Author's Note: So much going on here in Tennessee! Writing time has been hard to come by. I'll be traveling for the next couple of weeks, so probably won't get another chapter up before I get home. This is a longish chapter. I was really mean to Marco this time (and kind of mean to Mike again, but he doesn't know about it yet). I hope you enjoy it!
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July 12, 1977
All of Marco's muscles ached. He had spent the previous day clearing rubble. Some friends from the neighborhood had come to help, but still the work was hard. Lupita and Pepita had served everyone a feast for dinner. Marco had dozed off at the picnic table. Now he was in his tent, with Perro the cat snuggled close. Mama's pet liked to sleep curled up on his chest. Marco was exhausted. So why couldn't he sleep?
He had a cot now, which was more comfortable than sleeping on the ground. Moving carefully so as not to disturb the sleeping kitty, Marco picked up his flashlight and shone it on his watch. Two in the morning. He switched the light off. His fingers stroked Perro's soft fur. The cat purred in its sleep. At last, Marco felt himself starting to drift off.
Before he could sink fully into sleep, though, Perro sat up and yowled. Outside the tent, Marco heard a low murmur of voices. He came instantly awake. He grabbed his rifle and got up, moving silently the way he'd learned in the Marines.
Suddenly a shot rang out. A bullet whizzed into the tent, narrowly missing Perro and Marco. Musta seen where I was when I turned on the flashlight. Marco peered around the tent flap. In a matter of seconds, he had located his target. The intruder had his gun up, ready to fire again. That second shot never came. Marco fired first. The man dropped and lay motionless.
A shadow flitted towards the fence. Someone was fleeing the scene. Marco crept out of the tent and approached the fellow who had tried to kill him. He felt for a pulse. Nothing. The intruder was gone.
A few minutes later, Marco sat on the ground, trembling, Perro in his arms. He had killed before as a Marine sniper in Vietnam. Still, something about it felt wrong, even if it was in self defense. He was a fireman, or he had been. He valued life. He had been prepared for looters but hadn't really expected them. He hadn't meant to take a kill-shot, but his old sniper instincts had kicked in. Suddenly there were flashing lights, and a uniformed officer was bending over Marco and asking him what happened. A neighbor must have heard the shots and called the police. A paramedic squad and an ambulance had arrived as well.
Marco knew the officer. He'd worked with him before. "He tried to kill me, Mitch. You can see the bullet hole in my tent. He barely missed me. I looked out and he had the gun raised to fire again, so I shot him." Marco's heart was pounding, and he was breathing too fast.
Another officer turned the body over. "Hey, Mitch. He took out Billy Lark!"
Klein's eyes widened. "Billy Lark? He's killed at least three people since the quake!" He slapped Marco on the back. "You're lucky to be alive! Lark doesn't usually miss."
"I don't feel so lucky." Marco would have rather had Lark appear in court and receive a just punishment for his crimes. Now he was starting to get dizzy.
"Hey, are you OK?" Mitch shouted for one of the paramedics. "I think he's hyperventilating."
Devin Birch was on duty that night. He worked on 36's A-Shift. He had subbed over at 51's before, so Marco knew him pretty well. "Hold your breath, Marco. Just for ten to fifteen seconds."
Marco nodded. He caught in a breath and held it. After a couple rounds of holding his breath, he was still breathing too fast. Birch gave him a paper bag and told him to breathe into it. Marco held it over his mouth and nose.
The paper bag did the trick. Marco's breathing slowed down, but his heart was still racing.
Devin held up a penlight and peered closer at Marco. "Your neck is bleeding, buddy. I think he grazed you."
"Damn." Marco sighed. He hadn't even felt it. Now that he knew about it, though, his neck was starting to sting. While Birch applied a bandage and checked his vitals, Marco remembered some information he hadn't yet given Officer Klein. "There was another guy. I didn't get a good look at him, but Lark was talking to somebody, and I saw a shadow going toward the fence."
"Rampart wants you to come in," said Birch. "You're pale, your heart is racing, and you need stitches."
Marco shook his head. "I can't leave. The second guy might come back. He might hurt Perro."
"You're going," said Mitch. "I'll keep an eye on things. If the other guy comes back, I intend to be here. We've been trying to catch this pair for weeks."
This was the problem with knowing police officers. They figured they could boss you around. "Fine. I'll go," said Marco. "But I don't need a bus. Can't I just ride in the Squad with you?"
Birch shook his head. "Sorry. No can do. You aren't a firefighter anymore, so I've been told. It's a bus for you."
You aren't a firefighter anymore. That statement felt like a punch in the gut. Marco had defined himself by his job for years. Not a firefighter. Then what am I? He'd quit so he could help Mama recover, and he couldn't even do that now. He was stuck guarding the Lopez family property. This felt so wrong. I could go back. It won't be the same, but I could go back. It would make Mama happy.
"So, you've got a dog?" Mitch walked him over to the ambulance.
"No." Marco bent down and picked up the cat, who had been rubbing up against his leg. "This is Perro. He acts like a dog, so that's what Mama named him. He heard the intruders before I did. Scratch his tummy and he'll be your friend for life."
"Cool. I like cats." When they got to the ambulance, Mitch took Perro out of Marco's arms. "He'll be just fine with me."
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Dr. Brackett was on the night shift. He stitched up the graze wound on Marco's neck. Thankfully, by the time he'd arrived at Rampart, Marco's heart rate had slowed down. "So, Marco, I hear you quit the fire department."
Marco shrugged. "They wouldn't give me time off to help Mama. Besides, it wouldn't feel right without Chet for a partner." So why was he longing to go back, to ride the engine again? He sighed. "I miss it," he finally admitted.
"They'd take you back in a heartbeat," said Brackett. "They're overworked and understaffed right now."
"Maybe." Marco put a hand to the bandage that covered his stitches. He hated the feel of stitches. They already itched. "If I can test for engineer." He didn't want to be a lineman without Chet.
"How's your mother doing?"
Marco shrugged. "I've been busy guarding the house, so I haven't been able to visit her. Rosita says she's doing great. She's cooking up a storm. Her speech is pretty much back to normal, too."
"I'm glad to hear it." Bracket rattled off some instructions for him about taking care of his stitches. "Come back a week from today and if it's healing well, I'll remove them."
Nurse Chandler started cleaning up the room.
"Yeah, I know the drill." Marco jumped down from the exam table. "Hey, Doc. Is Chet still here?"
Brackett nodded. "Yes, but not for long. He'll be discharged in the morning. He's moving into Kitty's apartment, at the Regency by the Sea complex, I believe. Her roommate found another place."
"Great. I guess I'll go see him there. Can't really visit him now." Marco glanced at his watch. "Think I can get a taxi at four in the morning?"
Brackett chuckled. "Listen, I get off at five. If you can wait an hour, I'll be happy to give you a lift."
Marco yawned. "Thanks, Doc. That sounds great. If it's OK, I'll be napping in the nurse's lounge."
"I'll find you there."
Marco slipped out of the treatment room and headed for the lounge. He settled himself on the sofa and quickly drifted off to sleep.
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Kelly Brackett chuckled. He had tried to wake Marco up, to no avail. The man was out like a light. Well, Kel had some paperwork to do. He would give Marco another hour of sleep and then try again.
As he sat at his desk, he yawned. He didn't usually work the night shift, but Mike Morton was out sick, and Joe Early was visiting his brother in Montana. Thankfully, Doctors Garcia and Everson were taking over Emergency today so Kel could go home and get some rest.
He started his paperwork, but his eyes kept getting heavier and heavier. Before long, he was sound asleep with his head on his desk.
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Dixie found Kel sleeping with his head on his desk when she stepped into his office at seven in the morning. She had come in early, hoping she would see him before he left. She smiled. He almost looked like a little boy right now. "Hey," she said, bending over him. "You're going to have a sore neck." She gave his shoulder a light shake.
He sat up quickly, blinking his eyes. "Oh. Hi, Dix," he said drowsily. "Guess I fell asleep. What time is it?"
"It's seven. I don't go on shift till eight, so I'm going to drive you home. You shouldn't be driving if you're this tired."
Kel nodded. He grabbed his briefcase and got to his feet. Halfway to the door, he stopped and put a hand on her shoulder. "I almost forgot. Can you drive Marco too? He came in needing stitches about three in the morning. I promised I would drive him home when I got off shift. He's sleeping in the nurse's lounge."
"Sure. Let's go get him." Dixie looked up at Kel. Somehow, he had gone from adorable little boy to incredibly handsome man just in the act of standing up. The touch of his hand on her shoulder made her knees wobble.
He kissed her on the cheek. "Thanks for looking out for me, Dix."
Dixie's heart thumped. Sometimes she tried to forget it, but she still loved Kel. She suspected she always would. She wondered if he felt the same way about her. If that kiss meant anything, maybe he did.
In the nurse's lounge, Marco was shifting his position on the couch. When Dixie said his name, he opened his eyes. "Oh, hi, Dixie."
She noted his bandage. "Well, what happened to you, Marco?"
"Nearly got killed." Marco sat up and touched the bandage. "Guy shot at me and grazed my neck." He closed his mouth after that and stared at her with haunted eyes.
"I'm glad you're OK." Dixie ran a hand through his hair. He wasn't a paramedic, but he was still one of her boys.
"He isn't," Marco whispered. "He had his gun up, ready to shoot again. I shot him, Dix. I killed him. I didn't mean to kill him." Tears flooded his eyes and began to drip down his cheeks.
Dixie pulled him into a tight hug. How many soldiers had she seen with that haunted expression in Korea? "Marco, honey. You did what you had to do to stay safe. I know it feels rotten. I know you're hurting inside. But you're alive, and you stopped him from hurting anyone else."
Marco nodded, but his tears kept coming. He rested his head on her shoulder and wept. She just held him for several minutes, one hand cradling his head and the other rubbing his back.
At last, his tears were spent. "C'mon, Marco. Let's get you home." Kel and Dixie helped him to his feet. Dixie handed him a handkerchief from her purse. He dried his cheeks and blew his nose.
Dixie linked arms with Marco and led him out of the lounge. Kel walked on her other side. Once they were out in the parking lot, he put an arm around her shoulders.
From the backseat, Marco gave her directions to his house. Well, there was no house, just a tent. A police car was parked in front of the property. "Good. Mitch is still there. I wonder if he caught the second guy."
"The second guy?" This was new information.
"Yeah." Marco cleared his throat. "He ran after I fired. I didn't actually see him, but I saw his shadow. And I heard him and the first guy talking before everything happened."
Suddenly Dixie wasn't sure she should leave Marco at his house. What if the second guy came back? What if he was armed? "Are you sure about this, Marco?"
"Yeah, Dix." Some innate stubbornness hardened his tone. "I have to be here. My dad homesteaded the property. If no one is here, someone else could lay claim to it. Besides, I'm guessing the police will patrol the area more than usual after all this."
He got out of the car. "Thanks, Dixie. Thanks, Dr. Brackett." His gaze was a little less haunted. He wasn't just thanking them for the ride.
"Any time, Marco," said Kel. "Stay safe."
Dixie headed for Kel's apartment.
When they got there, before he got out of the car, Kel turned to face her. He rubbed a hand through her hair, then suddenly leaned over and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. "I love you, Dixie Anne McCall. I've never been very good at showing it, but I've always loved you."
He kissed her again, more deeply this time. She allowed it. Her heart was thudding dangerously fast. People talked about Johnny Gage and his charm, but Johnny couldn't compete with Kelly Brackett.
At last, he backed away. She caught his gaze in hers. "I love you too, Kel."
"Dinner tonight after your shift? I'm not on again until tomorrow morning." He looked at her longingly.
Dixie wished she could go up to his apartment with him, but she had to get to work. "Dinner tonight sounds good. I'm off at eight."
"I'll meet you at Rampart." Kel got out of the car, closed the door, and thumped his hand against the roof. Dixie watched in the mirror as she drove away. He stood there, watching her go, one hand raised to bid her farewell.
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Mitch came out of the tent, Perro in his arms, as Marco walked across the yard. "We caught Lark's partner. He tried to break into your neighbor's house and the dog got him. He's in the jail ward at Rampart now."
Relief swept through Marco. He could sleep without worry. "Let me guess, the O'Donnells' Belgian Malinois?"
"You got it. He's a good dog." Mitch chuckled. "Apparently, he flunked out of police training."
"Yeah, but he's protective of his family. I remember when he killed a rattler before it could bite their daughter." Maybe Marco should get a dog. Perro had alerted him to the intruders, but there wasn't much else a cat could do.
"You look wiped out. Go get some rest. I need to clock out and head home myself." Mitch clapped Marco on the shoulder. "You did good, pal. I'm glad you're OK. Oh, you should probably expect Mateo to pay you a visit this morning. Word's getting around the department."
"Thanks." Marco took Perro and headed back into his tent. Guilt still nagged at him, but he did feel better after talking with Dixie. He lay down on his cot, but his eyes kept going to the bullet hole just above it. The sight of that hole kept him from falling asleep. He kept reliving the experience, hearing the sound of Lark's gun over and over again.
I've gotta think about something else. Marco crossed himself. Please, God. Take these thoughts away. Suddenly, Mike popped into his mind. They'd almost lost him to a heart attack. Mike's house was still in ruins, and it would be a while before he'd be up to doing anything about it. Johnny had told him about the trouble with Mike's insurance.
"But we can take care of his house," Marco murmured. "We can clear the rubble and start to rebuild. I know dozens of guys who would help. We could even run a fundraiser to cover the cost. I'll bet Chet would help by calling people and organizing things. Pablo and Roberto would take turns filling in for me here so I could be part of it. They're coming anyway to work on this house." He grinned, then yawned. He was still bone tired. Within a matter of minutes, he was fast asleep.
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Chet sighed. He grabbed Kitty's hand. "It always takes forever to get discharged." He was dressed and ready to go. He just wanted to be home with his wife. He couldn't do much yet, but they could sit on the sofa and watch TV or maybe sit out on the deck. Chet's old apartment didn't have a deck, but Kitty's did, and she said it looked out over the ocean. He was glad they were going to live there. His lease was just about up, anyway, and now he wouldn't need to sign a new one.
He intended to exercise as much as he could so that they could walk down to the beach and have a picnic. Eventually, he would be well enough for them to go on a real honeymoon. He was thinking Hawaii. Kitty wanted to take him to Iowa to see the farm where she grew up. She also thought they should go to Europe. He would need to work a while to save up the money for a trip like that.
He wasn't looking forward to working in Dispatch, but he was willing to do it. It would make Kitty's parents happy because he would be taking good care of her. When he was home, he would work on his art. He already had some ideas for Marco's new restaurant. The first thing he wanted to do was paint a picture of Mama Lopez. He would have to ask Marco for a photograph of her.
At last Dixie came in with his discharge paperwork. "Hey, Chet. We're going to miss you around here." She handed him the papers with instructions for his care. "Now, you have an appointment with Dr. Brackett at ten in the morning one week from today. But if you start running a fever or if your pain gets worse, come in. There's no need to wait."
Chet nodded. "Yes'm."
Dixie turned to Kitty. "Now get him out of here. Take good care of him. And I don't want to see you back at work for two weeks. He should be OK to stay alone by then."
Kitty beamed. "Thanks, Dixie." She hugged the older nurse. "You've been wonderful."
Chet moved from his chair to the wheelchair Dixie had brought in with her. "OK, Nurse Needles, I'm ready to go." He chuckled.
Dixie groaned and swatted him gently on the head. "You cut that out, young man."
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Beth had called several of the Realtors mentioned in the letter from the insurance company. They were adamant about selling houses in a new subdivision, and only in that subdivision. It was in La Mirada. The houses were fancy, but they all looked exactly alike. Beth had seen pictures. The money insurance was offering wouldn't begin to cover the cost of moving there. Plus, the boys would have to change schools, and they were so excited to be in Mrs. Denison's class in September.
Today, Beth had a meeting with Barney. Under normal circumstances, they would have met at Barney's office, but there wasn't an elevator there and Beth couldn't exactly get her wheelchair up the stairs. Their meeting was taking place in the Stanleys' living room. Hank, Emily, JoAnne, and the Fraziers had taken the kids to the park so they would be out of the way.
Beth's friend Moira Charles had come over to help with the investigation. Moira was a licensed Realtor and a firefighter's wife. She took the phone off the hook, turned on the speaker, and dialed the number Beth had given her. "Hello," she said when Findel's secretary answered. "My name is Moira Charles. Could I please speak with the owner?"
"You're in luck, Ms. Charles. He's available. Just a moment and I'll transfer you." There was a click on the line and a couple of beeps, then it rang again.
The two men on the sofa leaned forward. One of them held a pen over a legal pad, prepared to take notes. The other pressed a button to record the conversation. They'd received a warrant allowing them to listen in on the call.
A man answered after the second ring. "Good afternoon. Ed Findel here. How may I help you?"
"Hello, Mr. Findel. I'm Moira Charles. I've been talking with Clark Rasmussen. We went through Realtor training together." That last bit was true. Moira had long ago warned Beth that Clark Rasmussen was a cheater and that anyone in need of a Realtor should steer clear of him. "I was wondering how I could get my name added to the list you are sending out to your clients. Clark said the perks of working with your company are quite good."
"Well, Ms. Charles, before we talk further, I'll need to confirm your license."
Moira rattled off her license number. Findel asked her to hold. Soon, they heard his voice again. "That license checks out. Ms. Charles, are you familiar with the Windermere subdivision they're building in La Mirada?"
"Oh, of course," Moira gushed. She rolled her eyes at Beth. They had talked about that subdivision and how awful it was, but it wouldn't do to tell Findel that. "Beautiful houses. I would love to live there one day."
Mr. Findel cleared his throat. "Well, my dear, we can make that possible for you. Every house you sell in that subdivision earns you an additional five thousand dollars over and above your percentage."
"Five thousand dollars? How do you manage that?"
Beth's eyes widened. Findel had to be making a lot of money on this scheme.
Mr. Findel chuckled. "We receive a substantial bonus from the developer when one of our clients purchases a house there, and we pass a portion of that bonus on to our Realtors. We have an application process if you wish to take part. You'll also need to sign a confidentiality agreement. You can pick up the paperwork at our office. Do you have the address?"
Beth eyed the men who were listening in. That confidentiality agreement wouldn't do Mr. Findel a bit of good.
"Clark gave me the address," said Moira. "Thank you, Mr. Findel. I'll stop by later today. Have a lovely afternoon."
"You too, Ms. Charles. I look forward to meeting you. Goodbye."
The line clicked. Beth looked at Barney and the District Attorney he'd invited to listen in on the conversation.
The DA sighed. "You were right, Barney. They're getting kickbacks."
"And cheating their clients out of funds for repairs and rebuilding." Barney passed the Stoker's home insurance policy and the letter that Mike had received to the DA. "It's all right here. The policy makes promises, and the letter reneges on those promises."
The DA opened his briefcase. "May I keep these, Mrs. Stoker?"
Beth nodded. "Of course. They're copies, so we won't need them back."
"Excellent." With a nod first to Barney and then to Beth, he said, "Thank you. And Mrs. Charles, thank you for your help. We've heard from a number of people who believe that Findel is up to something shady, but this is the first solid evidence we have. You'll hear from me soon."
"Thanks, Ken." Barney shook the DA's hand and showed him to the door. Then he went back to Beth in the living room. "Give Mike my best," he said. "I'd say this case is pretty much a slam dunk for us now. See you later, Mrs. Stoker. Mrs. Charles." He nodded, winked, and showed himself to the front door.
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A hand touched Marco's shoulder and shook it hard. He opened his eyes and found himself looking into Mateo's face. "I heard what happened. Are you really OK?"
With a long sigh, Marco nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine."
"You should be aware that several journalists are hoping to interview you."
"Damn." Marco frowned. "I don't want to talk to anyone about it. I just want to forget it ever happened." As if I could.
"I figured that." Mateo took his arm and moved him toward his cruiser. "Pablo is on the way over to keep an eye on things for you. Where would you like to go?"
"The Regency by the Sea apartments. I need to see Chet." He climbed in the back of the cruiser.
"OK. I'll drop you off there. Hopefully we'll get away before anyone sees you. This is a hot story for the six o'clock news, you know."
Marco sighed. "It shouldn't be." He had accepted that killing Lark was the right thing to do, but he still didn't want to talk with anyone about it.
Mateo dropped Marco off at the apartments. Apparently, they had escaped the journalists. There was a directory near the front doors. Marco found the listing for Chet and Kitty Kelly and headed up to apartment 317.
He knocked, but no one answered. Must be taking a while to get Chet discharged. He sat by the door and waited. Eventually, they would get there.
Soon, he heard the elevator door open. Chet was talking up a storm. He sounded excited and happy.
Marco got to his feet as they approached. "Hi. Sorry to bother you on your first day home, but I need your help with something, Chet." He eyed the door. "Can we go in the apartment?" As far as he knew, no one here knew him. But journalists out for a story could be brutal.
"What did you do to your neck, pal?" Chet's eyes narrowed. He wanted the full story.
Marco shook his head. "I needed stitches. That's all you need to know." Chet could wait to hear about it on the six o'clock news. Marco should have known Chet wouldn't give up that easily.
Chet frowned. "You want my help, you'll tell me everything. You want in the apartment, you'll tell me everything."
With a roll of his eyes, Marco threw up his hands. "Fine. But I'll tell you when we're inside."
Kitty was already unlocking the door. She gestured for the two men to go in.
"All right," Chet said as he and Marco sat on the sofa. "Spill it."
Marco told him the whole story.
Chet reacted like… well… like Chet. His eyes got big and his face got almost as red as his hair and he scowled. "You're sure they didn't see you come here?"
Marco shrugged. "Pretty sure."
From over by the window, Kitty shook her head. "I wouldn't be so sure about that. A KTLA van just pulled up to the building."
"Damn!" Marco wasn't sure what to do. He couldn't just butt in on Chet and Kitty's first day at home together. But he didn't want to go outside and get roped into giving an interview. "How the hell did they find me? I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come here."
Chet shrugged. "It's OK. Not like the doc has cleared me to do anything yet." His eyebrows twitched and he sighed. "So, what was it you needed my help with?"
Marco was glad for a distraction. He explained his idea to help rebuild Mike's house. "I know you're not able to help with the building part of it, but you could help organize it. We need a fundraiser to cover the costs and people to do the work."
Chet grinned. "It's a great idea. I'd be glad to help."
"Excellent."
"And now," said Chet, "I think you need to talk to the reporters. Give them an interview. Let them get it out of their system."
Marco sighed. About that time, the doorbell rang. "Fine."
Kitty answered the door. Outside stood a reporter with a cameraman. "Hi. We were told we might find Marco Lopez here."
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Roy eyed the pair of crutches his physical therapist had handed him. "I've broken my leg before. I don't anticipate crutches being a problem. Can't you just send me home?"
"Humor me, Mr. DeSoto," said Luke Kolbovsky. He looked way too young to be a PT, like some teenager who shouldn't even be out of high school. The wedding ring on his left hand suggested he was older, though.
Maybe I'm just getting old, Roy thought.
"Let me see you use them," Kolbovsky said. "As soon as I know you're steady, I can get the ball rolling on discharging you."
"Fine." Roy sighed. He leveraged himself into a standing position, realizing when the dizziness hit that he had moved too fast. He steadied himself on the crutches and the vertigo passed quickly. Roy hated the way crutches dug into his underarms, but he could live with it if it meant getting back to his family. He took one step and then another, eventually hobbling all the way to the end of the gym mat and back to Kolbovsky. "There, you see? I'm ready."
The therapist nodded. "Looking good, man. Now, show me how you do on the practice stairs."
Roy stood for a second at the base of the stairs. There were just three steps up, then three down on the other side. Up with the good, down with the bad, he reminded himself. He put both crutches under his left arm so he could hold the rail with his right hand. He stepped up with his good foot, then brought the crutch up. When he got to the top, he went down, leading with the crutch this time. Then he walked back over to his PT.
Kolbovsky was making notes in Roy's file. "Yeah, I think you're ready. You live in Carson, right? We'll put in a transfer to an outpatient rehab center closer to home."
Roy sighed. "We lost our house. JoAnne and I are going to look for a new place when I'm discharged. Right now, my family is staying with friends in Long Beach." He frowned. Going to Cap's tomorrow meant being in the same house with Julia Frazier. He didn't like it, but he could live with it — Jo and the kids needed him.
"All right," said Kolbovsky. "I'll start the paperwork on your discharge. Most likely it will be some time tomorrow."
A grin stretched across Roy's face. "Thank you!"
"You're the one who did all the hard work. It's about lunchtime. Are you eating in your room or the cafeteria?"
"My room. It's more comfortable." Roy could have used his wheelchair, but he liked being up on his feet again. "I'll walk back."
Kolbovsky nodded. "I'll walk with you. It's on the way to the cafeteria, after all."
The therapist accompanied Roy to his room, talking about the baby he and his wife were expecting around Christmas time. "I sure hope it's a boy," he said. "Gina and I already have a boy's name picked out: Thomas Luke."
"It's a good name." Roy suspected that the real reason Kolbovsky insisted on walking with him was to make sure he didn't fall. He had no intention of falling. He felt perfectly steady, even if his left leg hung heavy in its cast. Being up again and walking felt wonderful. Sometimes his leg ached, but he didn't mind. The pain was preferable to those days of feeling nothing.
As soon as the PT had left him at his room, Roy went to the phone. He dialed Cap's number. A child's voice answered. "Stanley residence. This is Evvy."
"Hi, Evvy. This is Uncle Roy. Is your Aunt Jo there?"
"Yeah. She's babysitting us. Just a minute!" Clunk. She must have dropped the phone on the counter. "Aunt Jo! Telephone! It's Uncle Roy!" She shouted the message at the top of her lungs.
Great. Now the whole neighborhood knows I called. Roy chuckled. Chris did the same thing all the time. At least Evvy didn't shout into the phone the way Chris often did.
Jo's voice came across the wires. "Hi, dearest and best. Are they letting you out soon?"
"Hopefully tomorrow, JoAnne mine. We can start looking at houses." They had decided it was better to move than to rebuild. They needed a larger house anyway. Jo said they should move into his mom's house, but Roy still didn't think he could handle that.
"Let's talk about it tomorrow, honey. I'll come early." In the background, Roy heard kids shouting. Jo moaned. "Chris and Megan are fighting again. I need to deal with it. I love you. See you tomorrow!"
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Once Mom and Dad got back, JoAnne left the kids with them for a while. They got on well with the Stanley and Stoker children, so it wasn't a problem for them to watch the whole crew. Besides, Doug was there to help out.
She drove around for a while. She had brought the house listings from the newspaper's classified section, and she wanted to drive past a few of them. The problem was, given the widespread damage from the quake, there weren't many houses available in good condition. Several of them were in bad areas of town where she would worry about letting the kids go out the front door or even to play in the backyard. A few others were in nice neighborhoods, but the asking price was much higher than they could manage. The sellers would probably laugh in their faces if they made an offer in their price range.
Mom and Dad had offered to help, and there was the potential of selling Mama DeSoto's house and adding the proceeds to their offer. Still, Jo didn't like the idea. Roy would hate taking money from Jo's parents. Besides, Mama's house was all paid off. It was in a good neighborhood near a good school. Mama had also told them about a special school only a few blocks away. It had an excellent reputation and would take D.J. when he was old enough to attend. JoAnne couldn't help but think that it was best that they move into Mama's house.
Her drive ended at Mama's. She pulled into the driveway. Johnny was sitting on the front porch with his puppy on a leash, feeding the little dog treats. Jo missed Roy's dog, Gus, who had died a few years ago. Roy hadn't had the heart to find a new dog yet. He needed one. Gus had helped him in a way Jo couldn't when the flashbacks to Nam hit. Sometimes Roy woke up with terrible nightmares. He wouldn't allow Jo to touch him then, but Gus had always brought him out of it.
Jo got out of the car and went to sit with Johnny. "Buck sure is sweet."
Johnny nodded. "Yeah. And smart, too. He's already learned a lot." He made a hand signal and Buck sat, then laid down. When Johnny swirled his finger in the air, Buck rolled over.
JoAnne laughed, then reached to pet the puppy. "Roy is getting discharged tomorrow. He wants to go house hunting." She handed him the house listings. "Here's what's available."
With a frown, Johnny read over the list. "There's nothing good here. Either too expensive or bad neighborhoods. There's room for you all here."
"I know." JoAnne had always thought of Mama's house as a refuge. That hadn't changed, even after Harriett's death. "Mama wanted us to have the house. Roy doesn't think he can handle living here. He misses her so much."
Johnny nodded. He was quiet for a moment, petting Buck. His brow wrinkled as if some idea were forming behind it. "I think I've got a way to make it work. Let's go inside."
JoAnne followed him through the door. Johnny released Buck from his leash, but the pup pranced along at his heels anyway. "What if you used the insurance money to make some changes to the house? You could change it around and it would be like a brand-new house." He pointed out some possibilities. "Look. Right now the dining room and living room are just one big room. You've told me you like having distinct spaces, so put a wall up there, or even half a wall with spindles." He led her into the kitchen. "You could put in new appliances and new floors. Weren't you asking Roy for a dishwasher last year? One could fit if you took out those cabinets next to the sink. And of course, I would be glad to help paint the walls or put up new wallpaper."
Together, the pair went upstairs. JoAnne found herself getting excited about the possibilities. Johnny led her to the large nursery at the end of the hall. It had been shared by Marta and her little sister, Megan, until Megan died in her sleep at six months old. Roy had only the vaguest memories of his youngest sister, but he had chosen her name for his daughter. Well, technically Megan was her middle name. Legally, she was Jennifer Megan DeSoto, but everyone called her Meggy.
"We could put a wall up and split this room in half," said Johnny. His eyes gleamed with excitement. "Then Chris and Meggy could each have their own room. Roy told me Chris really wanted his own space, but it just wasn't possible at your old house. D.J. can have Roy's old room. And the guest room is downstairs, so the two of you could stay there until Roy's leg is better."
"I like the idea." Jo walked over to the nursery window and looked outside. The window looked out over a pretty backyard. Roses were growing in the garden along the rock wall. Mama DeSoto had loved her roses. "I'm not sure what Roy will think, but it's worth talking to him about it."
Johnny laid a hand on JoAnne's shoulder. "We'll get him through this."
Jo hugged him. "Thank you, little brother."
Johnny laughed. "I'm six inches taller and you still call me little brother?"
Laughter felt good. JoAnne joined in. There'd been too little of this over the last several weeks. "You're younger. Doesn't matter how tall you are, little brother."
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When the phone rang, Emily Stanley answered. "Stanley residence."
"Hello, Mrs. Stanley. This is Barney Olsen. Could I please speak with Beth Stoker?"
"Sure." Emily put down the phone. Emily was at the kitchen table, cutting up potatoes for dinner. "Beth, you've got a call from Barney Olsen."
Beth put down the potato and the knife and wheeled her way over to the phone. "Thanks, Em." She took the receiver and put it to her ear. "Hello?"
Barney sighed heavily. "I've got good news, and I've got bad news. Let me give you the good news first."
"OK," said Beth, her voice rising in pitch. She closed her eyes. They didn't need any more bad news.
"There's a warrant out for Ed Findel's arrest. Apparently, in addition to everything else, he was misusing company funds. Bought himself a yacht, that sort of thing. Warrants have also been issued for the developer who has been paying him kickbacks. They arrested him, but Findel's gone missing."
"And the bad news?" Beth's stomach sank. She dreaded the next words to come across the phone line.
"The company has declared bankruptcy." Barney paused briefly. "I've read through your contract with them and find no insolvency clause. Apparently, they never filed for reinsurance protection in case of a situation like this. The likelihood that you will see a payment from them is minimal."
"Oh, no." Tears sprang to her eyes. How was she going to tell Mike? His anxiety would skyrocket if he knew about this. What would they do? They couldn't just go on living with the Stanleys. They needed a house. They wanted their house, in their old neighborhood. All they wanted to do was rebuild.
"I'm sorry, Beth. I hoped things would work out better. You don't need to worry about paying me. I already told Mike that wouldn't be a concern."
"Thank you for that. Goodbye, Barney." She handed Emily the phone.
"Beth, honey, what's wrong?" Emily hung up the receiver.
Beth spilled out everything, ending with, "I'm not supposed to let Mike get stressed out, but if he hears about this, he'll probably have another heart attack." Emily handed her a handkerchief and she wiped the tears from her cheeks. "I'm so sorry, Em. You need your house back."
Emily's face looked stern, but her hands were gentle as they took Beth's. "Listen to me, my friend. You and your family have a place here for as long as you need it." She chuckled. "At this point, I think Evvy would be devastated if you left. You know she's got a crush on Jake." She gave Beth a hug. "You and I will sit down with Hank tonight and talk this over. We're going to figure something out."
Beth nodded. "OK." She was grateful for the Stanleys. They were good, kind people who had opened their house to a multitude of guests without even thinking twice about it. "Thank you." She wheeled back over to her spot at the table and started work on the potatoes again. At least that was one way she could help out.
But Emily bent over her and put a hand on her shoulder. "You look beat. Why don't you go take a nap. I can finish this."
Beth stopped for a minute. She was wiped out. How could strong emotions be so exhausting? "OK." She squeezed Emily's hand. "You're too good to me."
"Hey, I know if our situations were reversed, you would do the same for us. Now go on. Have a good nap."
Beth wheeled herself to the guest room. She had gotten to be an expert at transferring from the chair to the bed. Soon she was lying down and drifting off to sleep.
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At six in the evening, Johnny turned on the television. He liked to know what was happening in L.A. and beyond, so he regularly watched the news. About halfway through the broadcast, the anchor said, "In local news today, the police search for criminal Billy Lark has come to a close with Lark's death. Reporter John Hastings caught up with former Marine sniper Marco Lopez to get the full story."
The picture cut from the anchor to Marco standing in front of an apartment building. He had a bandage on his neck.
"So, Mr. Lopez," said the reporter. "Can you tell us what happened?"
Marco told the story. Johnny's eyes widened as he listened. He had heard about Marco's service in the Marines, but didn't really associate that with the Marco he knew. To him, Marco was a gentle guy who wouldn't hurt a fly. His past as a sniper didn't really mesh with who he was now.
The interview ended and the picture went back to the anchor. "Police have determined that the shooting was justifiable self-defense. Meanwhile, Lark's partner, Jimmy Sylvester, was caught by a neighbor's dog as he attempted to break into their house. He has been hospitalized with severe bite wounds. He says he is planning to sue the dog's owners." She shook her head.
The other anchor let out an incredulous chuckle. "Some people. Now we move on to our weather forecast. Harry, tell us what we can expect."
"Hot, hot, and more hot," said Johnny as he switched off the TV. He had Chet's new phone number written down somewhere. He went to find it and then dialed the call. "Hey, Chet. Did you see the news just now?"
"Nah, but I heard the story from Marco. They interviewed him right in front of our apartment building. Apparently, some nurse at Rampart told them where they could find him."
"Wow. That's crazy."
"Yeah." Chet cleared his throat. "Listen, Marco and I were talking. We could use your help with something."
"Yeah, what?"
Chet laid out the plan for rebuilding Mike's house. "I called Cap before talking to you and found out that their insurance company has filed for bankruptcy and didn't have any insolvency plan. They probably won't get a dime. I know you can't do any of the work with your arm broken, but you could help me organize stuff. And we've got to plan a fundraiser. You could help with that, too."
"I'm in," said Johnny. He would do whatever he could to help.
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Johnny wasn't the only one who watched KTLA news that evening. Tipped off by Chet, the Stanleys and their guests had also gathered around the television to watch the news before dinner.
"I admire that young man." Jim Frazier already knew about Marco's plan to help Mike. He'd heard about it from Hank. After talking with Julia, he'd written a check. He intended to give it to Hank as a first donation to the effort. He didn't say anything about it now because he wasn't sure they wanted Beth to know about it yet.
"So do I." Hank Stanley sat up straight. "He went through all of that and, even so, his thoughts were for someone else." He turned to face Mike's wife. "Beth, this morning, after everything that happened, Marco was thinking about your family. He and Chet are organizing an effort to rebuild your house. Chet has spent much of the day calling people from the fire department. A construction company has offered to donate the lumber, and they are arranging a fundraiser to cover additional costs."
"Julia and I would like to be the first to donate." Jim pulled the check out of his pocket and passed it over. "We weren't sure who we should make it payable to, so just tell me and I'll add the name."
Hank's eyes got big. He handed the check to Beth. She looked at it and shook her head. "Twenty thousand dollars? We can't take that from you."
"Yes, you can." Jim knelt and took Beth's hands. He wanted her to know how much he appreciated her. "You and Mike have been good friends to Roy and JoAnne for years now. I suspect that Mike has been part of saving Roy's life more than once. Over the last few weeks, you've become like family to us. This money is from a return on an investment I made years ago. We won't miss it, and we'll be glad it's doing some good for people we care about."
"Are you sure?" Beth's voice trembled and her eyes were moist, but she was smiling.
Jim put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sure. Beth, JoAnne thinks of you as a sister. That means I get to think of you as another daughter."
Julia moved in next to him. "Beth, you have been nothing but kind to me from the moment I arrived, in spite of my reputation. I appreciate that. I'm thankful for the kindness I've seen you show everyone in this house. You are a wonderful example to me of what it means to live out your faith. However we can help your family, we want to do it."
"But what about Roy and Jo?" Beth held the check lightly, almost as if she were ready to give it back if she had to.
Julia took her hand. "They got their insurance payout already. If they need anything, we have enough to help them too. They're going to be all right. You need this more than they do."
Sitting on the sofa next to Emily, JoAnne nodded. She put an arm around her friend. "You can't say no. Besides, it will help relieve Mike's stress." She chuckled and her eyes danced. Jim got the idea that there was some private joke between the two women.
"All right, then. Thank you." Beth's voice was stronger now. Her eyes shone with gratitude.
"They've already opened a bank account for the donations," said Hank. "You can make the check out to the Stoker House Rebuilding Fund."
Jim grinned. "All right then. I'll just take it back for a minute to add that." He pulled a pen out of his shirt pocket and added the notation, then handed the check to Hank. "You'll give it to Chet?"
"I will. Thank you, Jim. Julia." Hank folded the check and put it in his wallet. "I can't wait to see Mike's face when he finds out about all this."
