They were sitting at a small table against the wall in an Irish pub near the hospital. The live band was packing up and the place was emptying out, so they didn't have to raise their voices to make themselves heard. She was sipping a vodka martini, straight up with a twist; he was nursing a dark ale.
They had left the hospital together about a half hour earlier after Steve had spent some time with Mike and they had taken their leave, promising the comatose man that they would return in the morning. In the hallway, stripping off their hospital gowns and masks, he was instantly struck by her natural beauty and easy charm. And he was more than a little curious about her connection to Mike.
Teasingly, she had challenged him to take her for a drink and she would 'come clean', as she put it. Intrigued, and badly in need of a change of scene, knowing that Mike would be just fine if he left for a couple of hours, he suggested the nearby bar and she eagerly assented.
Now, she was bringing him up to speed with regards to her recent past, and why she had to change her name. A sweet melancholia coloured her features. "Ah, Ben Jarris. He really was the love of my life, but the man had a death wish, I really believe that now. He should never have gotten involved with the mob but the lure of all that money…? Well, let's just say, Ben could never say no to an easy buck."
"So how in hell did you end up here in San Francisco?"
"Well, like I said, I was Ben's private secretary and when the shit hit the fan, so to speak, and I had to run – first, stupidly, to Chicago and my bastard brother-in-law, may he rest in peace – I remembered hearing about a 'Frisco cop - " She stopped abruptly at Steve's wince. "Oops, sorry, I forgot – and I even got the lecture from Mike, can you believe it? San Francisco cop," she corrected with a chuckle, "who they'd tried to bribe and then threaten but he didn't cave and I thought, 'That's the guy I gotta get to.' And that was Mike, of course."
Steve nodded, frowning. "Yeah, we were still partners then. I remember he got an envelop with twenty-five grand in it and he turned it over to our captain, then a few days later he got roughed up in front of his house when he got home one night. They bruised a couple of ribs and gave him a black eye but he was okay and all it did was get him madder, but it was kinda scary there for awhile. I thought they'd try to take him out but they just left him alone after that."
"Well, you know as well as I do that a straight-arrow cop is worth his weight in gold – and I picked a winner when I managed to track him down." She smiled at the memory. "He was a little hesitant to believe me at first, but it didn't take long to convince him I was on the up-and-up. And boy, did he turn out to be my knight in shining armor – I couldn't have asked for more. He listened to me, he didn't treat me like this hysterical woman, and he was there when I needed him the most, when Ben was killed." Her smile disappeared as she thought of her late husband once more, her gaze far away, then she shook her head and smiled. "Not even when they blew up his car, he never even blamed me for that, and I think he loved that car, I really do," she laughed, and Steve found himself unable to resist joining in.
"Yeah, he told me about that. He got that car when it was brand new and it was less than a year old."
Maggie grinned, then finished off her martini. "Another?" she asked Steve. He looked at his less than half-full glass then back up at her and nodded. She turned towards the bar, caught the bartender's eye and gestured for refills.
"Anyway," she said slowly, continuing her narrative, "after all was said and done and I was turned over to the feds, heading first to Washington to be 'debriefed' and then to start a 'new life' with a 'new name' in a 'new city', well, there I was, no longer Maggie Jarris but now Katherine Dowd…and for some reason I couldn't stop thinking about Mike."
Steve's eyebrows rose slightly and she looked at him sideways, as if daring him to say something. Wisely, he kept his tongue.
"We'd made a bet, you see – after a year, if I was still around, I was gonna send him a buck. Big bet, I know," she said sarcastically, "but on short notice it was all I could think of to maintain some kind of connection with him. And, at the time, for some reason, that had become very, very important to me." Her voice had dropped so low he could barely hear her, her focus turning inward.
The waitress appeared at the table with their drinks, and Maggie shook herself back to the present.
"Anyway," she said quickly, almost embarrassed, "I decided I couldn't wait a year to get in touch with him again. I wanted to see if maybe what I thought I had felt when I was with him was in fact what I thought it was." She stopped, shook her head then laughed. "I'm sorry, that sentence didn't make any sense at all, did it?"
Steve chuckled. "Actually, it made all kinds of sense. It was a long and winding road but I managed to follow it," he grinned, and she shook her head with a warm smile, picking up her fresh martini glass and clinking it against his beer mug.
"Now I know why Mike loves you so much, Steven Keller," she said with a twinkle in her eye.
At the mention of Mike's name, they both hesitated slightly, suddenly remembering why they were there, what awaited them back at the hospital. Her face suddenly registered her fear and worry.
"I've known Mike for a long time, Maggie. He's gonna be okay," Steve said quietly, hoping his words masked his own uncertainty.
She looked intensely into his eyes then nodded slowly. She took a deep breath. "Anyway," she began again, "about a year ago, I called the department here and asked to speak to Dan. I asked him for Mike's home address and I wrote him. And, surprise surprise, he wrote me back. Then he called me and we talked. We talk a lot, two or three times a week." She stopped and looked down, running a fingertip around the top of her martini glass. "Do you remember about eight months ago when Mike had to go back east, Washington I think it was, for a two-day conference?"
Steve hesitated, looking at her with suspicious eyes under a furrowed brow. "Yes," he said, drawing the word out slowly.
She grimaced through her smile. "Well, that wasn't quite true. He actually flew to Pittsburgh. I met him there. Don't worry, we had separate rooms in different hotels. But we spent those two days together and went out to dinner and to a movie and a hockey game – that would be the Penguins – and we had a wonderful time." She stared at Steve enigmatically, as if waiting for the caustic retort she presumed would be coming.
Non-plussed, not having moved a muscle, Steve's grin was slow to build but he tamped it down before it got too big. "Really?" he said noncommittally. "Mike?"
Eyebrows raised, she nodded. "He didn't tell you, did he?" she asked innocently.
He cleared his throat. "Ah, no, he didn't."
She nodded again. "I sort of thought he wouldn't." She hesitated a moment, took a sip of her drink, patted her lips dry with the napkin, smoothed the napkin down on the table and, keeping her eyes lowered, asked quietly, "Then I guess he didn't go into much detail about that week-long fishing trip he took to Oregon three months ago either?"
Steve opened his mouth to say something, stopped, closed his mouth, frowned, then started again. "So what you're saying, I think, is Mike didn't go to Oregon but went to Pittsburgh instead?"
"Uh, no," she said slowly, "we'd gone to Pittsburgh the first time because it was close to Washington, which is where he was 'supposed' to go, and near to where I am now living, actually. No, the second time we met in St. Louis – you know, sort of half-way between us…"
He stared at her, his expression unreadable. She was trying very hard not to smile.
He dropped his eyes and chewed his lip while he thought about what she just said then cleared his throat. "So, if I am reading you correctly here," he said slowly, amusement colouring his tone, "what you're trying to tell me is that you and Mike spent a 'dirty little weekend' together in St. Louis."
Her eyes bored into his and she smiled slyly, almost seductively, but her voice was tinged with exaggerated innocence. "Oh, no, Steven, we didn't spend a 'dirty little weekend' together." She paused dramatically. "We spent a 'dirty little week' together." Her grin lit up her entire face.
For several long seconds, neither of them moved. Finally, with deliberate casualness, he took a sip of his beer, leaned back, and studied her face. He crossed his right arm over his chest, resting his left elbow on his right hand and his left hand under his chin.
"Mike?" he asked again, after an uncomfortably long pause. "Mike Stone? Tall? Wears a fedora? Knitted vests? ... Catholic?"
She laughed quietly and dropped her head, staring at the table. "And I'm Jewish," she shrugged. "And we're both adults." She stared into his eyes, hoping he would understand. Her smile disappeared. "It doesn't mean he doesn't love Helen and I don't love Ben any less." She paused again, collecting her thoughts.
She inhaled deeply and held her breath then let it out slowly and forcefully, facing him again, and he could tell that the playful banter was over. "Steve, I don't expect you to understand, but believe me when I tell you, my feelings for Mike are genuine. I'm not playing him along. We truly do have something, something real and sweet and honest. I'm not saying I love him in the way I loved Ben. That would be unfair to both of them."
She dropped her eyes and took a deep breath. "I broke a lot of 'rules' coming here. My cover is blown and I'm at risk again. But I don't care. I have a wonderful man in my life once more and I am not going to let him leave it without putting up a fight. I can't." He could see tears welling up in her eyes. "When Dan called me on Monday, I just knew I had to be here." She looked at him and smiled. "Yes, Dan knows about us. I don't think Mike knows that Dan knows, but he's been very sweet and discreet about it and he's been my rock these past few days."
"You've been here since Monday?" Steve asked, surprised.
"Tuesday morning, actually. I took a taxi in from the airport and I've been staying at Dan's. He's snuck me in a couple of times so I could see Mike; we didn't want to upset you and Jeannie so we decided I should keep a low profile."
She leaned across the table and laid a gentle hand on his forearm. "I'm not going to let him go, Steve, I can't. And I'm not going to go away. And just so you know," she continued, a bit of insouciance colouring her tone once more, "the minute he opens those beautiful blue eyes and looks at me, I'm going to ask him to marry me."
She sat back with a warm, self-satisfied smile and watched as his eyes narrowed and brow furrowed. "So," she said briskly, picking up her martini glass, "what do you have to say about that?" She stared at him over the rim as she took a sip.
Very slowly, Steve leaned forward, putting his forearms on the table, and stared into her eyes. The silence between them lengthened then, without looking, he nonchalantly reached out and picked up his beer mug. "There's only one thing to say, Maggie Jarris – Mike Stone is the luckiest man in the world."
He raised his mug and gave her a wink. With a relieved laugh and a loving smile, she clinked her glass against his.