a boyish grin of triumph as Patrick handed the flowers up to her.

"I saw these and thought you'd like them for the kitchen table."

"They're beautiful. I'm glad they didn't spill, Patrick."

"Me too," he said as he slowly gathered everything else back into the bags. "You always liked these seasonal arrangements."

"I still like them," Teresa said as she sniffed their fragrance with a deep breath. Setting the vase down on the kitchen table, she helped Patrick put away the groceries.

"So, what did you do today?" Patrick asked later as he sacked the trash from the waste basket.

"Well, the first part of the morning I watched television. I may not have my memory but it didn't feel like that's something I'd normally do."

"Ugggh. I agree. Nothing good to watch during the daytime."

"Tell me about it. It seemed like every channel had reruns of cop shows, and my mind is working good enough to see that those shows have no link to reality."

Patrick shrugged his shoulders.

"You could say that about any fiction - books, movies, TV shows. They all take liberties."

"Yeah, but on top of that those cop shows all looked alike."

"How's that?"

"No matter what channel I flipped to, no matter what show, they seemed to have a pattern."

"Oh, do tell me what pattern you deduced, Agent Lisbon."

"Most often they have two leading characters."

"That idea's been around at least since Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson."

"I did notice a little variation. Sometimes the two leads are of different sexes."

"One could argue that those shows add a certain dynamic, a sexual tension to attract the viewer."

"Yeah, if it's done right. Otherwise, it comes off forced. No art, no humor, no chemistry."

"Agreed."

"What if we were the characters on a TV show, Patrick?"

Patrick scoffed at her words.

"It'd never work. We're too much grounded in the real world for something like a TV show."

"Oh, I don't know about that. Think about it. Me, a senior agent in a law enforcement agency. You, my consultant in solving crimes."

"Now that you mention it…" Patrick smiled.

"We'd be just as good as the ones you see TV, better really."

"You've got a point, Teresa."

"I'd be the lead character and you'd be my sidekick."

Patrick's smile left him. "Not hardly."

When they sat down to dinner, Patrick gushed over Teresa's cooking. With his first bite of her pesto primavera, he closed his eyes to savor the taste.

Where did she learn to cook like this?

When he opened his eyes, he found Teresa staring at him with a hopeful look.

"My dear, this is wonderful. You never told me you were such a good cook."

She beamed.

"Works both ways, Patrick. Breakfast was delicious too."

"We found out something new about each other, Teresa. So, tell me about the rest of your day."

"The truth? I missed you being here. That is until later in the morning."

"What happened?"

"I had a visitor right before lunch time."

"Visitor?"

"Yeah, the new Assistant Manager of this condo complex. You know, CBI isn't the only place that's run by titles and acronyms. Everybody we ran into who knew the Assistant Manager used the initials A.M. Kinda like CBI people use 'Boss' or 'Agent.'"

"Everybody you ran into?"

"Yeah. We talked for a long time here. Eventually the A.M. invited me to lunch over at the snack bar in the main condo building, even bought my meal for me."

"Just how long did you spend with this A.M.?" Patrick hoped that Teresa didn't detect any tension in his voice.

"I lost track. It seemed like the time just flew by. Lunch was so much fun, sharing a laugh, finding out about each other, discovering what we have in common. It made me feel alive. I had been so lonely after you left."

"Come to CBI with me tomorrow, Teresa."

Why am I on edge? I don't own Teresa. Where has my self-control gone?

"Oh. I didn't know you wanted me to come with you."

"I think it'll be good for you, let you get a feel for your workplace, see if anything clicks."

The voice inside Patrick's head was raging: Was that the real reason you wanted her to come with you tomorrow? It wouldn't be any feelings of… Stop it!

Patrick tried to clamp down on his out-of-control thoughts but failed because of what Teresa said next.

"I didn't know you wanted me to go with you to CBI. The A.D. and I had made plans for tomorrow. We were going to spend the afternoon together."

"Cancel. Come with me." Did my voice come off as strident? Insistent? Why can't I control myself?

"But I had so much fun. I didn't want lunch to end."

"I need you, Teresa."

Ahhh! That's not what I'd wanted to say at all. Must…control…tongue…Must…control…tongue… Thankfully Teresa didn't seem to catch what came out of his mouth.

"Then the Manager of the complex stopped by our table. When he looked at the two of us he shook his head."

"Was he mad that his assistant had spent the morning with you?" I hope Teresa didn't notice the edge in my voice.

"That's what I thought too, but instead he laughed. The manager told us that we looked like sisters."

"Oh." Patrick hoped that Teresa didn't catch the little sigh that came out under his breath. Luckily, Teresa was in the midst of a cough and had turned her head away. The poor dear had gotten choked on some food, and when she turned back to Patrick, her eyes were watery.

That was close! I've got to get myself under control.

"Yeah. He said Sunshine and I looked a lot alike."

"Sunshine? Interesting name. What commune was she born on?"

"Oh, hush. That's just her nickname. Anyway, Sunshine and I were gonna go shopping tomorrow, but now that you want me to come with you I guess we'll have to change plans."

Patrick felt relief wash over him. Surely he had retained his self-control enough to mask any emotions from Teresa.

Oh how Teresa had enjoyed seeing Patrick squirm when she talked about Sunshine! It didn't dawn on her until the middle of their conversation that she hadn't mentioned Sunshine's gender and that her words could take on more than one meaning. Only when she noticed Patrick cross his arms and purse his lips did she realize what she had said - and hadn't said. Was Patrick upset? Maybe just a little jealous? She tested more, and his physical tics increased. His fists clenched.

I do affect Patrick!

When at last she told him about the "sisters" remark, you could have heard that thunderous sigh of his into the next county. Teresa had to bite her lip. Turning her head, she forced a cough to strangle her guffaw. Her effort to stifle herself caused the sides of her eyes to moisten, and she rubbed the sleeve of her blouse across her face. When she turned back to face Patrick, he had composed himself again. Or tried to.

He looks so cute when he's trying to cover up from me!

The rest of the evening flew by. Patrick quizzed Teresa on a variety of topics - school, family, job history - all with the same result. She knew a lot about things in general, but she knew nothing about people in specific. And "people" also included her personal history. Her upbeat mood withered as the list of all she had forgotten grew.

Thank God for Patrick. He had sensed her growing despair and eased up on the pace of questions. Still, she couldn't avoid feeling downcast by the end of their session. Teresa revived though when Patrick clasped both her hands in his.

"Teresa, I know this has been hard for you. It's hard for me too. I hate seeing you like this, but Dr. Suchman says this will help in the long run."

Teresa nodded as she dabbed her eyes with a tissue.

"It's just that so much is gone from my mind. It's daunting."

"We'll keep at it. You're making progress, my dear."

"My dear" prompted Teresa to reach out for Patrick. She embraced him with as tight a squeeze as she could muster. His patience, his kindness, his concern had made the process bearable. On impulse, Teresa kissed his cheek.

"I couldn't do this without you, Patrick."

Patrick rocked her back and forth in his arms until the tension left her. A certain awkwardness crept up on the two of them, and in silence they broke apart to clean the debris from dinner off the table. After that they retired to their bedrooms to change, promising to return in time for that night's Fred-and-Ginger movie.

Is this what married life is like? Is this like the life Patrick used to know with his wife? For her a life like that was a mystery, and her memory loss didn't have anything to do with that.

While she sat on the bed in her room thinking about that, Teresa heard Patrick walk back to the living room. After putting on her Chicago Bears jersey she followed a moment later. Once in the living room she plopped down on the sofa beside him and Patrick switched on the old movie channel. Soon they both became caught up in Swing Time.

Too soon, much too soon, the movie ended. Teresa realized that she had leaned forward through much of the movie, so wrapped up in it that she couldn't wait to see what Fred and Ginger did next. When she stole a look at Patrick, he was staring at her with a bemused look.

"What are you looking at?" she asked.

"You. How relaxed you are. It's rare, if ever, that I've seen you like you are now."

"I was just enjoying Fred and Ginger."

"My point exactly, Teresa. You let yourself have fun."

"How could you not watching them?"

"I'm just glad you enjoyed it - and I got to see you enjoy it."

Patrick stood and extended his hand to help Teresa to her feet. In the hallway they bid each other goodnight and Teresa found herself once again in her bedroom, alone with her thoughts.

Her favorite scene in the movie had been when Fred and Ginger sang "Pick Yourself Up" to each other followed shortly with dancing. Their dance started in a circled area bounded by a low-slung fence. Awkward at first, they quickly fell in sync with each other. Soon their movements took them to the edges of the circle and eventually they leaped over the fence, still dancing with abandon. At the end Fred and Ginger walked away arm-in-arm in triumph.

Why did jumping over the fence enthrall Teresa so much? Something about the couple moving beyond their boundaries appealed to her. There was a feeling that lurked just beyond what her mind could grasp, a feeling that she wanted to break free like Fred and Ginger.

And she knew whom she'd like to break free with.

To be continued.

Irving Berlin wrote "It's a Lovely Day Today" in 1950. The song celebrates the idea of a couple simply enjoying each other's company. Sound familiar? My favorite recording is Ella Fitzgerald's version on her album Ella Fitzgerald Sings the Irving Berlin Songbook.

"Pick Yourself Up" is a better known song, written by Jerome Kern and Dorothy Fields in 1936. Many, many singers have recorded "Pick Yourself Up," but my favorite remains Ella Fitzgerald's version on the album Ella Swings Brightly With Nelson.

I recommend both these songs anytime someone has the blues and wants a pick-me-up.

Thank you for reading, following, and reviewing the story.