Chapter 5

Inside the exam room, Johnny's back continued to spasm. He couldn't prevent the loud hissing noise that escaped his lips as the muscles became rigid once more. He squeezed his eyes shut, unable to breathe through the pain. He heard the door open, but his neck and back were still immobilized. "Whoever you are, please get me out o' this medieval torture device!"

Dr. Brackett walked over to the exam table, observing Johnny's bruised torso. He appeared thinner than he had when he had his last physical, even though it had only been two months. He noted the blood seeping through the bandage on his forehead. He reached for the tape, needing to clean the wound thoroughly before he stitched it up.

"Johnny, I know it hurts, but just a few more minutes, alright?"

Johnny lay still, holding his breath until the spasm had passed. When he finally released his breath, he groaned. "Ugh."

"How much do you weigh now?" Kel asked, shifting the overhead light to get a closer look at the laceration.

"Enough," was the only reply he got.

Dr. Brackett pulled the tray over beside him, grateful that Dixie had set it up with a suture kit before Malcolm had arrived. He began the process of disinfecting the wound, and numbing the skin around the injured area. "Looks like it won't take but a few stitches. If it was anywhere else, I'd probably just use a butterfly bandage, but when cuts like this are on the face, I prefer to use stitches. It minimizes the scarring."

"I know."

While they were waiting for the Lidocaine to take effect, a nurse walked into the room, giving Dr. Brackett the x-rays. "Malcolm said to get these to you STAT."

"Thanks, Sally," the physician said with a smile. He quickly popped them onto the light box, happy with what he saw. He turned off the light, returning to his unhappy patient. "Well, I can give you that MS now. You don't have any broken bones or head injuries." He walked over to the medicine cabinet, removing the vial of clear liquid and withdrawing a dose into a syringe. He quickly cleaned the IV port, and slowly injected his patient with the pain-killing analgesic. "This should make you much more comfortable."

Johnny immediately felt the room spin slightly, even though he was still strapped down on the backboard. He blinked his eyes hard, hating the way morphine always made his vision a little fuzzy as it took effect. "Ah, y-yea… Better," he stated, as both the medication took effect and the straps were removed from his head and body, freeing him to move around a little.

"Slow down there," Kel ordered. "I've still got to stitch you up."

"Um, 'k," the loopy paramedic mumbled as the warmth spread over his entire body.

Kel watched as his patient continued to relax under the effect of the narcotic while he began to carefully stitch up the laceration. When he was tying off the last knot, he once again asked the question to which he had received a smart-aleck answer earlier. Only this time, he asked it in a slightly devious manner. "How much weight have you lost?"

"Dunno… Maybe five poun's or somethin' like that," the drowsy man responded.

"Have you been sick lately?"

"No… Jus' haven't been feelin' like eatin' as much. Nothin's wrong, Doc, so stop worryin' 'bout me."

Dr. Brackett had gotten the answer he needed, although it wasn't the one he wanted to hear. Johnny had only been a couple of pounds above the lower weight limit at his last physical. He had needed to GAIN five pounds, not lose them. Kel looked at the skinny man lying on the exam table, his skin nearly as pale as the sheet on which he lay. He considered his options carefully before he spoke. "Alright, I'm taking you off shift for the next week. Come back and see me on Friday, and if your back is healed enough that you can work, then I'll sign your release papers." He didn't mention that he planned on weighing Johnny as a part of the exam.

"Mmm 'k," Johnny mumbled, smacking his dry lips.

"Do you want Dixie to call Joanne to take you home, since Roy is still on shift? I'm assuming you'll go there like you normally do, right?"

Johnny thought for a moment, struggling against the morphine. "Uh… Nah, I'll… Um, I'll call a… call a fr-friend."

"Okay," the physician said, patting the naked shoulder of the paramedic, assuming that Johnny's latest young flame would become his nursemaid for the next few days. "You just take it easy for a few minutes and let that MS do its job. I'll write a prescription for some oral muscle relaxers for you to take at home. I'll ask Dixie to fill it at the hospital pharmacy, and then have her come in and get the number of that friend you want her to call to come pick you up."

"Mmm, 'k, Doc," Johnny slurred, his heavy eyelids finally drifting closed. It seemed like only seconds later, Dixie was shaking him awake.

"Hey, Tiger… Johnny, I need for you to wake up for a minute, alright?"

"Hmm? Lemme s'eep, Dix," he groaned.

"I need to know who you want me to call to come and get you. I've got your pills ready along with your discharge papers. I've let you sleep as long as I could, but we've got to use this room for sick people," she said, grinning as she brushed his bangs away from his forehead. Her touch was rewarded with sleepy brown eyes squinting up at her. "Atta boy. Now, who do you want me to call to come and get you?"

"I-Iris… Iris C-Campbell… She's at… Um, Bloom-Bloomers," he slurred, closing his eyes once again.

Dixie straightened up, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion. She had met Iris on a couple of occasions when the florist had dropped off flowers at the hospital. Now, her curiosity was piqued. 'How did Johnny know Iris Campbell, and how were they close enough friends for him to prefer that she pick him up, instead of Joanne?'

E!

Iris closed and locked the back door of Bloomers just as the business line began to ring. Normally, she only opened the shop on Saturdays when she had a wedding or funeral to prepare for, but today she needed to get her fall decorations put up. It was already mid-September, so she decided to decorate while the business was closed.

"Whoever you are, you'll just have to call back on Monday," she commented to herself as she turned to walk towards her car parked behind the store. She sat down behind the wheel, cranking up the aging vehicle, and pulling out into the noonday traffic. A quick stop by the grocery store, and then she would be on her way home.

E!

Back at Rampart, Dixie's brow creased as she lowered the telephone back into its cradle. She flipped away from the yellow pages where she had been scanning the florists section for the telephone number to Bloomers and switched to the white pages. She blew the bangs out of her eyes while perusing the listings of Campbells.

"There's too many of them here, Johnny," she complained out loud, frustrated by the number of Campbells who were listed only by their first initial. She needed more to go on.

"Looking for a date?"

The emergency room nurse looked up into the round face of Joe Early. "Humph, I wish. I think I'd have an easier time finding a date than finding the phone number I'm looking for."

"Can I help?" He asked, stepping behind the nurse's station to pour himself a quick cup of coffee.

"Not unless you know Iris Campbell's phone number," she murmured, continuing to scan the tiny numbers on the page. Suddenly, she looked up, craning her neck at her colleague. "Hey, didn't Joanne DeSoto work there for a while?"

"Work where?"

"At Bloomers, the florist shop. Johnny said that Iris Campbell was who I should call to come pick him up. Says she's a friend of his." Dixie reached for the telephone, dialing the DeSotos' number from memory.

Joe stood behind her, enjoying his coffee break and appreciating how hard his friend worked. He smiled as he brought the coffee cup to his lips, sipping the warm liquid during an unusual respite from the activity of the busy emergency department.

"Joanne? This is Dixie," she said, straightening her back as she rushed through her speech. She didn't want to cause the wife of a fireman any undue alarm. "Roy's fine. He's not even here," she spat out quickly, avoiding telling Joanne what she really wanted to tell her – that even though Roy wasn't at Rampart, Johnny was. "I'm trying to get in touch with Iris Campbell, and she isn't at the shop. I know you used to work for her, and I was wondering… Do you know her home phone number?"

On the other end of the line, Joanne assumed that Dixie was needing to contact Iris related to her floral business, so she didn't hesitate giving the nurse Iris' phone number.

Dixie quickly took down the information, and politely ended the call. "Thanks, Joanne. You've been a big help." She was about to dial the number she had written down on the pad, when the base station squawked to life.

Joe pushed himself off the counter he had been leaning against, stepping over to take the call. "Go ahead Dix. I've got this."

She gave her friend a wink, but just as she was reaching for the telephone, it rang. She picked it up, placing the receiver against her ear, with a slight eye roll. There never seemed to be a dull moment in the Emergency Department of Rampart General Hospital.

"Rampart Emergency, Ms. McCall speaking." She listened to the familiar voice on the other end of the line. "Alright, I'm ready for the relay," she began, responding to Sam Lanier.

Seeing Sally walking past the nurse's station, Dixie covered the receiver with her hand. "Sally, page Dr. Morton for a relay with LA County, please." She nodded her head towards the base station. "Joe's already taking a call, and Kel is with a patient."

"Yes, Ms. McCall," the pretty blonde nurse responded, quickly following the orders of her supervisor.

It was nearly forty minutes later before Dixie had a chance to dial the telephone number Joanne had given her. As the ringing began, she couldn't help wondering once again how Johnny was connected to Iris Campbell.

"Hello?"

"Ms. Campbell?"

Iris felt her stomach flip. She had no idea who was calling her. "Yes, who's calling, please?"

"My name is Dixie McCall. I'm a nurse at Rampart General Hospital. I was given your name by John Gage. He says you're a friend of his..." Dixie let her voice trail off, waiting for confirmation from the woman to whom she was speaking.

Nervously, Iris dropped her purse and groceries onto the counter in her kitchen. She had just been walking into her house when the telephone rang. "Yes, is… Is something wrong?" Her mind sent her heart into a tailspin. Had William Waite somehow hurt Johnny?

"Well, he was on a call earlier, and he fell. Nothing's broken, but his back is hurting, so we've given him a narcotic for pain. He can't drive himself home, so he gave us your name to call as someone who might be able to come and pick him up." Dixie tapped her pen against the counter as she waited for an answer.

"Oh my, yes, of course I can. Rampart you said?"

"That's right." Dixie confirmed, using her most professional voice. "Just follow the signs to the Emergency Room and ask for me, Dixie McCall, at the information desk."

"Okay, I'll be there as soon as I can. It'll take me about 15 minutes," Iris remarked. "Thank you for calling."

Dixie hung up the telephone, shaking her head. She looked up at Joe who had finished the call with Squad 99, treated the patient, and had returned for a warmer for his cup of coffee. She grinned, seeing him watching her with a sparkle in his eye. "I guess we'll solve the mystery soon. She's on her way," the nurse remarked, slipping her hip off of the stool. "I better go get Johnny ready."

Johnny lay sleeping peacefully on the uncomfortable exam table. His fatigued body had given in to the morphine, allowing him to slumber deeply. Dixie admired the sleeping man, noting the dark circles that were noticeable beneath his closed eyes. She stared at his long eyelashes and disheveled hair, allowing her maternal instincts to overwhelm her. Gently, she reached out to shake his shoulder, bringing him back to consciousness.

"Hey there, Johnny," she cooed softly. When he didn't stir, she used a little more pressure. "Johnny, time to wake up."

Those long eyelashes she had been admiring began to flutter, blinking rapidly to clear his vision as he fought his way back to the surface from the darkness. His dark eyes looked up into her lighter ones, and a forced lopsided grin spread over his face. "Heeyy," he slurred.

"Welcome back. Your friend is on the way to pick you up, so I need to help you get dressed."

Johnny grimaced at the thought of his favorite nurse helping him out of his hospital gown and into his work pants and ripped shirt. "Ugh, do ya gotta?"

Dixie looked down at her young friend. "Yes, I 'do gotta,' John Gage," she snickered, mimicking his choice of words. "I can't let you leave here half-naked, can I?"

"Weeelll…"

"Oh no, you don't. What you and your friend do when she gets you home is one thing, but you will leave here with clothes on, young man," she chastised, wondering if her comment might get a response from Johnny that might explain his relationship with Iris.

Johnny raised one eyebrow, confused by her comment. "What are you talkin' 'bout, Dix?"

"I'm talking about your friend, Iris. She's on her way to pick you up, and I'm trying to have you dressed and ready to go when she gets here." Dixie raised the head of the bed, then reached for his upper arm. "Alright, swing your legs off the bed and let's leave you there while I get your clothes. I know how morphine makes you a little unstable, so we need to make sure you have your land legs back before you step down."

Johnny gulped, his mouth feeling dry again. "D-did you say… Iris?"

Dixie set his clothes down beside him then reached around his neck to untie his gown. "Yes, Iris Campbell. I called her, like you asked me to do, and she's coming to pick you up." She quickly removed his gown, amused by how quickly he covered himself with the sheet. "Sorry, Tiger. I forgot Kel had us strip you down, completely. Let me help you get into your boxers first." She had to bite her tongue to keep from chastising him about his obvious weight loss, but she knew that Dr. Brackett had already addressed it with him.

Johnny stared at Dixie's white nursing cap, not really seeing anything. Had he really asked her to call Iris? How was he going to explain his relationship with Iris to Dixie, and anyone else who may find out?

"Alright, think you can stand up enough for me to pull your boxers up?"

"Um, oh yea, yea," he retorted, slipping his hips off the exam table, leaning against Dixie more than he wanted to. The move caused his back to ache, and he unwittingly tightened his grip on her arm. "Umph, ssssss," he hissed, sucking in his breath. He felt his face redden as the nurse's hands skillfully pulled the elastic waistband of his boxers up over his hips, snapping the boxers in place along his thin waist.

"Okay, let's get these pants on while you're standing, then we'll get you a shirt. Raise your right foot," she ordered, kneeling down in front of him.

Any other time, Johnny would have found the humor in her position, but not today. He was stiff and sore, even with the morphine circulating in his system. He knew that the next couple of days were going to be miserable. The act of looking down stretched his upper back and neck muscles, the same muscles that were already screaming at him. It was just as well, he really didn't want to watch Dixie dressing him as if he were a little boy.

"There you go," Dixie said, straightening up. "Okay, let's get you in this wheelchair," she said, pushing the required mode of transportation towards him. "You can wait with me by the nurse's station while housekeeping gets this room ready for its next occupant," she said in her smoky voice. "Oh, and here's your prescription," she added, pulling the pill bottle out of her pocket as soon as she had helped Johnny into the wheelchair.

"Thanks, Dix."

E!

Iris pulled her car into the emergency entrance, parking as closely as she could to the door. "Oh, Thorn," she whispered to herself, biting her lower lip in worry. "What have you gotten yourself into now?"

She pushed a few graying strands of hair out of her face as she exited the vehicle, hurrying towards the automatic doors. Once inside, she glanced around the waiting area in search of the information desk. She saw a pretty young woman sitting behind the desk, and hurried over to her.

"Um, excuse me. I just received a call from Ms. Dixie McCall. She said to ask for her when I arrived. I'm picking up my, um, a friend of mine."

The ebony-skinned woman gave her a warm friendly smile. "Yes, Ma'am. If you'll walk down that hallway," she said, pointing down the corridor behind Iris, "the nurse's station will be on your left, just before you reach the elevators. Ms. McCall should be there."

"Thank you," Iris answered, turning around and hurrying down the corridor. As she neared the elevators, she caught sight of a young man with dark hair, slumping in a wheelchair near the nurse's station. Her heart skipped a beat as she recognized his mussed up hair. "Tho… There you are," she called out, covering for the name she had almost allowed to escape from her lips.

Johnny's eyelids were heavy. "Heeyyy, ah, Iris," he said sleepily, recognizing Iris' voice before she came into focus. "Thanks for… Comin' 'o get me," he slurred.

"You must be Iris," Dixie stated, rounding the corner of the nurse's station. "I'm Dixie McCall. I'm the nurse who called you."

"Yes, and I want to thank you for doing that." Iris took another look at the limp young man resting in the wheelchair. "I definitely see why he couldn't drive himself home."

"No, not this time. He's had some strong pain medication, and they always seem to do a number on him," Dixie said with a knowing wink. "I'll get someone to help you with him."

Ten minutes later, Iris and Johnny were leaving the parking lot with Johnny leaning against the car door, but sliding to the left when Iris made the turn onto West Carson. When his shoulder bumped up against Iris', he apologized. "Umph, sorry," he commented, trying to straighten back up. "Thanks for pickin' me up an' takin' me home."

Iris cut her green eyes at her loopy passenger. "You're welcome, Thorn, but I'm not taking you back to your place. I'm taking you back to mine."

"Huh?"

"You need to sleep off whatever it was they gave you, and I don't think you need to be left alone for a while. I have a couple of spare rooms, remember?"

Johnny couldn't stop the smile that tugged along the left side of his mouth. "Yea… I 'member."

It took some work, but Iris managed to get Johnny inside her house. She felt like she was supporting more of his weight than he was, but fortunately, he was just as thin as she remembered him being. A scowl crossed her face as she realized that he should probably weigh more now than he did when he was a teenager.

"C'mon, Thorn, just a little farther." She got him over the threshold, allowing him to plop down in the middle of the sofa. "Okay, just lay down here for a little while. I'll put fresh sheets on the bed for you. Maybe after you eat something, you'll feel like…," she stopped mid-sentence, hearing the soft snores coming from her unexpected guest. "Never mind, sweetheart. Just rest right here."

She set about putting freshly laundered sheets on the double bed in the blue guest room. She fluffed up the pillows, and quickly dusted off the furniture that hadn't been used in years. She cleaned the picture frames, removing the dust from the faces of those she loved, who were peering back at her through the glass. They were younger then, much younger, and life had not yet introduced them to the ugly side of humanity. But those dark days came a short time later. She shook her head, dislodging the painful memories that threatened to take her under with them. She had relived those days too many times, not with regret for what she had taken part in, but with remorse for the consequences that had resulted from that trip. "Oh, baby. Momma misses you so much," she said, running her fingers over the edge of the frame. "And you, too, Thorn." The man asleep on her couch was so different from the bright-eyed young man who grinned crookedly through the glass from the past. She turned on the lamp beside the bed, then walked back into the living room.

Johnny remained sleeping soundly on her sofa, as she went through the living room and into the kitchen. She had a few containers of homemade vegetable soup in the freezer. She knew that he needed something on his stomach before he took the next dose of pain medication, so she set about heating up the food. She wanted to have it ready for him when he woke up. She smiled to herself wistfully as she ran hot water into the sink to thaw out the soup. It had been so long since she had cooked a meal for more than just herself. Even though her heart was broken for her wayward daughter and for Johnny, who was injured, she had to admit that she would enjoy taking care of him for as long as he needed it.

"Just like old times, Thorn."

E!

Back at 51's, Roy and Dwyer were on a run, while the engine crew finally had enough of a break to complete their chores. Chet had offered to finish making up the beds in the dorm to help Roy out. By the time the senior medic had returned to the station after leaving his sleeping partner at Rampart, Dwyer had already arrived. Since then, the squad had been on non-stop runs. Chet was more than happy to spend a little time alone, and he needed the privacy of the dorm to make the call to Mr. and Mrs. Marks.

He did a quick survey of the apparatus bay, noting that Marco and Mike were in the day room and Hank was in his office. He let the dorm door drift closed, then took a seat at the desk. He pulled the phone closer to him and dialed the number, hoping for an answer on the other end of the line.

"Hello, Marks residence."

"Ahem," he cleared his throat, hoping his voice wouldn't sound like a prepubescent boy. "Uh, Mim?"

"Yes. Chet? Is that you?"

"Yes, Ma'am, um…"

"Chet, what's wrong?" Mim asked nervously, anxious for news about the well-being of Caroline and Corrie.

"Oh, uh, nothing… I mean, well, it isn't nothing, it's something, but it isn't Caroline and Corrie. I mean, they're just fine and all…"

"Chet."

"I'm rambling. I'm sorry," he huffed, scrubbing his face with his open palm. "It's just that… Well, see…"

Mim felt her knees growing weak as she waited for Chet to get to the point. She wondered if maybe he needed another man to talk to. "Would you feel better talking to Greg?" She asked, worried that Caroline had turned down Chet's proposal.

"Oh, uh, nuh-uh, not really."

Mim pressed the receiver tightly to her ear, cutting her eyes over at her husband. Greg had been listening to her end of the conversation and knew that the caller was the man he hoped would be his future son-in-law, of sorts. He stood up, folding the paper he had been reading and laying it aside, he then headed over to sit beside his wife. He reached out, holding her trembling hand in his own. He was grateful when Mim pulled the receiver away from her ear, enough so that he could hear Chet's incoherent ramblings.

"Chet, whatever it is, just say it," Mim encouraged.

"Um, h-has Caroline talked to you, yet? About us being engaged?" There, he had broken the ice by asking a question, even though he already knew the answer.

"She accepted your proposal?" Greg asked.

Chet was a bit startled by the deep voice, unaware that the older man had been listening. The lineman shifted his position in the chair, running his finger beneath his nose; a habit he had picked up from Johnny.

"Yes, sir, she did, but…"

"But what?" Greg inquired when he realized that Chet was stalling. "Chet, are you having second thoughts about marrying her?"

"NO! I mean, no, sir, not at all. I love Caroline and Corrie with all my heart. I swear it! I want us to be a fa-family more than anything else in the world, but…"

Greg rolled his eyes, his frustration growing exponentially as Chet continued to delay telling them the reason for the call. "Why did you call us to tell us about the engagement? Why didn't SHE call us?" Greg was beginning to question his approval of the marriage. He raised one eyebrow at his wife who was nudging him with her elbow.

"That's just it… We've been engaged for a couple of weeks now, but… I mean, my folks are all excited… But she hasn't even told you about it, has she?" Chet hung his head, shame forming a shadow that crossed his face.

"No… No, she hasn't," Greg stated, accepting the telephone receiver from his wife. He saw her wiping her face, and knew that she was crying. If Caroline truly loved Chet, then there was only one reason why hadn't she been excited enough to tell them about their upcoming nuptials – she was afraid they wouldn't approve of it.

"I think… I think she's ashamed of me," Chet stated, his heart growing heavier as the difficult conversation continued. "I don't make much money, and… Well, I couldn't buy her a big diamond like she deserves, and-"

"Hold it right there, son," Greg said, feeling his temper beginning to flare, although he wasn't sure who he was the most upset with.

Mim smiled inwardly at the term of endearment her husband chose to use at that moment. He really had grown to accept Chet as a part of their unusual family.

"What Caroline…," he began, wrapping his free arm around his wife, pulling her into his side. "What our daughter deserves is to be happy. She comes from very humble beginnings, Chet. She isn't the kind of girl who wants flashy things." He stroked Mim's sleeveless arm as she leaned her head against him. "She had nothing when we took her in as our foster daughter. We gave her the things she needed, but you know that we aren't wealthy people. I mean, we're doing okay, but we're not rich."

Chet was silent, feeling a lump forming in his throat.

"All Caroline's life, she's just wanted to be happy – that's all. Mim and I knew from the beginning that she was a compliant child. When other teenaged girls were out with their boyfriends, wearing lots of make-up, drinking, and smoking grass… Caroline never did those things. She always stayed at home, helping Mim take care of the house, and…." Greg couldn't get the words out of his throat, his own lump was blocking his voice. He swallowed hard, forcing back the tears that he rarely felt threatening to dampen his cheeks. The last time he had cried was when Corrie had been born.

Chet sniffled, his own eyes growing misty and his throat beginning to tickle. This was uncomfortable, but he needed to hear the words and, obviously, Greg needed to say them.

"And being a friend to Corey when… When he needed one. I'm sure she's told you that story." Greg hoped he wasn't going to have to explain the details of his granddaughter's conception.

Chet nodded to himself, then cleared his throat as he realized that his head motion wouldn't be conveyed over the phone. "Ahem, ye-yes… She did. I'm n-not judgin' her, though… Not, uh, not judgin' your son, either." His voice trailed into a whisper as he fought to contain his emotions.

"Good… That's good. I ap- uh, we appreciate that," he said, pulling Mim tighter to him, hearing her sniffling, too. "Anyway, Caroline isn't the kind of girl who wants fancy jewels, or expensive things - she's a simple girl. A simple woman, I should say. I guess I can't call her a girl anymore, 'cause she's all grown up. But she loves very strongly, Chet." He inhaled deeply, trying not to blow his breath into the phone. "She feels things down to her very core. She's a good mother to our little angel. And," he sniffled, remembering how he felt when he had first seen Chet holding Corrie in his lap. "And she trusts y-you," Greg's breath hitched, but he fought hard to push past it and regain his voice. "She loves you, and she trusts you with Corrie. They n-need you, Ch-et," he gasped, feeling Mim pulling the phone away from him just as an odd sound echoed through the phone.

"Um, I've gotta go," Chet said in a husky whisper, drying his own eyes when the klaxons sounded, "Um, thanks… For everything."

He hung up the phone, wishing he had had the courage to tell Greg how he really felt about him and Mim. Truthfully, he loved them. He stood up, scraping the chair against the desk in his rush out the dorm door to take his seat behind Hank, thankful he didn't have to face the other men as he climbed on board Big Red. He didn't want them to know that he had been crying.

E!

By mid-afternoon, Mim and Greg had discussed their options and had decided to arrange to take Caroline, Corrie, and Chet out for Sunday lunch. It would be a long drive down to Los Angeles, but one they hoped would be worth it. Mim picked up the telephone, using her index finger to dial the rotary phone. As she heard Caroline's phone ringing, she reached beside her, grasping Greg's hand. Both of them silently prayed that their scheme would work.

"Hello?"

"Hi, sweetheart. How are my girls?" Mim asked, trying to keep her voice calm.

"Oh, we're doing fine. I just put Corrie down for a nap. I'm just sitting here relaxing. How are you and Dad?"

Mim squeezed Greg's hand. "We're good, just missing you and Corrie."

Caroline felt her eyes beginning to burn. She missed them, too. She also knew that she needed to tell them about the engagement, but she wasn't sure how the news would be received. Why did she feel like she was betraying them by marrying Chet? "We, ah, we miss you, too. Corrie was just asking me about her Pop and Grammy this morning," she chuckled softly, trying to find a way to broach the subject.

"Um, Greg and I were wondering if we could come visit you, maybe take Corrie to Disneyland?" Her heart pounded in her throat, as she waited for the response.

"Um, when?" Caroline asked nervously.

Mim exchanged a glance with her husband. "Well, we were thinking that maybe we could take the three of you out for Sunday lunch tomorrow, and then we'd take Corrie to Disneyland on Monday. I'm sure you and Chet would enjoy a little time to yourselves, right?"

"Um…"

Mim's worried eyes found those of her husband, and she sucked in a breath. "Caroline? Is everything okay with you and Chet?"

"Well, I…" This was it. Caroline had to tell them. She closed her eyes, fighting against her fear of being rejected by her foster parents, the ones she loved more than her birth parents. "I have some news."

Mim allowed a slight smile to part her lips. "Is it what I think it is?"

"I don't know. What do you think it is?"

"Welllll, Greg and I are hoping that one day you and I will need to go shopping for a very special kind of dress… And flowers, and…"

Caroline couldn't believe what she was hearing. Was it possible that the Marks wouldn't be upset if she married Chet? Could it be that they might actually accept him? "Um, maybe…." She hesitated, still unsure of herself.

"Oh Caroline, just tell us! Are you and Chet getting married?" Mim tried to sound happy, hoping that her approving voice would be conveyed through the long-distance phone lines.

"Um, yes," came the meek response.

"Oohhh! Oh, Greg, Chet proposed and Caroline accepted! Oh, isn't it wonderful?" She called out, even though her husband had been right beside her through the entire conversation. She didn't want Caroline to know that this telephone call had actually been a set up. Returning her attention to Caroline, she spoke into the phone again. "Congratulations, sweetheart, we are so happy for you."

"Really? You… You aren't upset about it?" Caroline curled her hair behind her ear, feeling her cheeks burn with her tears. "You're really happy for me?"

"Of course we are. Chet is a wonderful young man, and Greg and I have been hoping he would ask you to marry him." She heard the slight hesitation in Caroline's voice and asked her next question with a bit of trepidation. "Do you love him enough to spend the rest of your life with him?"

"Yes, yes I do. I… I can't imagine my life without him," she said, admiring her sparkling engagement ring through her tears. "I'm just so relieved that you're both okay with this."

Greg overheard her comment, since he had been sitting so close to Mim, and he spoke into the phone. "We more than approve, sweetheart, we give you our blessings…. And our checkbook." He grinned at Mim, knowing she was thinking the same thing.

"What?"

"That's right. Mim and I are paying for everything, so you don't worry about a thing. We're going to make you a princess for the day. You deserve it, and nothing would make us happier than to be there for you."

Caroline's bottom lip began to quiver uncontrollably. "You'd… You'd really do that for me?"

"Of course we would. We want to show our support for you, all three of you. Mim and I love you, darling. We love you, Corrie, and yea, even Chester," he snickered.

Caroline felt as if her chest would explode with emotions. "Um, can I ask you a question, then? And if you say no, then I'll completely understand, but… Um, I was wondering if … Would you…" Her words lodged in her throat, unable to find an avenue to the surface.

Greg, for the second time today, felt his own cheeks moisten. He had hoped that he might one day have the privilege of escorting her to the altar. It hadn't happened the first time, not with the unexpected pregnancy and the rushed courthouse marriage. Now, he thought perhaps Caroline wasn't the only one being given a second chance. Hearing the hesitancy in her voice, he somehow pushed past his own tears, giving her the answer to the question she hadn't been able to ask. "Sweetheart, would you…allow me… the honor of…," he gulped, running his hand across his mouth, removing the salty tears. "Ahem, walking you… down the... aisle?"

Caroline cupped her hand over her mouth, unable to stop the gut-wrenching sobs. This was it, her dream was coming true. She sucked in a couple of gulps of air, unable to regain her composure. "Y-Yes, I'd really… I'd love that… Thank you. I love you… both so much."

"I love you, too, baby girl. We both do," he said, kissing his wife's forehead. "We'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay, thank you. I'll make sure to… tell Chet when he calls… me tonight," she said, still sniffling while she tried to catch her breath.

"Good, and tell him that Mim and I are happy about this, alright?"

"I sure will. I can't wait, 'bye."

"Goodbye, Caroline."

E!