Ah, coffee.
Real, un-watered down coffee was something Hogan had learned to never take for granted after his time in Stalag 13, and it was the perfect morning to sit around and enjoy it.
The sun was shining cheerily through the kitchen window, lighting up the thin muslin curtains softly. He could hear birds chirping outside, and through the screen door he could see a pair of robins hopping merrily around the lawn, searching for worms for breakfast.
He had been up late last night reviewing the budget for the Policeman's Charity Ball, which he found to be a complete mess from the last sheriff that had been in charge of it. Hogan had managed to straighten it out fairly easily once he'd deciphered all the little notes that the former Sheriff LaFever had left all over the ledger - he had never imagined that he would need to use his code cracking skills from the military academy here, of all places.
Other than that, he was pleased with what he had accomplished, and had been able to cut down the expenses by replacing "Higgins and His Singing Cow (Performing 'Wiener Blut' Operetta)" with the local youth drama club as the scheduled entertainment.
Mid coffee-sip, Hogan heard footsteps coming down the stairs leading to the kitchen. He could tell it was Newkirk, since the footfalls were too heavy to belong to Lizzy.
A few moments later, Hogan's deducing skills were proven correct by the appearance of his English friend.
"Good mornin' sir," Newkirk greeted, a large, unnatural smile on his face.
"Morning," replied Hogan, setting his coffee cup down warily.
"A fine day, isn't it, sir? How are you?"
"Alright, Newkirk, what do you want?"
"Want? What makes you think I want something from you, sir?"
"It's way too early for you to be this pleasant. Plus, you keep calling me 'sir.' What's up?"
"Nothing. I was just wondering...what do you happen to 'ave planned today?" Newkirk asked.
"Nothing. That's my plan," replied Hogan, taking another sip of coffee.
"Good, so you're free."
"Yes. Free to do nothing. I haven't had a day off since...1939," mused Hogan. "It'll be strange, doing nothing, but I think I'll be able to handle it for one day just fine."
"Now you're making me feel guilty asking you to watch Lizzy," said Newkirk with a wry smile.
"What?! Why?"
"Only for an hour...maybe two. I'm picking me sister Mavis up from the airport in Cleveland. She...she's coming to the states for a visit. Been plannin' it for almost a month."
"What?! Why? When were you planning on telling me this?"
"Oh, I don't know, maybe about an hour after she got here?"
"Newkirk…."
"Oh, come off it, sir. She won't be any trouble. I promise," Newkirk assured.
Hogan hesitated.
"What about Lizzy?"
"Well," said Newkirk with a smile, "I can't promise anything similar with her."
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"So...do you happen to have any plans for today?"
Hogan's question was posed from the safe vantage point of the hallway just outside Lizzy's door, where the little girl in question was having a tea party with a motley crew of dolls and what appeared to be a garden gnome from the neighbor's lawn.
Lizzy shook her head, and poured the gnome some imaginary tea.
"Alright, then I guess I'll-"
"Sit with me," said Lizzy, pointing to the spot on the rug next to her.
Hogan, never one to disobey a direct order, sat down next to the small girl.
"Want some tea, sir?" she asked, getting him a mismatched cup and saucer.
"Oh, yeah, sure."
He accepted his imaginary tea with grace, and watched as all of the inanimate tea party guests received their tea ration as well.
"So...is that the lawn gnome from the Stephenson's yard?" asked Hogan, gesturing to the party guest at his left.
"Yes, sir."
"Oh. Do they want it back?"
"No, sir. They know he's here."
"Oh, well, that's good. As long as they're not worried about his whereabouts…"
This statement struck Lizzy as extremely funny, and she demonstrated her amusement with a flurry of girlish giggles, a sound that made Hogan's chest feel a little funny. Nothing bad, just...funny.
"What are everyone's names?" he asked, after her spate of laughter had died down.
"This is Mrs. Smelly ," said Lizzy, pointing to a worn ragdoll on the other side of Hogan.
"Charmed."
"And this is Mr. Hambone, Barry, Dolly, Fluff, Daisy, Miss Pea, and Edward Stephenson," said Lizzy, introducing all of her tea party guests in counterclockwise order, ending with the gnome.
"And I'm Lizzy, and you're sir!" she concluded, pointed to herself and then Hogan and letting out another giggle.
Sir.
Was this was he was destined to be called the rest of his life by this little girl? A cold, formal term of respect, one he'd heard plenty during the war.
Lizzy was currently humming something to herself, a tune that Hogan didn't recognize, as she added more imaginary sugar to her imaginary tea, giving him a moment to think.
"Lizzy?"
She looked up.
High risk assignment I'm taking on here…
"You know...you can call me 'dad' too, if you want."
Lizzy didn't reply; she was staring off to the side of her room, a funny expression on her face.
"Lizzy? What do you think about that?"
As if to answer his question, the little girl promptly threw up on him.
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The drive to and from Cleveland was usually a traffic nightmare, but Newkirk was enjoying himself on this particular trip back.
His older sister, Mavis, was currently in the passenger seat, having just arrived in the States from England, and she had wasted no time in catching him up on everything that had been going on with their family and friends since he'd left.
"An' old Mrs. Keene, you remember 'er, the one who used to hang 'er laundry on our line, she got remarried to an American on leave, but Mum thinks it was a mite too quick. And Miss Clarke, from a few floors down, she got married also. She married 'erself a French officer, she did. They 'ad two little ones last time I saw them."
"How's your kids, Mave?" he asked, when he could get a word in.
"Oh, they're swell. Charlie's thinkin' of goin' to school for automobile repair, and little Evelyn, well, she ain't as little as she used to be. Grown up, she did."
Newkirk had always been extremely thankful that his whole family had survived the war at home, but the more he talked to Mavis the more he could read between the lines that their quality of life hadn't bounced back as quickly as those of people living in the States.
Nonetheless, she seemed very happy, and he wasn't going to bring up anything that might upset her when she was clearly very pleased at how everything had resolved itself and how everyone had made it through the war intact.
"An' what about you, Peter? Any wife for you yet?" Mavis asked as they grew closer to Huntingburg.
"No."
"Shame. Guess I won't be gettin' any nieces or nephews from you any time soon, then."
"I do have a daughter, though."
"Peter!" shrieked Mavis, with a tone that implied that if he was guilty of what her tone implied, he was about to become a very unhappy man.
"Calm down," he laughed good-naturedly, "she'd adopted."
Even after Newkirk's lengthy explanation of how he had suddenly acquired Lizzy, Mavis' expression was still rather thunderstruck.
"An' you're thinkin' you can do it by yourself, then?" she asked.
"Well...no. I got Colonel Hogan to 'elp out, you know. He's watchin' 'er right now, actually."
"Colonel Hogan?"
"Yeah. You didn't think I could afford to live in this country in me own house if I wasn't sharin' it. Sides, he's been good with Lizzy."
Mavis was silent for a little while before she finally spoke again.
"I don't envy that kid."
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When Newkirk and Mavis arrived at his house, they each took one of her suitcases and made their way to the front door.
"Nice place," Mavis remarked as he opened the door.
"Thanks," he replied absently, looking around to see where Hogan and Lizzy might be. He'd never left Hogan alone in charge of her before - hopefully nothing had gone wrong.
"Lizzy?" he called out.
No answer - but he did hear a noise on the stairs.
To his surprise, it was a very flustered looking Hogan who answered his call, coming down the stairs two at a time.
"Newkirk, something's wrong with Lizzy," he said, not even stopping to acknowledge Mavis' presence.
Without hesitation, the two siblings that had just arrived followed Hogan back up the stairs to the little room that Lizzy was in. Sure enough, she was laying on her happy ducky bedspread looking quite ill at ease.
"Liz, what's wrong?" Newkirk asked, kneeling down next to her bed.
"I don't feel good, daddy," she said softly.
"What happened?" asked Mavis, her question directed at Hogan.
"She was fine, then she just threw up all of a sudden."
"What's she been eating?"
"Uh…"
"She had cereal for breakfast this morning," said Newkirk. "What'd you give 'er for lunch?" he asked Hogan.
"Lunch?"
"You did feed the poor kid, didn't you?" asked Mavis, who reached over to feel Lizzy's forehead with the back of her hand.
"I offered, but she wasn't hungry," said Hogan, hoping that one missed meal didn't mean imminent starvation for the kid.
Mavis didn't reply; she gently motioned for Lizzy to open her mouth, which the little girl did compliantly. Mavis then peered into her eyes, gently tilting Lizzy's head up to get a better look.
"Looks like the poor thing is comin' down with the measles," was her conclusion.
"Measles?" replied Newkirk, with an expression similar to one he might have worn had Mavis told him Lizzy had contracted the Black Plague.
"Yeah. Her eyes look a bit pink, an' she got the beginnin' of spots in 'er mouth. She'll probably have that fever for about four days," said Mavis, obviously speaking from experience with her own children.
"What do we do?" asked Newkirk, looking down at the little girl.
"Make sure she gets plenty of rest, an' give 'er lots of water and juice," said Mavis, getting Lizzy's happy birdie blankie off the nightstand and gently laying it on the now-sleeping girl.
"That's it?" asked Hogan, feeling a little helpless.
"Yes. Let's go downstairs and see if you two hopeless blighters 'ave anything in the icebox I can give her."
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Even though Lizzy was currently sleeping peacefully, Hogan couldn't help but wonder what it would be like over the next few days - Mavis had said that she'd be sick for a little while, and he was beyond thankful to have the woman there for this.
If she hadn't been around, they probably would have had to call Lucy Carter over to see what she thought, but Hogan liked to keep that option as a last resort, mainly because of the amount of times they'd already bothered her, and especially because it had only been four days since she'd helped with the cereal-stuck-in-the-nose incident. He didn't want the woman to think they were completely helpless.
Hogan had learned plenty of ways to deal with sick men when he was in the Army Air Corps, but he really didn't think that putting a splint or tourniquet on Lizzy right now would really do much to help her.
He was currently standing outside her door, leaning against the doorframe, watching as she mumbled something in her sleep. Suddenly, her eyes popped open and landed on the figure in the doorway.
"Thirsty," was all she said.
Hogan carefully crept into the darkened room and retrieved the glass of water Mavis had left on the little girl's nightstand. Gently, he sat down on the edge of the bed and handed her the glass, which she took a few sips of before handing it back to him.
He stayed there a little longer, watching as she laid back and started to drift off again. Slowly, he got off the bed, and, will all the silence of someone sneaking into an office to steal secret paperwork, made his way back to the door.
He heard her make a small noise, so he turned to see if she'd woken up again.
"Goodnight, dad."
Hogan looked to see if Newkirk had come in the room behind him, but the Englishman was not there, so Lizzy must be addressing him.
His chest did that funny thing again.