The chaos and unpredictability of the ER always invigorated Mark mentally and emotionally. Despite nearly becoming a heart surgeon many years ago, he never regretted his decision to go with internal medicine instead.
However, a sliver of doubt or two will creep in on days like today when reality refuses to cooperate with his intentions.
Since Steve confirmed during their phone call yesterday that he and Aurie were returning to Malibu today, Mark planned to leave early so he'd be home to welcome them back when they got in. Unfortunately, a construction site accident resulted in several casualties with injuries of varying degrees of severity. All available medical personnel were urgently needed. He couldn't in good conscience not stick around to help.
Things are finally calming in the ER for Mark to jot down some notes in a patient chart when he hears his cell phone ping with a text alert. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out his phone. Looking at the screen, a pleased expression spreads across his face as he reads the message and then types a quick reply.
"That look must mean Steve and Aurie must be finally back from Tucson," Jesse's amused voice observes.
Glancing at his young friend standing next to him at the same counter and also writing notes in a chart, Mark grins.
"Thankfully safe and sound. It would've been nice to have made it home ahead of them, but I can't complain too much. They're home and all our patients are on their way to recovering. I call that a win-win."
"The cherry on top is getting all the dirt about their trip back," Jesse states, handing the finished chart to the nurse and opening the next one. "They had a nice long car ride to progress on building their relationship. Or bicker. Depends on how things went."
"Well, hopefully, no bickering. However, I've got to admit I'm eager to find out if they got to discussing their expectations."
"Expectations?" Jesse questions. "Like what? That Steve isn't going to be abusive like her mother?"
"That should go without saying," Mark replies while working on another chart. "But considering what Amalia seems to have put her through, Steve intended to make sure Aurie understands how we'll treat her and what to expect from us and vice versa. We want her to focus on having a normal childhood and enjoy the freedom of being herself. Basically, he's going to lay out a good foundation for their relationship."
"Considering what you've shared so far, that sounds like it's easier said than done."
"But it's a place to start," Mark counters, finishing another chart. "And if they got to talking, hopefully, Aurie felt comfortable enough to share her expectations beyond not being abused anymore."
"Well, even if she doesn't, I'm sure in time she will," Jesse reasons, also finishing a chart.
"I'm trying to stay optimistic, Jesse. It's just that Amalia has done so much damage in such a short time that I get the feeling we're going to end up in situations where every step forward will result in two back."
"Then turn it into a dance where Aurie will want to progress across the dance floor," Jesse quips, earning a laugh from Mark. "Even if Aurie says nothing, Steve letting her know what she can expect from you both is going to help a lot because we know he's going to be nothing but honest. Then your actions will back up his words. She'll eventually relax and gradually open up and let you guys in."
"You're right, Jess," Mark sighs, handing the nurse behind the desk another file. "It's just the signs are clear it's not going to be easy."
"Well, yeah," Jesse shrugs. "But you and Steve already have a strong relationship and work so well together. She needs that and it will get all of you through this."
Turning to face Jess, Mark rests his elbow on the counter and places his other hand on his hip.
"Did you ever consider specializing in psychology?" he sardonically asks his young friend.
"Nah, too boring and tedious listening to people gripe about their lives all day," Jesse playfully waves off, eliciting another chuckle from Mark. "Listen, why don't you get out of here and go home before it gets busy in here again."
"I will do just that in a moment," Mark mumbles as he finishes writing then hands the file off to the nurse. "Okay, that's my last chart. You need to head out too, Jess."
"I'm just about to."
Jesse finishes his last chart. After handing it over to the nurse, he walks away from the desk with Mark.
"So, are you, Steve, and Aurie heading over to Bob's for dinner?" Jesse asks.
"Steve said Aurie doesn't want to go anywhere and wants to have dinner at home."
"Are you having something delivered?"
Mark shakes his head.
"Nope. Aurie wants to cook."
Confused, Jesse eyes Mark.
"Are you sure the test results prove Aurie is Steve's daughter? Because he never wants to cook. He's always weaseling out of cooking when it's his turn."
"Well, obviously that's not a trait she got from him," Mark chuckles. "And the best part is, she's making tacos. After what she told us at BBQ Bobs, I'm eager to try them."
"Okay, now I'm jealous," Jesse teases as they enter Mark's office. "Normally I'd try manipulating an invite to dinner, but from what you described, it sounds like you guys need some alone time. So, I expect a full report tomorrow on how good her tacos are."
"I promise you'll get the chance to try her tacos soon," Mark grins as he hangs his lab coat. "And thank you for not pushing to come over. From what Steve texted, it doesn't sound like Aurie is up for a lot of company tonight."
"That's okay," Jesse waves off as they leave the office. "Just be ready to dish the dirt to Amanda and me tomorrow and we'll call it even."
"All right," Mark chuckles as they part ways in the hallway. "Have a good night."
"You too," Jesse waves back as he heads off in the opposite direction.
It's nearly three-thirty when Steve pulls into the driveway of the beach house. Parking the truck, he cuts the engine and they both climb out.
"Looks like Dad couldn't get off early like he planned," Steve observes as they pull their bags out of the back and close the doors. "He wanted to be here when we got in."
"Isn't his usual time to get home at five?" Aurie asks as they walk the path up to the house.
"Usually," he agrees. "But if something big happens resulting in a lot of casualties, he'd stick around the hospital to help and might not get home until late."
"As the head of Internal Medicine, doesn't that make him the boss?"
"One of the bosses," he agrees, picking up her rolling bag by the handles to carry it up the stairs for her.
"Thanks," she replies as he sets the bag down on the landing to unlock the door. "If he's a boss, he could leave whenever he wants, right?"
"He could," Steve smirks as they step inside the house. "But he'd stick around and help if he was needed. He wouldn't leave until every patient was taken care of. Anyway, go get settled. I'm going to take my bag downstairs and try calling Dad. If I can't reach him, we'll have to figure out dinner."
Nodding, Aurie heads for her room as Steve goes downstairs. Deciding she's not in the mood to unpack, she steps into the hallway and goes to the kitchen. After taking a glass from a cabinet, she opens the fridge and grabs a pitcher of iced tea, filling her glass before replacing the pitcher. Taking a sip, she thinks about dinner. She guesses maybe Steve or Mark might want to go out to dinner. That'd be nice, but she's tired from the trip and just wants to stay in and relax. Maybe Steve is tired too since he had to do all the driving.
Stepping into the side room off the kitchen where Mark has a large upright freezer, Aurie dives inside to see what lies within. Happily discovering a bag containing two pounds of frozen raw shrimp she takes it back to the kitchen. She's rooting around in the refrigerator when Steve returns upstairs searching for her.
"What are you doing?" he asks, entering the kitchen.
Stepping away and closing the door, Aurie joins him at the island counter with a small bundle of cilantro, a tomato, a lemon, and a lime in her hands.
"I'm figuring out dinner," she replies, placing everything on the counter. "Were you able to reach Mark?"
"He didn't answer his phone, so I left a message," he answers while watching her poke around the cabinets. "I think Dad wanted to take us to dinner, but if he's going to be late, we can get something delivered."
"It's been a long trip," her voice drifts out of a cabinet. "I don't know about you, but I don't feel like going anywhere and would like to stay in and relax. Oh, cool, he's got some." Straightening up, she closes the cabinet and returns to the island, placing a small can of chopped black olives on the island. "I need to go to the market across the street to get a couple of things, but I nearly have everything to make shrimp tacos."
"How is cooking more relaxing than going somewhere to eat dinner? Someone else would be doing the cooking and clean up."
"Because I like to cook. And I clean as I go so it's not so bad at the end," she shrugs before digging around the kitchen for the utensils, colander, and knife. "Besides, we'd have to agree on where to go then head there. Since it's so close to rush hour you'll be dealing with traffic and wasn't the whole point in getting here early to avoid all that? Kinda contradicts the relaxation of going out for dinner. And, yeah, delivery solves that but then you've got to wait for however long it takes for the food to arrive. And that's if the order isn't screwed up in some way."
"Okay, those are good points, but you still have to go out and get whatever you don't have then come back and cook it."
"I don't mind," she smiles slightly. "I just need corn tortillas, queso fresco, and a jicama to make the tacos epic. It won't take long to walk across the street to get all of that."
Steve studies her for a moment before shaking his head.
"Well, if you really want to cook, I'll go with you since I'd like to get some beer for tonight."
"Okay," she agrees. "Give me a couple of minutes. I want to put the shrimp in water to start defrosting them."
At Steve's nod, she proceeds to do exactly that while he texts Mark to let him know they're home and what they're doing. Almost immediately his phone pings with an alert. He smiles while reading the message.
"Dad said it got busy in the ER and it's barely easing up," he informs Aurie as he pockets his phone. "He'll be coming home soon and got excited when I mentioned you were making tacos."
Aurie smiles in amusement as she finishes filling the bowl of shrimp with water.
"I don't usually brag, but when it comes to my tacos I will. He won't be disappointed."
"You said you can back it up, so you've got the right to brag," Steve chuckles. "I know I'm looking forward to it."
"Good," she smiles. "I'm ready."
Steve nods and stands up. Together they leave the house and cross the road to the Trancas Market across the street. Luckily, they find everything they both want to get.
When they get back to the house, Steve puts a few cans of strawberry Fanta they bought in the fridge. Then he takes his beer downstairs to put in his fridge, deciding he's going try Aurie's suggestion of having strawberry soda with his tacos.
Meanwhile, Aurie starts working on the shrimp. Draining off the water, she starts cutting the large shrimp into thirds. Thankfully they were already deveined with no tails, saving some work.
Steve returns and settles on a stool to watch as she finishes cutting the shrimp into smaller chunks and tossing them into a glass mixing bowl. Taking the lime and cutting it in half, she then twists and grinds the juice out of it on a glass citrus juicer and reamer his dad has. After dumping the juice onto the shrimp, she repeats the process with the other half of the lime before doing the same thing to the lemon. She covers the bowl with clingy plastic wrap and after making room in the fridge puts it inside.
She washes the cutting board and knife in preparation for the next step. She rinses the cilantro and leaves it in the colander to drain. Steve watches as she finely dices up the onion, then a couple cloves of garlic, and a tomato.
"Is that a type of potato?" Steve asks when she grabs the jicama and starts cutting off the skin with a knife.
"No," Aurie replies. "It's technically a bean." She smiles at his confused look as she starts cutting it. "Confused me too when I learned that. But I thought it was like a giant version of water chestnuts because of their crunchiness and light flavor. Some scientists decided it was more like beans and peas," she shrugs as she slices a piece and hands it to Steve. "It's got a light, sweet taste to it and is a bit starchy," she explains as he tries it.
"Not bad, but doesn't have a strong flavor," Steve observes after taking a crunchy bite.
"Which is why I like using it in my shrimp tacos," she states while dicing up what she'll use. "They go well together. And you don't have to cook it before eating it. I like soaking slices in lemon juice, sometimes with a light dusting of salt." At Steve's baffled expression she smirks, "It's one of those things you have to try unless you hate sweet and sour flavors."
"One of those it might taste better than it sounds situations," Steve nods. "But I'm game to try it sometime."
"Then later I'll put what's left of the jicama in lemon juice. It needs some time to soak up the flavor."
After scooping up the diced jicama into a small bowl, Aurie takes the cilantro and starts chopping it up. When finished, she puts that into a bowl and then washes the cutting board and knife before cutting the queso fresco. The white cheese is very crumbly, but Aurie cuts a slice for Steve to try. It has a springy texture to it, but he likes the soft, slightly tangy, and milky taste.
When she finishes cutting everything she needs, she cleans up before heating some oil in a small frying pan and begins frying the white corn tortillas into taco shells.
"Why didn't you want to use the pre-made taco shells?" he asks, remembering the face she made when he held up a box while they were shopping.
"Because they taste old like they've been sitting on a shelf forever," she explains while deftly manipulating the tortillas in the hot oil. Glancing over and seeing his arched brow, she adds, "There is a flavor difference. Those are crunchy, but even if you get them out of the box unbroken, they easily fall apart. It's annoying when half your taco disintegrates onto your plate when you barely bite into it. I hate that."
"True," Steve concedes with a nod. "But isn't the way you're frying it harder since you're not making the shells in a deep fryer? And why not make them like street tacos? The tortillas are warmed and not even fried."
"I didn't have a deep fryer, so I figured out how to make crispy shells this way, which I've gotten so good at that it doesn't take me long. And street tacos are lazy and don't qualify as tacos to me," she irritably huffs, amusing Steve. "Usually, they have to use two tortillas and when you pick them up you kinda end up rolling them where you're eating them like a burrito just to keep everything inside it."
"Even with the soft tortillas, I've had some really good street tacos."
"Yeah, I've had some good ones too, and I get why a lot of food trucks do it that way because it's quicker, but I still prefer my tacos crunchy."
Steve watches as she methodically fries each shell when he hears the front door opening and closing.
"Boy, does that smell good!" Mark declares, stepping into the kitchen moments later.
"Hi, Dad," Steve greets him.
"Hi," Aurie smiles, placing the last shell on the platter with the rest as she moves the pan to an unlit burner to cool off.
"Hi, Steve," Mark greets his son.
Smiling, Steve watches as Mark steps over to Aurie and surprises her with a hug that she hesitantly returns.
"Welcome home." Pulling back and releasing her, he smiles and then looks over at Steve. "Sorry I wasn't here before you guys got in, but I'm glad you're both safe."
"When I didn't see your car in the driveway, I figured something big happened at the hospital," Steve shrugs.
"Construction site mishap," Mark sighs in exhaustion. "We can talk about it over dinner. I'm going to get comfortable. Be right back."
"Okay," Steve nods as Mark disappears from the kitchen.
Returning his attention to his daughter, Steve watches as she moves the platter with the shells out of her way.
"That's a lot of tacos, aren't you making any sides?"
"Nope," she replies while retrieving the shrimp from the fridge. "As weird as this is going to sound, I don't like Spanish rice or, at least, never tasted any I've liked. So, I don't make it."
Pulling out a larger frying pan from the cabinet she sets it on the stove and lights the burner before combining the shrimp, onions, and garlic into it.
"Refried beans would've been nice," she continues. "But I like to make that from scratch, and I'll make a large pot, so I'll put some into storage bags and freeze them for later. That takes about four hours, and I didn't have time to make any for dinner today. I think about five tacos each should fill us up. If not, it's easy to make more. I've got enough ingredients left."
"You really do like to cook, don't you?" Steve asks in surprise as Mark steps back into the room more casually dressed.
"Which had Jesse questioning the paternity test when I mentioned that Aurie insisted on cooking since you like to sneak out of making dinner when it's your turn," Mark teases his son, earning a glare from Steve and a laugh from Aurie. "Do you need any help, Aurie?"
"No, thank you," she shakes her head while adding different seasonings to the shrimp.
"That smells great," Mark compliments. Noting the dishes piling in the sink, he steps over to start washing them. "Besides tacos, what else are we having?"
"Just tacos," Steve replies. "I was asking Aurie about it and learned she doesn't like Spanish rice and likes making refried beans from scratch. Hence why I was commenting on how much she likes to cook when you rudely interrupted with your wisecrack."
"It wasn't like I was interrupting you helping Aurie with clean up," Mark retorts. "Set a good parental example and come dry these dishes."
Rolling his eyes, Steve grudgingly slides off his stool and grabs a towel to start drying.
"Sorry, there's so many dishes," Aurie apologizes through her amusement at their banter while turning off the burner.
"Consider this our sweat equity since you're cooking for us," Mark quips.
"Speak for yourself, Dad," Steve retorts.
"Okay, then consider this as a way for Aurie to continue doing what she likes," he grins at Steve's eye roll.
"Well, it's something I grew to like in the past year," she explains, placing five taco shells on each plate. "When I started working at El Parador, I was amazed at what food they offered and by watching Catalina and Isabella in the kitchen. When they weren't picking on each other and bickering, they were having fun even when it was busy." While she talks, she starts filing the tacos. "When I found out they even cook at home or for family parties, I asked them if they got sick of cooking so much. Both said no because it's cheaper and healthier than take out or eating at another restaurant or frozen dinners. They also said good food is their way of expressing their love for their family and friends, bringing everyone closer together."
"That's a nice sentiment," Steve comments as he and Mark finish up their task. "I hadn't thought of it that way, but it makes sense."
"Because you never cook at home," Mark grins again at his son, earning another glare while drying his hands with another towel. Looking at Aurie, he asks, "Is dinner almost ready?"
"Yeah," Aurie nods in amusement.
"We'll set the table."
"We?" Steve arches a brow.
"If you want to eat, yes," Mark retorts, retrieving napkins from a drawer.
"I'll get our drinks," Steve rolls his eyes. "So, Isabella and Catalina inspired you to cook?" he asks Aurie while stepping over to a cabinet to get glasses.
"Yeah. Before those drug dealers downstairs succeeded, I nearly burned down my kitchen a couple of times and then started asking them for a lot of advice when I was at work." She briefly pauses to give Steve and Mark a chance to finish chuckling while she finishes filling the tacos on the second plate. "They were right," she continues, picking up the two finished plates she hands them off to Mark to take to the dining room. "It was a lot cheaper and healthier because the salt content in those frozen dinners is crazy high. Plus, I liked what I cooked and found it relaxing."
Having finished filling the tacos on the third plate, she hands it to Mark. She steps over to the sink to wash her hands as Steve finishes pouring strawberry soda into ice-filled glasses. Stepping back into the kitchen, Mark arches a brow.
"Strawberry soda?"
"Aurie swears it tastes great with Mexican food," Steve replies, handing a glass to his dad and carrying the other two into the dining room.
"It does," Aurie confidently adds, having dried her hands with a towel. "Let's eat," she suggests with a smile.
"You don't have to tell me twice," he smiles back and heads into the dining room with her.
Steve is already seated and briefly distracts himself with his cell phone while waiting for Mark and Aurie. Mark eases into the other chair. Aurie is a little confused that she's stuck with the remaining seat between the two because she thought they'd be sitting next to each other like they've done every meal so far. Mentally shrugging it off, she sits down, not noticing the pleased look passing between father and son at their tacit manipulation.
Picking up a taco, Mark eagerly tries it, his eyes widening in surprise. He doesn't miss the hum of pleasure from Steve as he takes his first bite. Savoring the flavors before swallowing he looks at Aurie sitting to his right.
"Not that I doubted when you said you make good tacos, but these are great!"
"No kidding," Steve agrees, joining his dad in smiling at his now bashful daughter.
"I've had a lot of practice making them so much over the past year," she shyly smiles.
"Well, thank you for making them for us," Mark states.
"You're welcome," she quietly replies.
"Yes, thank you, Aurie," Steve agrees, earning another shy smile from her and mentally thinking she really isn't used to compliments. "And you're right about the strawberry soda."
"Wait until you taste them with enchiladas or beef tacos," Aurie points out, recovering some confidence.
"Looking forward to it," Steve replies.
"You know," Mark begins. "Jesse wants a report from me in the morning on your tacos, but I think it'll make him and Amanda start spontaneously showing up on the days you're cooking, Aurie."
"Like they don't do that already," Steve playfully rolls his eyes.
"Anything else I make isn't going to be as good as my tacos," Aurie hesitantly points out.
"Even if it isn't, it's the best way to get practice," Mark replies.
"And you get willing Guinea pigs," Steve adds, causing them to laugh.
"As long as they don't mind," Aurie smirks.
"They won't," both men reply simultaneously, causing more laughter.
Calming, Steve looks over at Mark.
"You were going to tell us about that construction site mishap, Dad."
"Thankfully no one died," Mark replies after swallowing. "It was one of those life is stranger than fiction moments including raccoons and construction equipment involving compressed air."
As they continue eating, Mark shares his day with them. Unable to restrain her curiosity, Aurie asks him questions, especially about anything medical she doesn't understand. When they finish their food, Steve and Mark decline her offer to make them more tacos, resisting temptation. Gathering up the plates, Mark needles Steve into washing and drying the rest of the dishes while Aurie handles putting the leftover ingredients away.
While they work, Mark ends up sharing his experiences over the past few days while they've been gone. Despite speaking with Steve nightly, their conversations remained focused on Aurie. Excepting the first night when he spoke with Aurie, he didn't speak with her any other night.
When all the cleanup is done, they head into the den. Settling on the sofa with Aurie, Mark insists on checking her injuries, starting with her arm. He sends Steve to fetch his medical bag and then has him move a lamp closer so he can see the healing wound better.
"This is looking pretty good," he observes. "I might have taped it with a couple of butterfly stitches, but it's healing nicely. We'll keep it bandaged for a couple more days to keep it clean until it fully closes up."
Steve opens a fresh patch for Mark who positions it on her wound. Taking a fresh roll of gauze from his son, he winds it around her forearm before taping the end in place.
"Now let me see the one on your back," he tells Aurie.
Nodding, she shifts around on the sofa to face away from him. She then hikes up the back of her shirt. Mark gently removes the taped patch, handing it to Steve for disposal. He leans in close for a better look.
"It's nice that most of the bruising from the attack has faded away. And this wound is also looking pretty good. Despite your opinion it was a waste of thread, Aurie, this was deep enough to warrant a stitch or two."
Steve grins at the annoyed glare she throws over her shoulder at Mark who ignores it in favor of taping a fresh patch over the wound.
"I think we can safely remove the stitches later this week," he states while he works. "If you want to shower sooner, we can try a waterproof patch, but they're not a hundred percent reliable. So, if you can put up with taking towel baths until then, it'd be better."
"I can," Aurie confirms, adjusting her shirt back into place.
"Well, it's a nice evening. Do you two want to join me for a long walk on the beach?" Mark asks, looking between his son and granddaughter.
"Sure," Steve readily agrees.
"Okay," Aurie nods.
Within minutes, she's walking between them as they stroll along the beach. A light breeze rolls in with the gentle waves as the sun eases lower on the horizon.
"So, how was your drive back?" Mark asks them. "I didn't hear about you two getting involved in any more car wrecks."
Steve chuckles as Aurie smiles at Mark's joke.
"It was a good ride back, Dad. We talked a bit about our expectations for each other," Steve smiles at Aurie. "I think we've got a good understanding of how to go from here."
"And you Aurie?" Mark asks, noticing her discomfort at being put on the spot. "Are you comfortable with at least trying to build a life here with us? What can we do to make things easier for you?"
Mark studies her, patiently waiting for her while Steve remains silent. Choosing to let her answer.
"I don't know what can make things easier," she hesitantly replies. "Like I told Steve earlier, I don't know what to expect. I can't tell you what I expect to happen, but I know I've got to go along with it anyways. This situation is hard enough, so I'm going to at least try making it work."
"I'm glad you're willing to try," Mark smiles at her reassuringly. "And, you know, you could get ideas later on as to what you need or would like us to do to make your life better with us. You're welcome to share them with us when you're ready. There's no time limit on developing new expectations. Things will develop and evolve between the three of us, so we'll have to be good about communicating with each other."
"Absolutely," Steve agrees.
"Okay," Aurie quietly agrees with a nod.
"Oh, I also talked to Judge Dobrik about Miss Kurtz, your court advocate," Mark informs Aurie, who scowls at the mention of Flappy Lips. "What she did was inexcusable and I called Judge Dobrik. He's going to look into it. And I think he's going to apologize to you."
Looking down at the sand, Aurie shrugs.
"I don't think it's going to make a difference 'cause she's not stupid enough to leave that garbage on her phone. And she was looking at her phone in court. Seems really disrespectful, yet no one said sh..squat," she awkwardly corrects herself at Mark's arched brow as Steve looks on in amusement.
"That's a good point," Mark agrees, deciding not to comment on her close call. "I'm going to keep bugging Judge Dobrik about Miss Kurtz' behavior until he does something."
Aurie gives him a skeptical look but doesn't say anything. When the sun sits low on the horizon they start heading back to the house.
"What's on your agenda tomorrow?" Mark asks, looking between Aurie and Steve.
"Unpacking, I guess," she shrugs. Looking over at Steve, she adds, "Or enrolling in the local schools."
"We've got to figure that out, so that's a priority tomorrow," Steve replies.
"What's to figure out?" Mark looks at his son in confusion. "The Santa Monica-Malibu Unified School District is one of the best in the country."
"I was about to fail and will have to repeat my freshman year," Aurie reluctantly admits.
"That's not going to happen," Steve points out, drawing their attention to him. "You're not old enough to be in high school yet and the spotty schooling you've had over the past few years will probably mean you could end up in junior high school. Maybe even elementary school. Depends at what level they test you at."
"What the fuck?" Aurie stops dead in her tracks to gape at him in outrage.
"Aurie…" Mark warningly begins.
"Oh, right. Um, okay, sorry, but I can't…" She sputters in frustration before finally growling, "I don't want to end up in a class with a bunch of little kids!"
"It's likely not to happen at all," Steve states, amused at her reaction and the disapproving look his dad is giving her for swearing. "I'll call the school district in the morning and see what our options are. If they don't have anything available like tutoring that can bring you up to par with your age group, then we'll have to consider other options such as a charter school or private school."
"Good idea, son," Mark nods approvingly as they continue walking. "And you'll end up getting a lot of detention if you get caught swearing in school," he tells Aurie.
"That's nothing new," Aurie sourly agrees, still upset at the idea of getting tossed back in elementary school.
"Let's see what happens tomorrow," Steve reasons. "And whatever options we end up getting, we may even have to go visit the schools to see if you even like them."
Taking a calming breath, Aurie nods. Mark wraps an arm around her shoulders in a partial hug, smiling at her startled expression.
"I promise it's all going to work out better than you think. We're going to figure it out together."
"That we will," Steve chimes in as they cross the dunes.
"Now let's have some ice cream," Mark cheerfully suggests, his arm still encircling her shoulders. "How about it?"
"Sounds great," Aurie smiles back as they disappear inside the house.
The end…for now.
A/N: I wasn't waiting to post everything because I wanted to finish this story first, it just happened that way. This is the first part as I've got a lot more in mind. Although, I don't mind long chaptered stories, I find I tend to lose interest in them. So, I'm trying things this way to see how it works out. There will be sequels and crossovers because this story has really fired up in my brain. The next sequel will be coming out very soon. Thank you for reading.-Cha