Author's Note: It hasn't been a whole week since I last posted, but this is especially for those who have asked me to bring Johnny back into the story. He's still sick, but I woke him up for you. :)

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June 17, 1977

Kelly Brackett bent over his young patient, Jeffrey Robinson, tongue depressor at the ready. "All right, young man, why don't you show me how wide you can open that mouth."

"Please, Jeffrey, do what the nice doctor tells you," the boy's mother pleaded in the background.

Jeffrey clamped his mouth shut, clapped both hands over it, and shook his head.

Kel frowned. "Young man, do you want to go home?"

"Mmmhmm." The child nodded but still didn't open his mouth.

Kel folded his arms, wrinkled his forehead, and frowned. "Well, I can't let you go home until I look at your throat."

"Don't wanna throat stick!" The words came out muffled through the boy's hands.

"Please don't act this way, Jeffrey," the boy's mother said, her voice wavering a bit. She looked like she was about to cry.

Kel held up the tongue depressor. "All I have is this tongue depressor. It helps me hold your tongue down so I can see into your throat. It's completely painless."

Jeffrey narrowed his eyes. "You promise?"

"Scout's honor."

Jeffrey dropped his hands and opened wide. With the help of the tongue depressor and a penlight, Dr. Brackett peered inside. Then he gently felt the boy's neck and checked his back and stomach for any lingering rash. A minute later, he backed away and nodded in satisfaction. "He's no longer running a fever, the rash and redness are gone, and his glands are no longer swollen. I think we've finally knocked out the infection."

Mrs. Robinson sighed. "Oh, thank goodness." She got Jeffrey's shirt and tried putting it on him, but the boy jumped down from the table and made it a game of chase. Kel moved in front of the door, then bent down and caught him up.

The little fellow kicked his feet into Kel's gut and then, without warning, clamped his teeth into the doctor's hand.

"Not again, Jeff!" his mother wailed.

"Again?" Kel gave Jeffrey a firm squeeze on the back of the neck with his free hand. The boy opened his mouth and Kel handed him to his mother.

"Oh, the day of the quake," Mrs. Robinson said as she wrestled her son into his clothes. "He bit the nice man who was trying to help with the gash on his arm." Her face paled. "Oh, Doctor. He couldn't have given that man strep, could he?"

"Not just strep, scarlet fever." Kel reached for a roll of gauze and pressed it firmly against the bleeding wound on his hand. "He'd been on antibiotics less than twenty-four hours at that point, so yes, he could have." His mind took him back to the wound he'd found on Johnny's hand a couple days ago. "Tell me, was the man Jeffrey bit tall and skinny with dark hair?"

Mrs. Robinson nodded. "Yes, yes, that sounds right."

Kel nodded. "Well, well. That answers a lot of questions. Or at least one very big question." He ruffled Jeffrey's hair. "No more biting, young man," he said firmly. "And Mrs. Robinson, bring him to the doctor sooner next time and you can avoid a hospital stay. I'll send a nurse in with discharge paperwork. Have a nice day."

On his way out, he asked the nurse to include with the discharge paperwork some information about a parenting class at the community center. "If nothing else, they offer free babysitting, and it will give her a break." Then he went to find Nurse Hawkins. It was time to give her a lesson in the proper cleaning of wounds.

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Dixie was in the nurse's lounge enjoying a cup of coffee when Kel came in, a fresh bandage on his hand. "What happened to you?"

Kel shook his head, one side of his mouth inching upward in a wry smile. He held up his hand. "You mean this? I met Johnny's friend."

Dixie's eyes widened. "The kid who bit him?"

"One and the same. Jeffrey Robinson, recently admitted with scarlet fever." Kel poured himself a cup of coffee and had a seat across from Dixie. "Started out with strep, of course, but his mother waited until he was covered in the rash and had a hundred-and four-degree fever before bringing him in."

"Oh, terrific!" Dixie said with a roll of her eyes.

Kel's cheek twitched. "Yeah, and with Johnny's lowered immunities, it hit him hard and fast. When you're done here, I'd like you to go check his stomach and back for the rash. It can take up to a week to appear. And when he wakes up, I want a throat culture."

"Got it." Dixie took another swallow of coffee. She was still a little annoyed with Kell, but her mood was improving. She might even accept an invitation to dinner if he offered it.

"Thanks, Dix. And you can decrease his sedative. I wanted to make sure he got some good rest — he would have been out of bed trying to check on Roy otherwise."

Dixie took her last swallow of coffee, then got up to wash out her cup. "OK. I'll look in on him now." She put her cup back on the shelf, then headed to John's room. First, she wrote down the orders to lower the sedative, and then she carefully lowered the sheet and blanket and raised his gown. Sure enough, on his stomach were the tell-tale beginnings of a bright red blotchy rash. Damn! She shook her head and mentally cussed out the kid who had bitten him, then cussed the mother who hadn't bothered to bring her kid to the doctor when he first showed symptoms.

She found Kel back in the emergency department. "Kel, I just saw Johnny. Three guesses but you're only gonna need one."

Brackett sighed. "He has the rash?"

"Yes. And I left orders to lower the sedative."

"Good. Switch his antibiotic to erythromycin."

Dixie scribbled a note, then headed back to Johnny's room to make the switch. She took down the bag of Ceftin and hung a bag of erythromycin. "Hang in there, Tiger," she said softly. Then she washed her hands and went to look in on Roy.

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"Hey, Roy, how are you doing?" Dixie plumped up the pillows under Roy's head and patted him on the shoulder before she went about checking his vitals.

"OK." He wasn't really. He'd barely slept. He'd forced himself not to cry about Mom. There would be time for that later. For now, he had to hold himself together so he could arrange for her burial. Not that he would be able to attend a funeral for a while. Maybe it could wait until he was ready for a wheelchair. But he had a whole list of people he needed to notify, starting with his sister, Marta.

His eyes met Dixie's briefly. The concern in her gaze was clear. She knew he wasn't telling the truth. She grasped his hand. "I'm really sorry about your mother. She was a lovely woman."

"She was, thanks." Roy looked around, but his wallet wasn't in reach. Most likely it was in a bag with his clothes. "Dixie, could you hand me my wallet? I need to contact my sister." Marta had probably been trying to reach Mom ever since she heard about the quake. Or she was trying to call the station. All she'd get there was a "We're sorry, but the number you have dialed has been disconnected."

Roy hated calling Marta with bad news, especially while she was on tour, but he couldn't just let her panic. She needed to know. He didn't have a phone number for her hotel, but she always gave him an emergency contact number when she was traveling, and he kept it in his wallet, just in case.

Dixie opened the closet where Roy's things were kept, pulled his wallet out of his pants pocket, and brought it to him. "Here you go."

Roy opened the wallet and looked through the contents. There behind his insurance card was the slip of paper with the contact number. "Can I make an international call from here?" he asked. "Marta's in Ireland with her orchestra."

Dixie shook her head. "Not from a patient room, but if you'll give me the number, I'll make the call from the nurse's station. Then I can transfer it to you."

"Thanks, Dix."

Five minutes later, the phone at Roy's bedside rang. He couldn't easily reach it, but Dixie returned, picked up the handset, and handed it to him. "I won't go far. Just hit the call button when you're done." She slipped out.

"Hello," Roy said to the voice on the other end. "This is Roy DeSoto. I need to reach my sister Marta Kallas. It's urgent. She's with the Ithaca Chamber Orchestra. Oh, they're there? Yes, yes, I can wait."

Soon he heard Marta's voice. She spoke quickly, her tendency when she was upset. "Hello, Roy? Oh, I've been trying and trying to reach you and Mom. Your home phone is out of order and Mom's just rings, and the station phone isn't working anymore either." Her voice was strained and thin, and Roy had a feeling she was close to tears.

"Hi, Marta. I'm sorry you couldn't get me. I'm in the hospital. I had a bad fall during the quake." He wasn't sure how much he should tell her. The main thing she needed to know was that Mom was gone. Everything else seemed inconsequential at this point.

"Oh, no, Roy, I'm sorry. Is Mom there with you?"

"Mom…" Roy's voice trailed off. He couldn't get the words out. "Can you come home, Marta? You and Bastian? I… I… you need to be here." He pressed the call button, hoping that Dixie would be the one to respond. "Hang on, Marta." Try as he might, he couldn't push the emotions aside so he could deliver the bad news.

"Roy, what's going on? Talk to me, Roy!" Marta's pitch rose. She was getting angry.

As soon as Dixie appeared, Roy handed her the phone. "You do it," he pleaded. "I… I can't."

Dixie nodded. Compassion shone in her eyes. "Marta? This is Nurse Dixie McCall. I'm afraid I have some difficult news to give you. Your mother was among the victims who passed away in the quake on the fifteenth. Your brother was injured, but we're taking good care of him. I know you're traveling — are you able to get back here?"

As she listened to Marta, she sat next to Roy and squeezed his hand. Dixie told Marta about Roy's condition. Finally, she handed Roy the phone again.

"I'm sorry, Marta. I just about lost it there."

Marta was crying. Roy thought he heard her husband's voice murmuring to her. Bastian was one of the good guys. His voice came over the line next. "Roy, I'm sorry you're dealing with this on your own. Marta and I will get tickets on the next flight. We'll be there as soon as we can. Hang in there."

He nodded. "OK, Bas. Hug Marta for me." He wished he could reach through the phone line and hug her himself. "Tell her I love her."

Before he could hang up, he heard Marta. She must have grabbed the phone back. "I love you too, Roy. Bye." Her voice wobbled a little. She was trying to be strong. The line clicked. Roy passed the handset back to Dixie and she hung it up.

Then she squeezed his shoulder. "You're not in this alone, Roy. Kel and I, Joe, Hank and the guys, we're all here to do whatever you need."

"Thanks, Dix. I know."

The orderly arrived just then with Roy's lunch. He waved it away, but Dixie glared at him. "You need to eat." She adjusted his bed so he was sitting up, then set the tray in front of him.

Roy reluctantly took up his fork. "Fine."

Dixie kissed him on the forehead and patted his shoulder. "Kel is expecting me downstairs, but I'll be back later to check on you."

"Bye, Dix." Roy waved. As soon as she was gone, he pushed the tray away. His stomach couldn't handle food right now. Maybe later. He picked up the remote and turned on the television. Nothing like a little mind-numbing soap opera to help while away the hours.

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Kitty McIntire had only been working at Rampart for three weeks. She'd graduated from nursing school in Iowa, gotten her license, and accepted the offer of a job here. She had been excited about the move from the first. She was an Iowa farm girl who had never traveled anywhere, and California was an exotic, glamorous place. She especially felt like that at the beach, gazing out over the ocean. Mama had warned her about earthquakes, but Kitty just waved it off. "They don't happen all that often," she'd said. "And mostly they're so little you barely notice them."

Well, right now she'd give anything to have the firm Iowa ground beneath her feet again. Her first earthquake had been a doozy! Some expert on the radio said it was a seven point two on the Richter scale. And the aftershocks! She'd counted four sizable ones so far. Each time the ground started shaking, her stomach sank almost to her toes. The most recent one had started while she was trying to draw blood from Chet Kelly.

She'd slipped and blown the vein and had to start over again. She felt awful. He was going through so much, and he was such a sweetheart. And now he had a big bruise on the back of his right hand. He hadn't complained, though. Just smiled at her with those baby blues and told her she was pretty. Nobody had ever told her that before. Her brothers had co-opted her middle name and dubbed her Plain Jane.

Now it was time to check his vitals. She slipped into his room. "Hi, Mr. Kelly," she said softly. He was awake but seemed distracted. "How are you feeling?" She made quick work of jotting down his vitals on his chart.

"I've been better, but I guess I shouldn't complain." Chet's eyes were serious though he smiled slightly. "And remember, I'm not Mr. Kelly. I'm Chet."

"All right, Chet." She smiled, though she couldn't quite bring herself to meet his eyes. If she did, she knew her face would go bright red. "Your vitals look pretty good." She sat beside his bed. "But you haven't eaten your lunch." She slid his untouched tray in front of him.

He grimaced. "Not hungry."

Kitty could sympathize. She couldn't tell what kind of meat that was supposed to be, and the mashed potatoes were a nondescript gray glob. "Now, I can see how this tray of hospital food might put you off eating, but it's important that you keep your strength up." Then she lowered her voice. "If I snuck something in for you, what would you like?"

He sighed. "I'm really not that hungry, but I suppose I could eat some potato salad. Blummer's Deli on Normandie makes the best."

Kitty arched her eyebrows. "Ahh, but you haven't had my mama's potato salad!" Then she giggled. "Actually, I like Blummer's too, and Mama is back in Iowa, so her potato salad isn't an option. I'll be over that way on my lunch break, so I'll bring some back for you." Her fingers went to the bruise on the back of his hand. "I'm so sorry about this. I hope it doesn't still hurt."

He shrugged. "It's OK, you didn't do it on purpose."

"No. But I shouldn't get all weak-kneed and fumble-fingered every time the earth shakes. My older brothers would love to tease me about that."

His blue eyes flashed. "Then they're idiots. Listen, I hate earthquakes too. Don't worry about it."

"Part of me wants to pack up and move back to Iowa." She let her eyes linger on him. Their next words came out in unison. "But then I wouldn't be able to get to know you better."

And from Chet, "Don't do that!"

Her cheeks warmed. "Why not?"

Chet grinned. "You said it yourself. You wouldn't be able to get to know me better. And Kitty, that is something I would very much like." Suddenly, he was serious. He took her hand in his. "Very much."

She squeezed his hand. "So would I." Then she moved closer, allowing her fingers to linger on his. She wasn't ready to break contact yet. "Is there anything else I could do for you?"

He sighed. "Well, I'd be really grateful if you could get my buddy Marco Lopez in here. See, I think he blames himself for me gettin' hurt. Cap says he hasn't spoken a word since it happened. I need to talk to him."

Kitty nodded. "I'll find him and drag him in here if I have to." She straightened up and, reluctantly, pulled her hand away from his. "But first, Blummer's. It's lunch time, after all!"

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"Pops? I want Daddy!" Jake reached to grab his grandfather's hand. "Why isn't Daddy here?"

"Hey, Buddy." Nic stroked the little boy's cheek. "Remember what I told you? Your Daddy's sick and can't come right now. But you'll see him when he gets better, just like you will your Mama."

Nic was exhausted. He'd spent the day moving between Beth, the boys, and Mike. Mike was still under sedation. Dr. Early wanted him to rest while the swelling in his brain went down. Hopefully when he was allowed to wake up, they would find Nurse Chambers hadn't caused any further damage.

"Pops, Daddy isn't… dead, is he?" Jake's face had crumpled.

Ian's eyes flew open at that. He patted his brother's hand. "No, Jakey. Daddy will be OK. I promise."

It was a promise the doctors wouldn't make, one that Nic hesitated to make. But Ian was certain, and something about the way he said it made Nic believe it. His boy would get his memories back and take his proper place in their lives again.

Thankfully, Ian was making a remarkable recovery, much faster than the doctors had expected. It was one of the few positives of the last few days. Ever since the boys' beds had been moved together, Ian had made rapid strides. He didn't need the oxygen mask anymore, just the cannula, and he had stopped complaining of pain when he breathed or spoke. Chest scans showed that his collapsed lung was almost fully expanded.

"Ian's right, Jake. All right, boys," Nic said. "I need to go visit your mother. Then I'll go see your dad. I'll take your love to them. You get some rest." He kissed each of his grandsons, chuckled when they rubbed their cheeks where he'd pressed his lips, then moved toward the door.

When he got to Beth's room, he found her blinking sleepy eyes and looking around her hospital room in confusion. As good as it was to see her waking up, his heart sank. He didn't know how to tell her about Mike. "Beth, honey! It's good to see you awake!" He pulled her hand into his, smiling as he realized her fever was gone.

"Hi, Pops," she said. "Why'm I at Rampart?"

"Ahh, Bethy, you've been awfully sick." Pops rubbed his thumb in circles on the back of her hand. He and Lucy had always loved her like she was their own. "And you were injured in an earthquake. Your legs are broken."

"Where's Mike?" She clung to him, her soft hand trembling slightly. "I need Mike."

"Hey, Bethy," Nic soothed. "Listen, sweetheart. Mike's sick too. He can't visit you just now. But he'll come as soon as he can. He's been so worried about you." He stroked her forehead, brushing aside a lock of hair that had fallen into her eyes.

"And the boys?"

"They're here too." The question was coming. Nic dreaded it. She would ask about Lucy, and he would have to tell her the bad news. "We were caught in the mall during the quake. The bookstore came down on top of us. But they're doing well. Jake has a broken arm and Ian has a collapsed lung." Her trembling was less now. "Maybe you can visit them soon. They send their love."

She nodded, her eyes fixed on his. "Pops… what about Mom?"

He couldn't get the words out. They stuck in his throat. But she must have seen it in his eyes because her face crumpled, and she started to cry. "No, Pops. No. Please." Beth and Lucy had been two of a kind, kindred spirits. The young woman had found a mother's love from Lucy before she ever fell in love with Mike.

"Hey, sweetheart." Nic pulled Beth into a hug. "Let me tell you about Ian's dream." He'd heard it from Mike, and then from Ian directly. He could picture Lucy as Ian described her, looking young and strong, shining and beautiful. "Lucy is whole and happy. I miss her, and I know I'll see her again. She's in a better place than we are, that's for certain."

Weeping, Beth nodded against his shoulder. He stroked her hair. In that moment, Nic made a decision. He couldn't go home to Fresno alone. That house without Lucy in it would be nothing more than a prison cell. He was staying here, with the people who needed him.

Nic held Beth until she cried herself to sleep. Then he gently lowered her onto her pillows, kissed her on the forehead, and pulled her covers up to her chin. Her fever was gone, but she was still very weak. "I'll be back, sweetheart."

A few minutes later, he sat down by Mike's bedside and pulled his son's hand into his own. "Whatever you need when you wake up, Mike, you'll have it. I'm not leaving. The boys send their love." He yawned. He wasn't sure when he'd last slept. He couldn't afford to let exhaustion take over, though. His family needed him. "Beth woke up, Buddy. She wants to know where you are. The boys do too. They love you. I sure hope you'll remember when you wake up. But even if you don't… even if you never do, we'll get through. We're going to be all right." He sat there, holding Mike's hand, fighting to keep his eyes from sinking shut.

"You look like you're ready to drop any second."

Nic startled. He must have drowsed because he hadn't realized Dixie was in the room, checking Mike's vitals.

She made some notes in Mike's chart, then sat next to him. "Would you like me to bring you in a cot so you can bunk in with your son and get some rest?"

Nic's tired mind needed time to process what she'd said. After a long moment, he shook his head. "I'm OK. They need me."

Dixie wagged a finger close to his face. "Yes, they need you. And if you drop to the floor from exhaustion, you're not going to do any of them any good. You'll just worry them! You need sleep. A few hours will do you a world of good and won't take anything away from anyone. Please?"

With a heavy sigh, Nic surrendered. "OK. I guess you're right." Sleep did sound good.

Dixie smiled. "I'll order the cot right now. Oh, by the way, when was the last time you ate?"

"I think it was breakfast before the quake," Nic admitted. "I haven't felt hungry, though."

"That's grief talking." Dixie's gaze was full of warmth and understanding. "I'll send something for you. You need to eat, or you'll wind up a patient, too."

Nic nodded. "OK. Thanks, Dixie." His eyes met hers. "Thank you for everything you've done for us."

Her eyes sparkled. "You're welcome. Mike's a pretty special guy. His family's pretty special, too." She turned and headed out the door, intent on her tasks.

Once the meal and the cot arrived, Nic forced himself to eat. He still didn't feel hungry, but Dixie was right. He wouldn't be any good for anyone if he collapsed. Finally, he stretched out on the cot. By the time his head hit the pillow, he was already fast asleep and dreaming of Lucy.

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"I feel lousy." Johnny didn't open his eyes. He could hear someone in the room with him. His throat was killing him. So was his hand.

"Hey, Tiger, welcome back! You feel lousy because you're sick." Ahh, it was Dixie.

He coughed. "Yeah… still got pneumonia. But now my throat hurts." It felt like someone had scrubbed it with gravel. He blinked his eyes open.

"I know." Dixie's warm eyes looked down at him. "Do you remember that kid biting you?"

"Yeah. Bratty kid. Mom… at wit's end."

Dixie nodded. "Turns out, not only was he a brat, he was a brat with scarlet fever. He gave it to you. I'm so sorry."

Johnny mustered up the strength to grab her arm. "Dix… Chet an' Roy?"

"Chet's hurting, but he's getting better. No change yet with Roy, but the doctors hope that therapy will help."

Johnny nodded. "M'throat… real raw, Dix."

"I know." She turned around and got something off a tray, then turned back to him. "I need to do a throat swab. Then I can get you some sherbet or ice cream if you'd like."

Johnny nodded again. Talking hurt too much. He opened his mouth wide.

"Good boy." The swab made him gag a little, but it was over quickly. "Got it. Now, how about some raspberry sherbet? I know you like that."

"Mmmhmm." Johnny reached for Dixie's hand and gave it a squeeze. "Thanks."

She smiled. "Be right back." She wasn't gone for much more than a minute. When she came back, she raised his bed so he was sitting up and put the treat in front of him. "You can have as much of this as you like, Johnny. I've told the nurses to make sure they keep plenty in stock for you."

The icy sherbet felt like heaven on his throat. No matter how rough things got, he could always count on Dixie to help him through.

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Marco was in the waiting room again. He needed to get back to Mama, but she was in another one of her moods and he needed a break. Dr. Brackett said these mood swings were normal given her injuries and that they should eventually ease up, but he couldn't help feeling like something else was going on.

And so, he was sitting there, biding his time, reading every magazine he could see. He'd even flipped through a couple issues of Highlights for Children. He was only vaguely aware when a young nurse sat down facing him. "Mr. Lopez?"

He lowered his magazine and nodded. The nurse was a redhead with curly hair and shining green eyes and lots of freckles. A little plain, but in a pleasant sort of way. Her name tag said Nurse McIntire.

"Good," she said, seemingly undeterred by his lack of words. "If you'll come with me please."

He tilted his head and furrowed his brow. Come where? But he couldn't ask. And she was a Rampart nurse. He got to his feet and followed. Maybe it was something to do with Mama. But no, because she led him past Mama's room, up a flight of stairs, and then down the hall and around a corner.

They were almost there when he realized she was taking him to Chet's room. He was about to bolt, but Nurse McIntire grabbed his arm. She was stronger than she looked. Her fingers dug into his arm and there was no way he was going anywhere. "I'm a farm girl, Mr. Lopez, with five older brothers," she said, keeping her voice low but firm. "I'm used to dealing with stubborn asses, so you don't want to fight me. Chet wants to see you. It hurts him that you haven't come yet."

By the time they reached Chet's door, Marco had tears running down his cheeks. He managed to pull free just in time to double over and throw up. When he finished, he looked at the nurse, desperate to get away.

Her eyes widened. "Stay here," she ordered, then scurried away. He might be a stubborn ass, but he wasn't an idiot. He stayed. A couple minutes later, she returned with some wet paper towels, a clean scrub shirt, and a custodian. She might be firm, but Nurse McIntire was also gentle and kind and exactly what Marco needed at the moment. He soon learned she was not about to let him slip away. "You're going in there and spending time with Chet. At least hear him out."

She had her fingers around his arm again. Marco just nodded. She wasn't the kind of girl one said no to. Once he was fresh and clean, she steered him through Chet's open door.

"Hey Marco!" Chet's voice was weak, but his tone was cheerful. "I've missed you, babe! Hi, Kitty. Thanks for bringin' him."

"My pleasure," Kitty said, and she winked.

Marco stood rigidly in place and stared at his best friend. He was mortified that he had put Chet in that hospital bed. It was all his fault.

"Hey, Kitty, can I talk with Marco alone for a bit?" Chet's tone was serious now. He gestured to a chair. "C'mon, Marco. Sit down."

Grudgingly, after a hard look from Nurse McIntire, Marco lowered himself into the chair. "I'll be back in a bit," the nurse said. And then she was gone.

Marco hung his head, afraid of what was coming next.

"Hey," Chet said. "Look at me, pal. Let me see your eyes. Please?" He reached for Marco's hand and gave it a squeeze. "I know what you're worried about, but I'm not mad at you."

Reluctantly, Marco lifted his chin.

Chet's gaze was open and honest and full of compassion. "Marco, Cap says you blame yourself for what happened to me, that it's got you so worked up you can't even talk." His eyes were locked on Marco's. "So don't worry about saying anything. Just listen. This isn't your fault. You woulda done the same for me. I just saw that slide coming and it was gonna take you out and I followed my instincts. Please don't keep kicking yourself over it."

Marco sighed and looked away. His breath hitched and his eyes flooded and suddenly he was sobbing. He could barely see through the tears. Chet's fingers folded around his, his grip surprisingly strong, and didn't let go until Marco's sobs had ceased. Then Chet pushed a box of tissues toward him. Marco wiped his eyes and blew his nose. He used up about half the tissues before he felt presentable. He was calmer now and able to meet Chet's eyes, but when he opened his mouth and tried to speak, his voice still eluded him.

Chet didn't say anything about it. He just pointed to the television remote, which was just out of his reach. "Wanna watch the game? I think the Dodgers are playing."

Marco nodded. He grabbed the remote and flipped through the channels until he found the game. He was much more comfortable now that he knew Chet didn't blame him.

Chet was laughing and excited about the game, even though the Cubs got two runs in the first inning. Around the top of the third, though, he got really quiet. Marco figured he was just getting tired. In the bottom of the third, Chet knocked a hand against Marco's knee. "Hey, pal… could you get me some —" His voice broke off suddenly and he turned white as a sheet.

Marco's eyes widened at the sight of his friend, who seemed to be in agony all of a sudden. Was he having a heart attack? For just a second, Marco was frozen, but then he jumped into action. The call button was nowhere to be seen. Marco didn't want to take time looking for it — Chet needed help. And so, he ran to the door, his heart in his throat, and yelled down the corridor, "We need a doctor right now! Room 417!"

Kelly Brackett came scrambling through a door a few rooms down. On the way, he called for a nurse to join him. "Get a crash cart!" Nurse McIntire came running after him with the equipment he'd demanded. Marco stood aside so they could come into the room.

Marco stood back near the door, murmuring prayers on Chet's behalf. Finally, Brackett came over to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "We're going to take good care of him. He's got a deep infection and an abscess in the area around his stitches, and he's spiked a fever. The pain is making it hard for him to catch his breath, so we've put him on oxygen."

Feeling a little faint, Marco steadied himself against the wall and nodded at Brackett, who was still talking.

"We've got to knock this infection out and it could prove tough, but we know which antibiotic to use. We've also got some stronger pain relief on board, and that should help a lot. Thank you for getting me in here so fast."

"I'm glad he'll be all right." For the first time all day, Marco felt a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

"Me too. And I'm glad to hear your voice again, hose jockey." He clapped Marco on the shoulder.

Kitty squeezed Marco's arm. "Aren't you glad I made you come in?"

Marco blushed slightly but smiled. "Si, señorita. Thank you."

Then Nurse McIntire moved to Chet's bedside and sat there. Marco watched her pull Chet's hand into her own. With her free hand, she pulled some rosary beads out of a pocket and started praying through them.

Marco switched off the television. The Cubs had just scored another run anyway. He decided to leave Chet and his nurse alone. "Hey, Pal, I'll be back to visit you later." Man, he had never appreciated the ability to speak like he did now. As he slipped out, he felt so light he just might start floating away.

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Pepita cradled baby Liliana to her chest. She'd convinced Dixie to let her bring the baby to meet Mama. "Hey, baby girl," she crooned. "This is your abuelita."

"Let me hold her." Mama stretched out her arms and Pepita laid the baby in them.

"Her name is Liliana Esperanza, Mama, in honor of you."

Pepita wished Mateo could be there with them, but all police officers in the Rampart Division were on duty until things got back to normal. Pepita was worried about her mother's upcoming brain surgery, and about the abrupt personality changes she was seeing in the meantime. She missed the familiar warm, loving Mama she'd always known. Dr. Early had assured them that the surgery should help Mama regain her old personality. Pepita could only pray he was right. In the meantime, she watched her mother study her granddaughter, a smile spreading slowly over her tired and drawn features. Baby Liliana watched her grandma, seemingly just as fascinated. Pepita was astonished that the baby seemed to be tracking her grandmother's eyes.

Then Mama finally smiled. "This is a special little one you have here, Daughter. Very strong. Very wise."

"She's only a baby, Mama." Pepita smiled indulgently. Baby Liliana was something special, but wasn't it bad luck to say so?

"I know these things. Don't argue." Mama softened the words with a chuckle. "Baby Liliana is like her mother. You were always an old soul, Pepita." Suddenly, Mama seemed tired, her face ashen. "Take her, please."

Pepita reached for the baby, who fussed a little at leaving her grandmother's arms. "Are you OK, Mama? Should I get the nurse?"

"I'm fine. I just have a headache. I'm always tired." At least she was still in a mellow mood.

"I'll go back to my room, then." She pressed the call button so the nurse would come wheel her back. "I love you, Mama." She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her mother's cheek.

"I love you too, Daughter." Mama sighed. "I miss my home. I would like to be cooking tamales tonight for my family."

Pepita nodded. "I understand. Hospital food is a far cry from your cooking. But I thought you wanted to make carne asada."

Mama smiled. "Of course, carne asada and corn and tamales. Marco will be hungry when he gets off shift."

Pepita looked at her, concerned. "Mama, Marco is here at the hospital. He's not on shift." The nurse came in just then. "Nurse, could you get a doctor? Something's wrong."

The nurse asked no questions but left the room immediately to find a doctor.

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Marco heard the call over the intercom. "Dr. Early to room 413, stat." That was Mama's room. He burst into a run. Down the stairs, along the hall, around the corner, and into Mama's room just as Dr. Early came hurrying along from the other direction, Dixie McCall at his heels. Pepita was sitting there in a wheelchair, clutching baby Liliana close.

"What happened?" Marco asked.

"See," Mama said, "Marco is home from work, as I said. Now we can make tamales and carne asada. I just need to get a few things from the store."

"Mama, you aren't home. You're in the hospital." Marco grabbed her hands. "You have to stay in bed."

Mama looked at him as if he were loco. "No, Marquito, take me to the store." She tried to get out of bed, then suddenly clutched her head as if in great pain. She fell back against the pillows.

Marco watched in horror. The whole right side of Mama's face was drooping. She tried to speak, but her words came out garbled.

"She's stroking out." Joe Early pushed past Marco and the room became a flurry of activity. Dixie rushed Marco and Pepita out of the room. Several machines were wheeled in, and the door was firmly closed behind them.

"Marco… what —" Pepita was in tears, clutching the baby to her chest. "Is Mama dying?"

Marco wheeled his sister to the nearby waiting area and knelt next to her. It was tempting to tell her comforting lies, but he couldn't do that. "I don't know, Pepita. She's had a stroke. That's really bad. All we can do right now is pray for her and wait to hear what Dr. Early has to say."

"What are we going to do? We don't have a home anymore. Mama doesn't even know that. I have nothing for the baby. We've lost everything."

"Listen to me. We're going to be all right. I have some money put away. I saved a lot of my paychecks. That will help until the insurance kicks in. We'll rebuild. We'll do whatever we have to do to take care of Mama. We'll be OK, I promise."

Pepita nodded, but she was still sobbing. Suddenly she looked up at him. "Wait — you're talking again."

"Yes. It was a matter of being forgiven by someone. And forgiving myself. Don't ask. It's complicated."

She nodded, then rubbed a sleeve across her eyes. "I think I need a tissue."

He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to her. "Old habit Mama started me on. A gentleman always carries an extra handkerchief."

Pepita accepted the handkerchief and blew her nose. Her eyes were still wet and streaked with red. "Thanks. Can you take me back to my room? My rosary is in there, and I want to pray for Mama."

He nodded, then looked at the baby. "Also, I think someone is getting hungry!"

Pepita smiled down at her daughter, who was nestling up to her breast. "Yes, it seems she is." She looked up at her brother. "I shouldn't have said we lost everything. We still have each other. Our nieces and nephews are OK. That's going to get us through all the struggles."

Marco kissed his favorite sister on the forehead. "It always has, Pepita. It always will."

◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊

Albuquerque to Carson was about a twelve-hour drive. Of course, that was made longer with kids. They never could get far before someone called out from the backseat, "I gotta go!" Then they'd have to look for the next exit with services, pull off, and go inside with Chris or Megan to find a restroom. At least D.J., still in diapers, was more easily accommodated. And at least those stops afforded Jo an opportunity to call Roy and let him know where they were.

Jo spent most of the drive close to tears. Thankfully, Dad understood. He knew what Harriet had meant to her. He'd explained to the kids that Mom was tired and made sure they left her alone and didn't ask questions she wasn't up to answering. He'd been wonderful, not just doing the lion's share of the driving, but keeping Chris and Megan entertained with his funny stories and willingness to sing silly songs with them.

By the time they reached Needles, just inside the California border, Dad was tired. Jo was too. They pulled into the parking lot of Nelly's Motel, thankful for the "Vacancy" sign. Nelly's was a favorite stop from previous road trips. The proprietor, Nelly Vance, had high standards. The rooms would be clean and safe. Dad went in and made the arrangements. Then he carried their stuff into the room. He picked up D.J. and herded Chris and Megan toward the door. "I'll take the kids next door to get dinner. We'll bring something back for you. Call Roy and get some rest."

Jo nodded. "Thanks, Daddy." Next door was a Pizza Hut. The kids would love that.

She picked up the phone and dialed the number for Rampart. A few minutes later, she heard her husband's voice on the other end of the line. "We'll be there tomorrow," she promised. "We're in Needles tonight. I miss you."

"I miss you too, honey."

They talked for a little while. He didn't have anything new to share, but it was a comfort just hearing his voice. "You sound wiped out, Jo. Get some rest. I love you."

"Yeah." She yawned. She was too tired to argue. "See you tomorrow. Love you." She hung up the phone, then nestled her head into the pillow and fell asleep.