Thursday ….
Meg's appointment at Windy City Women's Clinic was set for first thing in the morning. The lady Mountie felt apprehensive, gun shy after her last experience. Ten minutes before eight Meg was standing outside the clinic in a light jacket, holding her briefcase and take-out coffee cup. She hadn't eaten, partially because she would be having blood work and partially because her nerves cut her appetite.
"Good morning, Ms. Thatcher, you're early." Katie, the receptionist Meg had met her first time at the clinic, greeted her as she unlocked the front door.
"I'm always early." Meg forced a smile past the lump in her throat as she followed the young morning person inside the waiting room.
"It's the best way to get stuff done." Katie tucked a strand of honey blonde hair behind her ear. With her light blue eyes and cheerleader figure, she could have been a television actress.
"Dr. Milton isn't here yet, he's running behind this morning, I'll call you back as soon as he's ready." The receptionist let herself into her cubical just as the phone began to ring. Meg took a seat and picked up the Better Homes and Gardens magazine she'd already read twice. The photos still looked fake. After a few pages she laid it back down on the chair beside her and pulled out her address book, determined to finish the baby show guest list once and for all. Fraser most definitely took the first invitation this time. Meg had drifted off to sleep thinking of their coffee and conversation the night before. He'd persisted in his gentle way until she told him about her argument with Patricia. Nothing had been solved but Meg left the consulate feeling better, more at peace.
"Ms. Thatcher, Dr. Milton is ready for you." Katie called from her window, pulling Meg back to the task at hand.
Fraser's Office ….
"Constable Fraser, good morning." Turnbull paused on his way to the kitchen. The blond Mountie had his usual, chipper smile pasted on his fair face.
"Hello, Constable Turnbull." Fraser greeted him as he adjusted his lanyard for the day.
"Inspector Thatcher hasn't arrived yet this morning, her office is still dark." Turnbull stood at parade rest just inside the small office. Diefenbaker strolled over to greet him, hoping for a treat or an interesting new scent.
"Inspector Thatcher had an appointment this morning, she'll be in directly." Fraser answered in a tone he hoped had enough authority in it to keep the junior Mountie from asking questions.
"Hmm, she's been having appointments more frequently the last few months, I hope she's in good health." Turnbull frowned, pondering his superior's behavior.
"Inspector Thatcher is quite alright, Turnbull, no need for concern." Fraser reassured him, searching for something to change the subject to.
"I should be on sentry duty in a moment, I should be going." Turnbull distracted himself, thankfully for Fraser.
"I have an appointment with Assistant District Attorney Kowalski this morning, I should be back before lunch." Fraser said as he put his Stetson on his head. Dief had beat him to the door and stood waiting. The ADA's secretary kept dog treats in her desk for the old wolf.
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Meg and Fraser crossed paths after their respective appointments were through. The red clad Mountie caught sight of the Inspector across the street, her long, chocolate brown coat flapping in the breeze from passing traffic.
"Good morning, Inspector." Fraser crossed the street to catch up, Dief in tow.
"Hello, Constable Fraser." Meg said before biting into a mustard covered pretzel. It wasn't the most nutritious breakfast in the world but it would have to do.
"How was your appointment?" Ben asked in a low tone. People milled up and down the street, going about their business as the Canadians ambled toward the consulate.
"It went fine, thank you. I'll be on call for the next week or so." Meg didn't know why they were whispering, there wasn't anyone around to overhear.
"Let me know if I can be of any assistance." Fraser offered. A boy came barreling around the corner, running as hard and fast as his feet would carry him, a huge German Shepherd on his trail. The boy weaved around people, his legs pumping furiously and a backpack slapping against his back. Fraser took Meg's elbow and swept her against a trash can, out of the boy and the dog's path. In the process he crushed her pretzel to her business blazer, mustard first.
"Very sorry, Inspector." He frowned before taking off after the boy who couldn't be more than twelve. Meg stood on the sidewalk stunned, watching the boy, the dog and the Mountie running down the sidewalk away from her.
"Damn it, Fraser." Meg cursed, mustard clashing with her ivory blouse and egg plant blazer. She threw the rest of her pretzel in the trash and pulled a wad of paper napkins out of her coat pocket to wipe the mess away.
Fraser chased the dog and the boy into an alley between a stationary shop and a audiology specialist's office. He saw a dangling fire escape ladder and jumped for it.
"Up here." Fraser shouted at the boy as he pulled the heavy metal ladder down to the ground. The boy took off up one side of the ladder while Fraser waited, making sure the dog couldn't follow. The pissed off German Shepherd jumped, snarling and biting as it tried to reach the humans. It's deep growl and barks sent chills up even Fraser's spine. The Mountie had heard such noises out of packs of wolves hunting caribou. Chilling viscousness rose up after the pair as they climbed.
"You're alright now, son, can you climb?" Fraser asked the boy when he stopped at the first opportunity. Wide eyed, the middle school boy shook his head, sweat rolling down his face, soaking his t-shirt.
"Take a rest, here, let me take your pack for a while." Fraser offered his hand to take the full backpack from the boy. Strands of wheat blond hair were plastered to his head and his knees were weak. Hesitantly, the boy shrugged out of his backpack and handed it to Fraser.
"What's your name?" Fraser asked conversationally.
"Bobby." He managed to squeak out through gulped breaths.
"Hello, Bobby, I'm Constable Fraser." The Mountie nodded as he stood below the boy who stared down at the snapping dog.
"What kind of cop are you?" Bobby shifted his attention away from the German Shepherd.
"A Mountie, with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police." Fraser answered, opening up a can of worms on purpose. He wanted to get the boy's attention away from the dog so he would calm down enough to continue climbing.
"If you're a cop in Canada then what are you doing in Chicago?" It was a gallon size can of worms.
"Ah, I first came to Chicago on the trail of the man responsible for murder of my father …." The boy's eyes glazed over when Benton began talking about Ray Vecchio and his precious emerald green Buick Riviera.
"Fraser, it's safe to come down now." Meg's voice cut him off when he began telling about Ray's identification of noses.
"What about the dog?" Bobby yelled down, his light eyes scanning the alley.
"Animal control tranquilized the dog." Meg yelled back. From the look in her dark eyes, Fraser wasn't in any hurry to come down the fire escape ladder. He'd almost rather face the German Shepherd.
"Thanks for helping me out, Mister." Bobby thanked Fraser before worming his way down the ladder.
"You're welcome, Bobby." Fraser handed him the backpack then made his own way to the ground.
"Inspector Thatcher, this is Bobby." Fraser introduced the boy, half hoping she would be civil in front of him.
"Where were you heading, Bobby?" Meg asked the boy casually, casting an annoyed glance at Fraser.
"I was headed home, I went to the store for Mom." Bobby opened his backpack to show a bag of rice, two cans of condensed cream of mushroom soup and a bag of flour.
"Can we walk you home?" The lady Mountie offered, her tone softer.
"Yeah, sure, maybe Mom won't go gonzo 'cause I took too long." Bobby shrugged, shouldering his bag again.
"Why was the dog chasing you?" Meg asked, following Bobby's lead, Fraser bringing up the rear.
The Consulate …..
Meg walked into the consulate, taking off her blazer and heading into her office where she kept a spare set of clothes.
"Fraser, give me ten minutes then I want to see you in my office, understand?" She said crisply.
"Yes, Sir." Fraser took off his Stetson and hung it on the coat rack by the door.
"Did Inspector Thatcher have mustard on her silk blouse?" Turnbull asked once the office door clicked shut.
"Yes, I'm afraid I'm at fault, I pushed her out of the way of a boy being chased by a dog while she was eating a pretzel with mustard." Fraser shook his head, trying to remember what would bring the condiment out of high end silk.
"Oh dear." Turnbull clucked his tongue, knowing the scolding Fraser had in store for him.
"I agree." Fraser checked his watch before tapping on Thatcher's door.
"Come in, Constable Fraser." Meg called. She wore a black, ribbed, cotton t-shirt with her egg plant skirt and pearls. The pearls dripped over her collar bones and down toward the modest scoop neck. Fraser took a deep breath to steady himself, the new blouse hugged her curves in a most complimentary way.
"Please explain to me why my silk blouse and blazer now have mustard stains on them?" She fixed him with her rhetorical question stare.
"May I just say that I apologize, I was simply trying to prevent …." Fraser stopped when he saw her hand go up, her dark eyes flashing beneath long, lacy lashes.
"Take them to the cleaners, you pay the bill." She handed him a white plastic bag with her blouse and blazer in it.
"Yes, Sir." Fraser took the bag, thinking to himself how light he'd gotten off, considering.
"Oh, and Constable Fraser, nice job with the boy, you were able to calm him down much easier than I could have." Meg caught him two steps away from her desk. Benton nodded, taking the compliment gracefully.
"And a warning would have been nice." She raised an eyebrow but there wasn't a trace of annoyance or reprimand in her lovely eyes.
"Yes, Sir." Fraser nodded, a conspiratorial smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.
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Ray paced the length of his car like a tiger in a cage. The blond detective had been fuming for the last twenty minutes outside the justice building. He and his ex-wife had had a verbal sparing session in her office over his paperwork for an important robbery case. There were several volleys thrown from both sides before Fraser was able to calm both ADA Stella Kowalski and Ray, aka Vecchio, down enough to talk like civilized adults.
"Women are the most fickle things I've, they just get under your skin and start suckin like leeches or vampires er somethin'." Ray pounded his fist against the black, GTO but didn't do any damage.
"Ray, not all women are alike. There must have been a time when you and Stella were quite happy, you were married for several years." Benton pointed out logically.
"Yeah, I guess, on the dance floor things were always greatness." Ray leaned on the side of he car, his arms over his chest as he remembered all the hours they'd spent in each other's embrace, moving in unison to the music.
"Are you hungry, Ray?" Fraser asked, shaking the detective out of his reverie.
"Yeah, sure, let's go." Ray stood up off the car and opened the driver's side door. Fraser was glad to see he was feeling much better.
"Oh, Ray, I have to drop by the dry cleaners after we eat, I need to pick up Inspector Thatcher's blouse and jacket." That didn't sound as innocent as Ray knew it to be.
"Sure, buddy, no problem." The detective grinned mischievously as he pulled the American muscle car into the stream of mid-day traffic.
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"I'm very sorry, Constable Fraser, the mustard stain wouldn't come out of the silk blouse, it came out of the jacket just fine." Mr. Perry, the elderly owner of Perry Family Dry Cleaners apologized, his eye rheumy through his round reading glasses.
"Oh dear, that is a problem." Fraser frowned. The shop smelled clean and crisp. Large windows fronting the street let in afternoon sunlight.
"I won't charge for the blouse, it's very rare that we can't get stains out." Mr. Perry shook his balding head, his hands rummaging around in his sweater pockets. Fraser insisted on paying for both items. The payment for the blouse ended up in a charity jar for Juvenile Diabetes.
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Snowflakes swirled around the sidewalks, sticking to Meg's hair as she walked back to the consulate after lunch. Most Chicagoans were hunkered down into their coats, braced against the wind and snow. The Canadian took it in stride. She felt hopeful about her life. She and Fraser had gotten past one or two of the walls that had caused them so much tension and Dr. Milton had been optimistic about the next round of IVF. Life was good.
"Inspector Thatcher," Fraser's voice cut through Meg's thoughts as she neared the consulate steps.
"Constable Fraser, good afternoon." She greeted him pleasantly. He waved to Ray through the window before the GTO pulled away. The Mountie held the dry cleaning.
"I'm afraid I have bad news about the silk blouse." Fraser handed her the plastic clad bags.
"Oh, was it destroyed?" Meg frowned. She loved that silk blouse, it went well with so many of her pant and skirt suits.
"Mr. Perry wasn't able to remove the mustard stain." Fraser waited for Meg to give him a mouthful. Instead she frowned, her dark eyes showing her annoyance.
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"Dr. Milton's office, I have to go." Meg's expression changed instantly.
"Would you like me to accompany you, Inspector?" Fraser asked impulsively. He'd had to pick her up last time.
Meg stopped in her tracks, turning to look at her subordinate officer.
"Thank you, Constable Fraser, I'll tell Turnbull we'll be out the majority of the afternoon." Meg went up the steps to find the junior Mountie. Ten minutes, and minus the dry cleaning later, Meg and Fraser were off to Dr. Milton's office.
Afterward ….
Just like the last time, Meg was in no condition to take herself home. She was glad Fraser had gone with her to the Windy City Women's Clinic. Having him on hand as soon as the procedure was finished sent her home to bed a lot sooner this time. The cab ride to her apartment felt like forever though.
Ben helped Meg up to her apartment, unlocking the door for her as she leaned against the wall. She hadn't said anything on the way back. Ben was glad he'd escorted her home. Meg seemed very small and vulnerable.
"Would you like to settle down on the couch or in your bedroom, Margaret?" Ben asked quietly, turning on a table lamp.
"My bed, thank you." She slipped out of her fashionable boots and wool coat, tossing them on the couch as she wobbled her way to the bedroom. The lady Mountie stopped as the world spun, leaning against the wall.
"Margaret, allow me." Fraser took her hand, keeping her from sliding down the wall to the floor. He gently scooped her up like a child and carried her into the bedroom.
"I could have walked, Fraser."
"Yes, I know." He simply agreed, laying her down on top of the antique white, flannel comforter with vivid, red cabbage roses scattered across it. He turned on the bedside lamp, illuminating the dark room. It was as feminine as her office wasn't. The room leaned toward Victorian style lace and roses.
Slowly, Meg found her way beneath the flannel comforter, laying in the middle of her queen bed. She hadn't even pulled off her business jacket or jewelry. Ben stood up to leave.
"Benton, sit for a minute, okay?" Meg rolled over onto her side. The Mountie sat down on the side of the bed, perched on the edge.
"You've been wonderful about all this, I really appreciate everything you've done, like just being there for me. I know I probably wouldn't be saying this if I weren't three sheets to the wind on pain medication, but I wish I could have found a good man just like you to settle down with and have this child." She slapped him playfully on the arm with a sleepy smile.
"You're most welcome, Margaret. I'm certain you'll find the right spouse soon enough." Fraser's low voice sounded sad, even to his ears. Thinking of someone else taking care of her felt like a knife to the gut.
"You'll always be my friend, Benton." Meg sat up, taking Ben's hand in both of hers.
"Yes, Margaret, I'll always be your friend." It felt like someone had turned the knife in his gut. Standing up again, Ben pulled the comforter up around Meg's shoulders and turned off the bedside lamp. He closed the bedroom door softly and found his way to the arm chair in the corner of the living room. He didn't want to go back to the consulate, didn't want to go to the Twenty-seventh Precinct and it was too cold to wander the streets as he usually did when he had something on his mind. Instead he sat in the dim living room, alone with his thoughts.
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