Heartstrings

A gentle shaking of her shoulder, accompanied by a faint but persistent repetition of her name roused her to wakefulness. Grumbling, she turned over, pulled the covers over her head, and pleaded, "Just five more minutes . . . . . . . ."

 Laughing, he gently pulled on the covers as he said, "Five more minutes and we’ll both be late. Rampart awaits, Love."

 "Do I have to?" she mumbled. "I want to sleep . . . . . . . ."

 "Want me to tell Betty you’re sick?" he asked, giving her a kiss.

 Reluctantly, she rolled over and opened her eyes just enough to look at him in annoyance. "I’m coming," she answered dejectedly as she pushed the covers back and slowly sat up.

 And so the day began . . . . . . . .

Stopping by the nurses’ station on the way back to his office with some x-rays, he inquired, "Have time for lunch?"

 It had been a hectic morning, and the staff had been hard-pressed to keep up with the frantic pace. With the last of the patients finally tended to, she had just gotten around to the report she was supposed to have finished yesterday. "Not really, but I think I can squeeze in about fifteen minutes of sandwich time in the cafeteria," she answered as she worked feverishly to finish the paperwork that had dictated her entire schedule between patients for the last couple of days.

 "Great!" he exclaimed as she tossed him a quick smile. "I’ll be in my office whenever you’re ready." He returned the smile, but the report had already claimed her attention once more.

*****

The little boy had been playing in his yard when a drunk driver careened over the curb and ran over him. Now he lay, silent and still, on the treatment room table as Dr. Joe Early carefully examined him and studied the x-rays. It was clear he would need surgery, but the prompt treatment he had received from the paramedics had kept him alive. Assured that the child’s condition was stabilized, he now needed to talk to the parents.

 "Get a new set of vitals," he requested, and she immediately set about complying. "I’m going to talk with the parents; call upstairs and send him up to the pediatric intensive care unit."

 As she nodded her understanding, the doctor, knowing that she would take good care of this young patient, went to talk to the anxious parents. While he was calming their fears and explaining what course of action would follow, the patient was taken to pediatrics. As the child was moved, she mechanically set about preparing the treatment room for its next patient, thankful the shift was coming to an end. She was more tired, because of the baby, she supposed, than she cared to admit.

 The opening of the door caused her to look up from her task. They took him up to pediatric . . . . . . . ." she began as Joe came into the treatment room. A sudden, unexpected, mind-numbing pain struck, causing her to grab hold of the edge of the counter as she gasped.

 Quickly coming through the door, Joe headed toward her. "Dix?" he queried in concern.

 Her eyes, dulled and overflowing pools of unbearable pain, teemed with tears and begged him for help. As she realized what was happening, sad comprehension dawned in her deep blue gaze and she slowly crumpled to the floor.

 And there was absolutely nothing he could do except hold her and share her tears . . . . . . . .

Gently, Kell brushed his hand across her tear-streaked cheek as his own eyes brimmed with tears. She did not waken, and he tenderly brushed the loose strands of her long blonde hair back from her face. He heard the door open, but did not turn.

 "She’s not in any danger, and she’ll sleep at least until morning. You should think about getting some sleep yourself," said Joe quietly as he came through the door. Forlornly surveying the scene before him, he knew he would give anything to have had this day not come, to have had his earlier concerns be for naught. If only this chapter could somehow have been skipped and not become part of his friends’ life story . . . . . . . .

 Still holding tightly to her hand, just as he had been ever since he first came into her room, he sat on the edge of the chair. "I’ll just stay here . . . . . . . ." He reached out once more to softly stroke her cheek and, as he settled into his vigil, his voice faded into silence. Surrounded by sadness, Joe crossed the room to sympathetically place a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

********

In the weeks following, life returned to a semblance of normal and, to all appearances, Dixie seemed to be coping well. Kell, however, often caught a deep sadness filling her eyes at times when she thought no one would see, or when she could no longer keep it trapped inside, and his heart ached. There were still so many things that mere medicine could not fix and even love seemed hard-pressed to address . . . . . . . .

 "Dix," he called as he came down the hall in search of her, "how about . . . . . . . ." he continued as he came into the bedroom, stopping short as he caught sight of her tearfully packing away the book that Joe had given her that afternoon. . . . . . . . forever ago . . . . . . . . before . . . . . . . . He walked across the room to where she stood, put his arms around her and shared her lingering sadness with a gentle hug. He kissed her cheek, tasting the salty tears there, and softly inquired, "How about going for a drive with me? It’s such a beautiful day . . . . . ."

 With a conscious effort to push desolation aside, she placed the treasured book in the bottom of the cabinet with a sad sigh . . . . . . . . you don’t have to be a baby to cry . . . . . . . . firmly shut the door, and, turning her attention to the present, quietly said, "That sounds nice. Any particular place in mind?"

 They drove along the coast, stopping to walk in the soft white sand along the beach. The tang of the salt air was refreshing, and the gentle rhythm of the ocean waves rolling to the shore soothed her spirit. Their arms around each other’s waists, they spent the entire day just meandering together along the sandy shore at the water’s edge, and there was no need for words.

 The ocean breeze had reddened her cheeks and tousled her loose-hanging hair --- a vision of loveliness, Kell thought to himself. She seemed particularly preoccupied, however, as they drove along the route that led back toward home, and Kell fervently hoped that the measure of peacefulness she had found during their directionless wandering had not been lost. A sudden inspiration caused him to make an unexpected stop.

 Answering her questioning look, he casually said, "I’m starved. Must be all that ocean air!" She smiled wistfully, but offered no complaint, so he parked the car and they went inside.

 It was early for the dinner crowd, especially in the middle of the week, and so they were seated immediately. Dixie had hardly gotten the menu opened, however, before her thoughts were interrupted.

 "Dixie! How wonderful to see you!"

 "Hi," she answered quietly. "How’s that baby of yours?" Her voice was brooding and filled with a sad sort of longing.

 "Fine," he answered quizzically, not understanding the tone. Seeing a sadness deep in her eyes, he said nothing more.

 Kell jumped in to fill the silence and the conversation turned to the vagaries of the restaurant business. After a few minutes, he said, "It sure is great to see you again. I’ve got to get back, though." Speaking over his shoulder as he turned to go, he looked directly at Dixie and continued, "But you’re certainly welcome to come join me if you would like to . . . . . . . ."

 "That’s a great idea!" enthused Kell. "Why don’t you?" he cajoled with a soft smile aimed directly at his beloved wife.

 "We’ll see . . . . . . . ." she replied vaguely and, as she seemed inclined to leave it at that, he bid them farewell and returned to his place. She watched him as he left, unable to dismiss the enticing invitation from her thoughts and yet peculiarly unwilling succumb to the temptation to take him up on it.

 With a concerted effort, she turned her attention away from the invitation and studied the menu in silence without seeing it at all. Her sigh gave voice to the indecisiveness within her and, after a moment, she looked up from the menu, her deep blue eyes filled with a mixture of sadness, pain, and longing.

 "You seemed to enjoy it last time," Kell reminded her gently. "Maybe it’s not such a bad idea." Aware of just how torn she was, he opted to say nothing more, waiting to see which side would be victorious in this silent little war being waged within her. Soft strains filled the room and captured her. With a somber sigh that was part resignation, part longing, a sigh filled with indecision, she wandered over to stand next to the piano.

 "Any song in particular?" Dean asked softly, sliding over to make room for her to sit on the edge of the bench.

Dixie shook her head "no," replying, "Something melancholy," at the same time. Giving her a perplexed look, Dean acquiesced and with a regretful, sad smile, she began to sing:

Melancholy March

Wishing to break the mournful spell evoked by her sad singing, he followed up with a happier Manning / Marchetti tune:

It was fascination, I know

It was fascination, I know

As the growing dinner crowd murmured its pleasure, Dean deftly segued into a Johnny Burke / Jimmy Van Heusen film number that made her smile as she sang:

  Hide your heart from sight

Pleased with the happier frame of mind the songs seemed to have brought her to, and wanting to keep her there, he chose an upbeat, yet wistful, wishful sort of song that seemed to suit her present mood, and she sang softly and yearningly:

If I’m lucky, you will tell me that you care

Kell knew, with absolute and complete certainty, that music could touch a part of her buried so deep within that even he could not reach it. And he also knew that, given even half a chance, it would make a difference for her. As Dixie sang and the music wove its magic spell, he never took his eyes off her. With grateful satisfaction, he watched as the music held her tightly in its grasp and, refusing to let her go, slowly but surely began to mend the broken pieces of her heart.

 She laughed --- a sound he had not heard in much too long --- as Dean began another song, then came in right on cue with:

  Tall and tan and young and handsome

Dean, pleased to discover that her despondent mood had dissipated, played a variety of upbeat songs in an effort to keep her in this happier frame of mind. He had no clue as to the cause of her sadness, but he knew the music was helping to dispel her hurt. Unmindful of the time, he played tune after tune and she continued to sing until he guiltily realized that most of the evening had passed and the dinner crowd had definitely thinned out. "I think maybe we should call it a night, Dixie," he said. "How’s this for a last song of the evening?"

 As he began the tune, she realized he had chosen a song that just happened to be one of her many special favorites:

"I’m sorry. I guess the time just got away from me . . . . . . . ."

 Kell smiled as he reached out to lightly cover her mouth with his hand. "No apologies. I could listen to you sing forever."

 She smiled back, reveling in the pleased look she found in his eyes. Overwhelmed by her pain, she’d almost forgotten how much she loved him. Now, feeling totally enmeshed in his love, she knew at last she’d get through this and they’d be all right.

 Nestled in each other’s arms as they lay in bed, Dixie finally seemed to be more at peace, a fact for which Kell was deeply thankful. The stop at the restaurant had turned out to be a good idea, after all. Once she began to sing, he mused, she was so involved in the music that they almost missed dinner altogether! But Kell would have gladly missed a million meals if it would’ve helped her get out of the devastatingly sad and lonely place in which she’d been dwelling these past weeks.

 "Dix," he queried softly, "your singing is so special, and the music means so much to you, I don’t understand why you ever stopped . . . . . . . ."

 She was in a strange, pondering sort of reflective mood, partly from trying to work through the pain of losing the baby, partly from the memories triggered by his question. And, although she had never discussed it with anyone before, at this moment in time, as she lay snuggled in his arms, she truly felt almost safe enough to consider answering his question. She debated with herself, knowing full well what awaited her if she decided to walk down this path. Then, with a soft sigh, she concluded that she just might be able to explain it to him, after all. Perhaps it was actually possible to exorcise demons . . . . . . . .

 "I told you I used to sing at parties," she began softly.

 "Uh-huh," he murmured.

 "The parents of one of my friends in my nursing class had a small supper club near the school. We used to go there once in a while . . . . . . . ." she remembered.

 She fell silent, then, and Kell wondered why she should be lost in that memory. After a time, she hesitantly continued, "One night the guy who was supposed to sing called in sick at the last minute, and they were frantic trying to figure out what to do about the entertainment for the evening. They all knew I sang, and so they asked if I would mind singing there, without practice, just this one time . . . . . . . ." There was a strange and perplexing sort of catch in her voice that ultimately faded away as some mystifying memory took hold of her once more.

 After a time she continued, "It didn’t appear to be too difficult a thing to do --- they had a small group there that could play the kind of songs I always sang, so I agreed. It all seemed to go well and everyone acted as if they enjoyed the music. Her parents were pleased and kept thanking me over and over until I finally told them that I had to go. And then . . . . . . . ." There was that strange catch again, and she fell silent. For a time she lay mute, cuddled in his arms but caught by some memory she could not seem to express. At last she continued, her voice so low that Kell had to strain to catch her words.

 "I went backstage to get my coat and purse, and the drummer came over. I said something to him about his music being great to sing to as I gathered up my things. But when I turned to go, he was standing there, blocking the doorway, and when I asked him to please let me through . . . . . . . ."

 He felt her suddenly stiffen up as she continued recalling the memory --- a strange reaction, he thought --- and, without thinking, he pulled her closer as he hugged her more tightly.

 "He pushed me back against the wall, and I couldn’t get away from him . . . . . . . . and he . . . . . . . . grabbed at me . . . . . . . ." Even after all these years, this was a whole lot harder than she had expected it to be. Committed now to this telling, she grimly called up whatever reserves she could find within herself and continued. ". . . . . . . . he ripped my dress and . . . . . . . ." Hot tears spilled from her eyes as she lay in his arms and wept on his shoulder, reliving the still-frightening, long-ago memory, ". . . . . . . . right then the pianist . . . . . . . . came by . . . . . . . . and . . . . . . . . I was able to get out of there before . . . . . . . ." Numbly, he held her tightly, stroking her hair and rocking her gently as he tried to comfort her while she cried through the long-buried memory. Gradually, she gained some measure of control over her tears and she lay there, sadly silent but unwilling to move out of his comforting embrace.

 His heart ached with her pain. Holding her was his only lifeline in a waking nightmare he had unwittingly forced her to relive.

 "I never sang again until that day we were in the restaurant," she reflected, more to herself than to him. After a time, she added, "I thought I had lost the music forever . . . . . . . ." her quavering voice wistfully betraying the long-buried immense sadness behind that fear. He said nothing, tightening his arms around her and pulling her even closer to him, as if that could somehow protect her from the terrible pain this memory held.

 Angered beyond all reasoning that anyone could deliberately hurt his Dixie so much, he vehemently vowed, knowing full well it was an empty promise he could never keep --- and yet a promise he felt compelled to make --- that nothing would ever hurt her like that again. Without releasing her from his embrace, he shifted so he could look into her eyes. "I will never let any thing or any one hurt you or take the music away from you again," he solemnly pledged, his eyes full of tears.

 For a long time they lay in each other’s arms, crying for all the pain and hurt, crying for all they’d lost. Grateful for whatever fates had brought them together, they remained embraced, ultimately silent, comfortable, and safe. Finally, as dawn was breaking, the tears had washed away the pain and they slept.

********

Spring brought her favorite flowers into bloom, and she was delighted to find a pot of late-blooming daffodils on the breakfast table late one warm, sunny morning . . . . . . . . the golden dawn agrees as once more she sees daffodils . . . . . . . .

 "Have you been out already?" she asked, feeling a bit guilty for having slept in on this, her first day off in nine days. Lately, flu had decimated the staff, mandating overtime, and she felt really deprived, as sleep seemed to be in extra-short supply.

 "Just as far as the flower garden," he replied with that smile, the one that lit up his face, crinkled the corners of his eyes, and made her heart sing. "Sleep well?" he asked.

 "Uuuummm," she replied, sipping her coffee and returning the smile. I’m crazy about sleep, can’t do without sleep --- give me the simple life . . . . . . . .

 "Let’s see," he said, casually consulting the calendar on the side of the refrigerator. "We’re both off now until Tuesday, so that means . . . . . . . ." a momentary pause while he figured something out, "we have three and a half days off left."

She laughed.

 Looking hurt, he went on, "We ought to drive up the coast and spend a couple of days . . . . . . . ." Catching her surprised look out of the corner of his eye, he continued on as if he had not seen her expression. "We could check out the airshow at the naval station in Oxnard and, since we would be right in the neighborhood, we could pop in to say ‘Hi’ to Ted . . . . . . . ."

 "Do you mean it?" she asked, delighted at the prospect.

 Laughing, he asked, "How long will it take you to get ready?"

 "Five minutes," she replied, already on the way to pack.

 It was a perfect day for a drive up the coast, and, for once, Pacific Coast Highway did not at all resemble its customary parking-lot-slow-moving-traffic-jam self. They made good time, and, after checking out the airshow, headed toward Camarillo as the sun settled into the horizon of the early evening dusk. As they drove, Dixie tried unsuccessfully to shake off a nagging headache. With a sigh, she closed her eyes and leaned back in the seat.

 "Something wrong?" Kell asked.

 "Just a headache," she replied. "Probably from all the thundering jets and the airshow noise . . . . . . . ."

 "Bet you can get some aspirin here!" he told her a few minutes later as he deftly maneuvered the car into an empty parking space. Arm in arm they headed for the hospital entrance.

 "Dixie! Kell! What brings you this way?" Ted MacIntyre warmly greeted them as he came back to his office. "Come on in," he invited. "Can you stay around and join me for dinner?"

 Settling down, the three exchanged bits of the latest news and caught up on each other’s activities. Dixie, relaxed and quiet, was content just to listen to the two men as they fell into an animated discussion over something they had both read in the latest medical journal. Her thoughts wandered to the last time she had been here, when Ted MacIntyre had first come into their lives. Kell, seriously injured by a carjacker, had been brought to this hospital and Ted . . . . . . . .

 Her train of thought was interrupted as Kell, his voice full of concern, inquired, "Dix? Are you OK?"

 "Sorry," she apologized as she returned her attention to the conversation at hand. "I was just daydreaming . . . . . . . . I’m fine . . . . . . . ."

 "I was curious to know," Ted repeated to her, "how hard the flu hit your nursing staff down at Rampart. We’re really struggling here, just to give essential care. Almost three quarters of our nurses are out with it right now."

 "We aren’t really in much better shape," she ruefully replied, absently rubbing her temple in a futile attempt to banish the lingering headache. "I probably should have stayed home and gone in to work . . . . . . . ."

 "Still have a headache?" Kell asked. "Didn’t the aspirin help?"

 "It’ll be OK," she replied offhandedly. And, although she really did not feel too much like eating, she added, "Maybe some food will help . . . . . . . ."

 As they rose, Ted laughed and said, "That’s my cue! Let’s go over to . . . . . . . ."

 His restaurant suggestion was interrupted as, without warning, Dixie suddenly collapsed. Startled, Kell managed to reach her just before she hit the floor, and cradled her in his arms. "This is déjà vu," Ted thought absently as he knelt down beside her. "Haven’t we been here before?"

Not at all pleased with the turn of events, and concerned with her condition, Ted suggested they admit her to the hospital and run some tests to find out exactly what was going on. Kell, preoccupied with apprehension, absently concurred.

 Dixie opened her eyes slowly. Her headache was still forcefully making its presence known and, to make matters worse, she felt nauseous and miserable. Flu, her muddled brain told her. As her eyes focused, Kell’s worried face filled her field of vision and she tried to smile at him. "What happened?" she asked, not really listening to hear the answer. Instead, she made a concerted effort to concentrate on holding onto his hand.

 Ted, trying to make light of the situation and keep her calm, remarked, "If you’re going to do this every time you come to see me, I’m going to develop some sort of complex!" She smiled wanly as she turned her head to look at him. He returned the smile, but his eyes betrayed his concern as he honestly replied, "Your blood pressure was sky-high."

 "Why?"

 "We don’t know yet, but we’ll get it taken care of. You just rest now and let us do all the worrying. OK?"

 She smiled briefly at him and closed her eyes, silently cursing the flu bug. Annoyed that this bout of flu had to pick now to strike, she already felt just miserable enough to know that she definitely was not going to enjoy the next few days at all.

 "Any recent illnesses?" Ted asked mechanically, working on a patient history as they sat in the waiting room.

 "No," Kell answered distantly. Trying to shake off his concern, he concentrated on the task at hand, adding, " She had a miscarriage about . . . . . . . . oh, eight months ago . . . . . . . ." After a few moments, he absently added, "She probably works harder than she should, just like everyone else. But she really seemed to be doing OK . . . . . . . ." Ted noted the lingering sadness in his voice, making a mental note be sure to talk to Gene Fischer. "Otherwise, she’s been fine --- not even a cold." 

Finally, he made his last notation and returned the pen to his pocket, saying, "I think that’s all we need for now, Kell." He stood, stretching out the kinks in his protesting muscles. "Why don’t you go get a cup of coffee while I check on the tests?" he suggested. "I’ll let you know when she’s back in her room."

 Preoccupied with concern, Kell headed off in the direction of the cafeteria while the doctor went in search of his colleague.

Gene Fischer looked up from the patient file. "And what do you think?" he asked as he checked the last of the test results.

"Well, it’s definitely not flu," Ted reflected. "Her temperature is slightly elevated, though. But there’s just no good explanation for the blood pressure problem, and now . . . . . . . ."

 "How long has she been sick?"

 "Nothing noticeable until the headache she had this afternoon . . . . . . . no indication of earlier symptoms."

 Standing up, the doctor concluded the session with, "Let me see her, maybe run a couple of tests, and get back to you."

"Thanks, Gene, I really appreciate it," said Ted earnestly.

 "No problem. I’ll let you know as soon as I’ve seen her."

A desk full of work awaited him and the unexpected knock at the door startled him out of his reflections. "Yes?" he called out. At his response, the door opened and Gene stuck his head in. Seeing that Ted was alone, he came on in and perched on the edge of the desk. Indicating a sheaf of papers he held in his hand, he said, "Test results."

 "And?"

 "I would like to talk with the husband. Then I’ll schedule her for thorough exam."

 "Is it bad?"

 "No, but it definitely could end up being pretty complicated."

 Concerned, Ted set about arranging the requested meeting.

 "Sorry to be late," Gene apologized as he came through the door. "Emergency . . . . . . . ."

 Ted chuckled humorlessly. "We’ve both been there before!" Introducing the two men, he left Gene to direct the discussion.

"Doctor," he began, addressing Kell.

"Kell," he interrupted. "No doubletalk --- tell me about Dixie."

 "Sure, but I need to ask a couple of questions first," Gene replied, glad to be straightforward and to answer his questions as honestly as possible. "First, I would guess she has not had a hypertensive crisis like this before?"

 "No, and she’s never had a problem with high blood pressure before," Kell promptly replied. Then, unable to contain his concern a moment longer, he returned to his original thought. "What’s wrong with Dixie?"

 Ignoring the question, he continued, "I’d really like to see her medical records for the past year or so. Is that possible?"

 Kell answered with an affirmative nod of his head as he said, "I can get them here for you tomorrow."

 "Good, thanks." A brief pause, and he continued, saying, "My main concern at the moment is the high blood pressure. The headache seems to be part of the hypertensive crisis, but she also has a mildly elevated temperature, and we haven’t tracked down a cause for that as yet. Our first priority is to pinpoint the reason for the sudden high blood pressure. I’d say we are definitely talking about something more serious than the flu." Searching his papers for a particular test result, he pulled it to the top of the stack and, looking at Kell, he added, "Of course, if all this is directly related to her pregnancy, then we have real problems."

 Noticing Kell’s reaction, he added, "She probably doesn’t even realize it yet --- I’d estimate about six or seven weeks."

 Mixed emotions raged within Kell at the unexpected news. On the one hand, it seemed like a major miracle that they found themselves at this juncture once more. And yet, if Dixie’s medical problems were related to the pregnancy, then there was the very real possibility of her losing another baby, and he most assuredly did not want her to ever have to go through that particular agony again.

 Voicing Kell’s unspoken question, Ted asked, "Any signs of problems with pregnancy?"

 "No, but I haven’t done a complete exam yet." Turning back to Kell, he advised, "She should stay in the hospital until we have a clearer picture of exactly what’s going on." He paused for a moment, then added, "And you should also be prepared for the possibility of a long hospital stay for her before the baby’s even born . . . . . . . ."

 The doctor in him knew all these facts, but this was his Dixie, and he found his knowledge strangely jumbled up in a tangle of love, wishes, hopes, dreams, and errant fact. With no shred of objectivity, he wondered where this road would lead them. "Is Dixie in any danger?" he asked quietly.

 "I don’t think so --- not right now, at any rate. But things could change, as you well know . . . . . . . . and that’s another one of those things that concern me . . . . . . . ."

 "Are you suggesting she shouldn’t have this baby?" he asked, even though he knew the answer would be totally meaningless once Dixie voiced her views on that subject.

 "Not right now I’m not," he replied honestly. "Unless . . . . . . . ."

 "Unless what?"

 "Unless she doesn’t want to have the baby . . . . . . . ."

 "Not having the baby --- that definitely is an option that Dixie would never consider, not even for a single, solitary instant," he said vigorously. "And Dixie can be very . . . . . . . . tenacious."

 "Stubborn?" teased Ted gently.

 "That, too," answered Kell with a smile.

 "For the present, let’s schedule a complete exam and find out exactly what’s going on. Let’s not jump to any conclusions."

 Nodding in agreement, the three doctors concluded their discussion and Kell headed off to share the news with Dixie.

 "I’m sorry," she murmured as he came into the room.

 "Hi, yourself," he said softly. "What kind of way is that to say ‘hi’ to the guy who loves you?" he teased as he walked across the room and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "What are you sorry about?"

 "Messing up the trip," she replied dolefully. "If I had to have the flu, at least it could have waited until we got back," she concluded with a disconsolate sigh.

 "And how do you feel?" he asked, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking hold of her hands.

 "Rotten," she groaned as he gallantly kissed her hand.

 "But you definitely do not have the flu . . . . . . . ."

 "Says who?" she moaned, feeling like a truck had run over her.

 "Ted," he smiled gently at her.

 "OK, no flu . . . . . . . . I’m not sick at all," she retorted in abject wretchedness. "So why do I feel so awful?"

 "You felt awful because your blood pressure was too high," he said gently. "As for the rest of it . . . . . . . . I guess you’ll just have to get used to it for a while."

 Unappreciative of his comment, she promptly bestowed upon him one of her best withering, annoyed-Nurse-McCall-looks, a universally-feared look she generally reserved for anyone daring to shortchange or rush a patient’s care [a scathing sort of look for which she was quite well-known around Rampart].

 Ignoring the look, he softly continued, "They tell me it goes with the territory."

 Definitely not in a guessing-game mood, she was, nonetheless, sufficiently intrigued to absently mutter, "What territory?"

 "Having a baby territory," he answered tenderly, smiling at her.

 She made no reply, gave no indication of having heard, and apprehension began to assert itself.

 "Dix?" he queried softly.

 A sigh and a quiet, "Why am I sick? Does it have anything to do with the baby?"

 Straight to the heart of the matter, Kell observed without surprise as he answered honestly, saying, "As to why you are sick, Ted isn’t sure yet. But Dr. Fischer doesn’t see any problem with you having the baby."

 She digested this information quietly for a bit, then, "When?"

 "When what?"

 "The baby."

 "Thanksgiving," he replied softly, reflecting on the seemingly ironic appropriateness of the timing and his own feelings about it. Releasing his hold on her hand, he brushed his hand across her cheek and smiled at her.

 Absently returning the smile, Dixie found herself caught in a jumble of conflicting emotions. She felt like Alice lost in the weird world of Wonderland, so unreal did it all seem, almost as if the universe had chosen to play a practical joke on her. "Kell," she began just as he started to say, "I thought . . . . . . . ." causing her to smile and him to laugh softly.

 "Will it be OK this time?" Her plaintive look and the fear masked in her eyes cut through his heart like a knife.

 "Everything will be fine," he instantly responded, seeking to reassure her. "We’ll have a baby as beautiful as its mother."

 She smiled and, after a moment, asked, "You thought what?"

 "I thought you would be pleased with the news."

 "Pleased? . . . . . . . . Yes . . . . . . . . and surprised . . . . . . . . and apprehensive, and afraid, and . . . . . . . . ." A long pause, followed by, "I don’t want to lose our baby again . . . . . . . ." Unbidden tears welled up in her eyes.

 "Ssshhhh," he said, gathering her up in his arms and trying to calm her fears even as he felt his own tears muster in response to her heart-wrenching assertion. "You’ll see, Love --- it will be OK . . . . . . . ." After a moment, he added a quiet, "I love you."

 She finally gave way to the tears she’d struggled to contain ever since he’d told her they were having a baby. Smiling at him through her tears, she softly whispered, "Always and ever."

******

"Frankly, Joe, I’m really worried."

 Joe, who had gotten the requested medical records and come up as soon as Kell had called with the news about Dixie, reached out to put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. "I know, but Fischer is one of the top doctors in the field. She couldn’t be in better hands . . . . . . . ."

 "It’s not that. If she loses this baby, too . . . . . . . ."

 Anxious not to repeat mistakes of the past, Joe promptly squelched his own worries and instead said, "I’m sure that won’t happen."

 Kell rolled his eyes and gave Joe a sideways glance, but said nothing more. His medical training and his heart were at odds, and he could only hope and pray that this time the medical problems could be addressed, catastrophe avoided, and, in the end, hearts would win out.

Dixie seemed to improve steadily throughout the day, although her blood pressure still stubbornly stayed higher than they would have liked. Happy to see Joe, she gave the impression of maintaining a bright and optimistic outlook while inwardly she was prone to fretting over the possibilities, and her fear of losing this child, too, gnawed away at her shaky confidence.

 The next day, feeling much more like herself, and not at all happy to be cooped up in the hospital, she asked Gene Fischer, "How much longer will I have to stay here?"

 "What? You don’t like our company or something?" he joked.

 Smiling, she waited to see if a more serious answer would follow. It did.

 "We need to discuss that. As soon as Kell gets here . . . . . . . ."

 The opening door interrupted their conversation. Joe and Kell, having finished breakfast, came into the room.

 "Right on cue," the doctor remarked as the two doctors gave him a perplexed look.

 "Right on cue for what?" asked Kell as he walked over and sat on the edge of Dixie’s bed.

 "A decision," he replied.

 "About what?"

 Jumping right in with both feet and coming straight to the point, Gene replied, "Dixie staying in the hospital. She could go home now, but I don’t recommend it. She really ought to stay in the hospital until the baby is born. The only real question I see is whether she goes back down to Rampart or if she stays here."

 Upset by this unexpected turn of events, Dixie interrupted, "Why do I need to stay in the hospital? I want to go home!" Kell put his arm around her shoulders, hoping to keep her calm.

 "I suppose you could call it an overly-cautious reaction to your medical history and the problem we’ve had these past couple of days with your blood pressure. Right now, everything seems to be fine and you feel pretty good," Gene told her, adding, "morning sickness notwithstanding." This comment made him the recipient of a Nurse-McCall-glare and a sheepish smile, but Dixie made no verbal comment and he continued, "I would feel better if you were in the hospital just in case something were to happen to change that."

 Joe, quiet throughout this exchange, felt compelled to make a point with her and quietly asked, "Wouldn’t you feel more comfortable knowing that, if anything did happen, you were right there with a doctor immediately available? Wouldn’t that ease any qualms you might have?"

 "Are you expecting there to be problems?" she asked Gene quietly, making a mental note of Joe’s obvious concern.

 "No . . . . . . . ."

 "Then I won’t anticipate any problems, either," she resolved. "And, if there are no problems, then I would like to go home."

 "Dix . . . . . . . ." Kell began.

 "Don’t you want me to come home?"

 "Of course I do. You know I do. But Gene is the expert here, and we ought to listen to what he has to say, what he thinks."

 She knew he was right, but the prospect of several months in the hospital ---- any hospital --- as a patient was daunting. On the other hand, she would endure anything necessary for this child’s survival. Weighing her desires against what their baby needed left her with no doubts --- and absolutely no choice.

 Kell watched her face as she debated with herself, knowing full well how difficult this decision was for her. He knew, too, that her decision would ultimately hinge on whatever Gene told her the baby needed most.

 True to his expectations, she asked point blank, "Would the baby be at risk if I went home?"

 "I can’t say ‘yes’ or ‘no’ with absolute certainty, but, in my professional opinion, it would be better for the baby, and for you, if you stayed in the hospital."

 "Then the decision’s made, isn’t it? Whatever is best for the baby . . . . . . . ." Taking a minute to gather her thoughts, she turned to Kell and said, "I know it will be hard for you, but if I have to stay in the hospital, I want it to be here."

 "If that’s what you want," he said, surprised. Nonetheless, he respected her choice.

 "I’d feel better with Dr. Fischer around," she said simply. Then she surprised everyone by adding, "And I don’t want anyone at Rampart to know about this baby." After a brief pause, she softly added, "Then, if anything happens . . . . . . . ." Her eyes brimmed with tears at the prospect, but she blinked them away and, after a few moments, continued, "I know they all mean well, but I don’t think I could stand another round of everyone at the hospital, and all the paramedics, and everyone else coming by to say, ‘I’m so sorry’ . . . . . . . ." Her voice broke and Kell drew her into a hug. After a time, she concluded, "It would just be easier to handle that way. OK?"

 "Whatever you want," he told her.

*****

Decisions made, their lives settled into monotony as they journeyed through the ensuing months. Kell managed to arrange an extended leave of absence from the hospital for her without mentioning the baby, just as she had requested, and, with Joe’s help, he was able to schedule his own routine so that he would have several days off in a row that he could spend with Dixie. Sporadically, the routine would be broken by a new crisis of the moment, which they somehow weathered as they slowly moved closer and closer to welcoming their child into the world. Usually it was Dixie’s blood pressure that caused the upheaval, although there was an extended bout of what Dixie wretchedly referred to as morning, noon, and night sickness during which she found it virtually impossible to keep anything down, no matter what the hour.

 Once they passed that hurdle, however, they came smack up against the non-crisis crisis that was precipitated by a regular exam. Dixie was feeling out of sorts, uncomfortable, and grumpy, and Gene was making allowances for the mood swings that accompanied her hormonal changes. "Dixie," he said gently, trying to keep her calm. "I know this is difficult, but just give me two more minutes . . . . . . . ."

 "How many tests do you need? Is something wrong with the baby?"

 "Ssshhhh," he answered, preoccupied with his examination. But Dixie would not be shushed. "Tell me what’s wrong!" she demanded.

 "Nothing is wrong, Dixie," he answered curtly, "now shush." She promptly burst into tears.

 Shaking his head as he finished his examination, he left her to her weeping.

 "She’s OK?" Kell asked, rising as Gene, making a notation on the chart, came into the waiting room.

 The doctor just shook his head in bewilderment and sat down.

 "What’s wrong?" Kell demanded, panicked.

 "No, nothing. She seems to be having a particularly difficult day coping and I was short with her --- I told her to shush --- and now she’s crying . . . . . . . ." Gene said in exasperation.

 Kell, fully understanding the exasperation, shook his head as he smiled. "Let me guess --- she did not appreciate being told to shush!" he laughed. "Want me to go talk to her?"

 "If you think it will help . . . . . . . ."

 Kell left Gene sitting on the sofa, still shaking his head, and went off to comfort his emotionally touchy wife.

 Kell was balanced on the edge of the bed, talking to Dixie, who was laughing. "Do I need a white flag?" Gene teased, sticking his head in the door and fervently hoping Kell had managed to cajole her into a better frame of mind.

 To his immense relief, she smiled, "Of course not!" As he came into the room, she contritely said, "I’m sorry . . . . . . . ."

 Smiling at her, he said, "About what? The tears? Forget it --- they go with the territory." He came over to the foot of the bed as he added, "I really do need to talk to you, though."

 Thinking that sounded particularly ominous, Dixie grabbed hold of Kell’s hand, hoping against hope that this was not going to be bad news. Kell, recognizing her fears, moved to put his arm around her shoulders.

 "Now, don’t go getting all upset," Gene hastened to tell her. "No bad news . . . . . . . . I don’t think . . . . . ."

 "And just what does that mean?" Dixie asked fearfully.

 "Now, stop interrupting and let me tell you!" he admonished.

 Tears sprang to her eyes, and, although she remained silent, she squeezed Kell’s hand even harder.

 Realizing there was no easy was to do this, he took a deep breath and asked, "How would you feel about having twins?"

 While they both knew that the incidence of multiple births was somewhat higher in older mothers, it had never occurred to them that they might actually have more than one baby. Disbelief gave way to awe over the prospect of two babies, and Gene left them to digest the news by themselves.

*****

As the weeks crept by, and they passed the halfway-there mark, it began to look as if they just might make it, after all.

 The ringing of the telephone roused him. "H’llo," he mumbled sleepily. "Dr. Brackett." Suddenly he sat up, at once wide-awake and listening intently. "I’m on my way."

 He made one quick call, pulled on his jeans, and grabbed a shirt on his way out the door. In less than five minutes, he was on the road, worry etched in his face.

 Early morning traffic was light and he made good time. Still, the drive provided him with plenty of time in which to fret. He tried, with little success, to convince himself not to worry.

 "You must have broken every land speed record in the book," Gene remarked in surprise as he came through the door. He returned to making his chart notations as Kell came to the side of the bed and took hold of Dixie’s hand.

 Opening her eyes, she looked at him in surprise. "I thought you were working today," she said languidly. Her thoughts were foggy and after a moment, she asked, "What day is it?"

 "Tuesday," he told her softly, "and I missed you, so here I am."

 She smiled at that as she closed her eyes again and drifted off to sleep. He continued to hold onto her hand as he brushed his other hand through her soft blonde hair.

 "Kell," said Gene softly, "let’s go outside for a minute."

 The two men walked toward the waiting room sofa as Gene said, "The medication seems to be working at the moment. Her blood pressure has come down a bit, but it’s still too high." They reached the sofa and sat down.

 "What else?" asked Kell, unable to keep the fear out of his voice.

 "You know this is a high-risk pregnancy," Gene began, "because of Dixie’s age, because she’s carrying twins. Over the past couple of days, there seems to be a sudden build-up of amniotic fluid. You know hydramnios occurs sometimes in multiple pregnancies, but it’s usually gradual. It may not develop into a problem, but we’re monitoring it closely. There is some indication of edema, the hypertension continues to be troublesome, and I’d say we are definitely looking at preeclampsia. The blood pressure and the preeclampsia are the primary concerns right now. At the moment, the babies are not exhibiting any signs of distress, and we are treating this as aggressively as possible. But all of this is hard on Dixie --- and could easily become a very real problem for the babies."

 He paused a moment to give Kell a chance to breathe, then continued, "There’s a possibility, if we cannot control the blood pressure and edema, or if the fluid continues an excessive build-up, that we will need to consider inducing labor or doing a Cesarean section."

 Kell, looking rather shell-shocked, drew a deep breath and commented, "And you haven’t even mentioned the possibility of premature labor just because it’s a multiple pregnancy."

 "I know you know all this, Kell," Gene said gently. "We are going to do everything we can . . . . . . . ."

 "I know. Thank you."

 After that, there was nothing more to say. Kell sighed, a silent admission of understanding. His medical background provided all the knowledge that went along with the explanation of Dixie’s condition that Gene had offered, and he knew exactly how serious this situation was. He knew what complications could arise, and what risks existed. And not just for the babies, but for Dixie as well. And he knew he could lose them all in a heartbeat.

 "I’d hoped for thirty-two weeks, but at this point, I’m glad to take just what I’ve got now."

"The babies will be awfully small . . . . . . . ."

 "We’re considering transporting them down to Children’s rather than keeping them here. They have the latest equipment and the top specialists . . . . . . . ."

"Why not just move Dixie down there before they’re born?"

 "In her condition, I’d be afraid . . . . . . . ."

Kell tuned out the conversation between Gene Fischer and Joe Early, staring into his now-cold coffee as if he might find some miracle there. Dixie was just barely hanging on, and inducing labor had now become a distinct likelihood . . . . . . . .

 Absently, he put down the coffee and wandered over to the window. His thoughts were far away --- at least as far away as Dixie’s room down the hall. He decided he would just go sit next to her, and with that course of action determined, he anxiously headed off in that direction.

 Dixie was still sleeping, he noted with satisfaction as he quietly crossed the room and sat in the chair next to her bed. Gently he reached out, but did not touch her hand for fear of waking her. He felt as if he were in purgatory, knowing too much and being too afraid of the all-too-real possibilities.

*****

In the end, the babies made the decision on their own, making a grand but early entrance into the world in the first week of October. Promptly christened Kevin and Kelsie, they were, as planned, transported to Children’s Hospital by a special medical team. And by the time their mother was well enough to leave the hospital, they had stolen the hearts of every doctor and nurse who cared for them.

 "It’s so good to be home!" Dixie enthused, hardly able to keep from dancing for joy. They had been to Children’s to see the twins, who were continuing to do well, and she was delighting in the joy of being back in their own home. She wandered around, as if seeing the place for the first time, rediscovering things she’d missed during her long hospital stay.

 Kell watched her with some amusement, filled with the pleasure of simply watching her delight. "Come sit with me," he said after a time.

 She came over and snuggled up next to him, her head resting on his shoulder. "Does it all seem like a dream to you?" she whispered after a time.

 "Yeah, it does. But it’s a really good dream!"

 She smiled in agreement, adding, "And when we can bring the babies home . . . . . . . ." Definitely something they were both looking forward to with unbridled enthusiasm.

 *****

Dixie was glad to be back at Rampart, easily falling right into her long-established routine. But she still held back and said nothing to anyone there about the babies. Time enough for that once they were finally able to come home and it all actually became really real . . . . . . . .

 Their life quickly settled into predictability. Whoever was off would go over to Children’s to be with Kevin and Kelsie; if they both worked, they would go together after their shift was over. The twins continued to make steady progress and, as the months swiftly passed, it soon became just a matter of days before they were to finally be released from the hospital. At long last, Dixie and Kell would have their children at home with them, just like every other real family. It was an exquisite thought that filled them both with breathless anticipation.

 *****

 The tones sounded at Station 51, and they knew it was a big one. It had all the earmarks of being a bad call, Roy DeSoto noted with dismay. An explosion and fire in a hospital. That meant there could be lots of people injured . . . . . . . . or worse. As they raced off into the afternoon to answer the call, he ruefully observed that it promised to be a very long day.

 Buried in paperwork, Kell grumbled a careless, "Yes?" without bothering to pay any further attention to whoever was at the door. At least the patient load had been light today, freeing him to attack the mountain of paperwork that seemed to keep multiplying on his desk. He heard the door close and, as the silence remained unbroken, he repeated, "Yes?" without looking up. There was still no answer. Annoyed at both the interruption and the silence, he continued the paperwork as he issued a curt, "What is it?"

 The continued silence forced him to look up. Dixie stood there, silent tears running down her cheeks. Panicked, he jumped up, but her words stunned him, piercing his heart and freezing him in his tracks.

 "Children’s Hospital is on fire."

 After a moment, he figured out how to move, and as he reached her side, he pulled her into his arms. "What?" He was numb, feeling as if all the air had been suddenly knocked out of him. This was a totally unbelievable waking nightmare, a pure, gut-wrenching can’t-possibly-be-happening impossibility.

 "I just heard it on the news . . . . . . . . on the television in the break room. There was an explosion, and now the hospital is on fire." Her voice was a dull monotone, the fear in her blue eyes was absolute.

 Grabbing her hand and half-pulling her along with him, he headed for the door at a run.

It looked like a disaster scene out of a Hollywood movie. Smoke poured from the windows of the hospital’s pediatric critical care wing and flames shot through the roof. Fire hoses snaked along the ground, spraying water to combat the conflagration. Firefighters in turnout coats and helmets rushed to complete their assigned tasks, working feverishly to save the hospital from total destruction. Rescuers sifted through the debris seeking the injured, the trapped, and the perished.

 Dixie and Kell were able to move through the barriers with effortless ease since they had come straight from Rampart, Dixie in her nurse’s uniform and Kell still wearing his lab coat. Realizing they would not be able to get any news or search for their children any time soon, they headed for the makeshift triage area in the far parking garage to offer whatever assistance they could.

Already the area was packed with injured patients and hospital staff members. Their training took over as they readily fell into providing the treatment required to minister to the victims and they both pushed all their personal concerns aside.

 An undetermined amount of time passed. Darkness, falling steadily around them, was banished from the immediate area by a multitude of lights, but the grayness lingered, leaching into their souls. It seemed to Dixie as if they would never stop finding injured children. It was overwhelming and only her professional training kept her from succumbing to the lurking hopelessness she could feel in the air. The fire must have been yielding to the efforts of the firefighters, she noted absently, because most of the department’s paramedics were now assisting the triage doctors and nurses. She saw Johnny Gage splinting a broken leg just a few feet away and Craig Brice was helping establish an IV for a seriously injured member of the hospital staff. Roy DeSoto arrived just then, carrying a tiny child who couldn’t have been more than three years old. Would the stream of injured ever end?

"What’s going on?" Joe asked as he came into the break room for a cup of coffee. He had been in surgery for most of the afternoon and had not yet heard about the fire at Children’s Hospital.

 Still watching the reports on the television, Mike offhandedly replied, "There’s a bad fire over at Children’s."

 "Dear God, no!" Joe exclaimed.

 "Joe?" asked Mike as he turned toward the doctor, surprised at the vehemence of his reaction to the news of the fire. Seeing his ashen face, he turned his full attention to his colleague and worriedly asked, "Joe, what’s wrong?"

 Numbly, Joe sank down in the nearest chair. After a moment, he asked, "Where’s Kell?"

 Mike realized he had not seen Kell or Dixie for some time now. "I don’t know," he replied. "I haven’t seen him in while."

 Joe went to the phone and asked the operator to page Dr. Brackett and Nurse McCall. She did so, but neither answered their page, and Joe realized with dismay that they had to know about the fire. He presumed they had gone out to Children’s and he prayed that their little family had not been torn apart before it had ever really had the chance to be together.

 "Joe?" The news report forgotten, Mike put his hand on Joe’s shoulder as he asked, "Joe, Is there anything I can do?"

 Sadly, Joe shook his head as his eyes brimmed with tears. "Just say a prayer," he offered quietly, his thoughts with his friends.

 "For anything special?"

 Absently he said, "Kevin and Kelsie are in Children’s . . . . . . . ."

 "Who are Kevin and Kelsie?"

 "Dixie and Kell’s children."

 Thunderstruck, Mike turned to look once more at the report being broadcast over the television. Suddenly, the fire at Children’s had become a whole lot more personal than it had been just five short minutes ago.

"She’s beyond help," the young doctor pronounced brusquely as he gave a cursory examination to the child in the Roy’s arms. "Put her there," he said, indicating a deserted corner and turning away. As Dixie moved to assist, he dismissed her with a curt, "Forget it; you can’t help her." Roy moved off to put the child down in the designated place, but Dixie indicated he should let her have the little one instead.

 Dixie knew she could not simply walk away from this child, even if there was nothing to be done to save her life. Unmindful of anyone or anything except the child, she took her from Roy and, sinking down to the ground, she cradled her in her arms, gently stroking her cheek as she brushed back her hair. The child whimpered in pain, and Dixie did her best to ease her suffering. Knowing in her heart that she needed nothing as much as she needed to be loved, Dixie gently cuddled her in her arms and softly sang to her:

When at night I go to sleep

Before she reached the end of the soft little lullaby, she knew the child was gone. But, with tears streaming down her face, she finished the gentle song for her anyway and softly kissed her forehead. Hugging her close, she cried for her, for all the children hurt and killed in this tragedy, for all the suffering and pain that medicine, despite its best efforts, still could not erase.

 Her lullaby for the dying child had mesmerized those close enough to hear. Kell came over, but did not interrupt. As she sat crying, he moved to her side, kneeling down and gently touching her arm, but she would not release her hold on the child. "No," she said. I won’t leave her alone in some corner."

 "You don’t have to leave her," he told her gently. "We’ll take her where she needs to be."

 She nodded her agreement, and Kell helped her to her feet. He scrounged a blanket and assisted Dixie as she tenderly wrapped it around the tiny child. Then he put his arm around her shoulders and gently led her over to where the others who had perished had been brought.

 After a time, she gradually released her hold on the child, and she was taken from her arms. She watched through her tears and, satisfied that the child would not be abandoned here, she let Kell guide her back to the triage area.

It was far into the dawn of tomorrow before the stream of injured ceased and the fire was finally extinguished. The main hospital structure seemed to have more or less survived the inferno, but the entire pediatric wing was virtually destroyed. The firemen were mopping up and all the remaining injured had at last been cared for.

Dixie was exhausted, physically and emotionally. Kell, giving some last-minute instructions to an ambulance attendant, tossed her a wan smile as she tiredly sank to the ground and leaned against the wall.

 "It looks as if everything is pretty much cleaned up now," Roy commented as he wearily came up behind Kell. "We’ve been released, and I suppose you’ll be leaving now, too," he presumed.

 "What? Oh, Roy, good --- glad to hear it’s finally out," replied Kell absently.

 "Are you heading home now?" he asked conversationally.

 "No," Kell answered tiredly. "We’re waiting . . . . . . . ." Kell glanced over at Dixie, breaking off his comment as he saw Dr. Evanston approaching. "Excuse me . . . . . . . . ."

 Roy scrounged a cup of coffee from somewhere and brought it to over to Dixie. Accepting with a grateful smile, she remained leaning against the wall, too numbed to even speak. As her gaze perfunctorily wandered around the triage area, she spotted Kell talking with the head of pediatrics. With a start, she wondered if their conversation was about Kevin and Kelsie and she pushed herself up. Fervently praying there would be some good news, she headed in their direction.

 "I know I really shouldn’t have let it go on, but . . . . . . . ." Dr. Evanston was saying to Kell as Dixie came up. Kell silently put his arm around her shoulders as the beleaguered head of pediatrics interrupted the thought to greet her. "It really did seem harmless enough," he continued, "but now . . . . . . . ." A pause, then, "Of course, I take full responsibility . . . . . . . ."

 Dixie tried to sort out the conversation, but it made no sense to her. Noting her puzzled look, Kell explained, "Dick was saying that for the past week or so some of the nurses had been getting Kevin and Kelsie from pediatrics when they were on a break and taking them to the nurses’ lounge or to one of the break rooms. So now, no one has any idea of where they might be, or even if they were in pediatrics when . . . . . . . ."

 "Wasn’t the explosion in pediatrics?" Dixie asked, recalling a remark she had heard one of the firefighters make.

 "Yes," answered Dr. Evanston, his voice filled with hopeless despair.

 Trying to sort out the information, she haltingly theorized, "If the nurses took them out of pediatrics, then . . . . . . . ." she paused to consolidate the thoughts bouncing around in her head, then continued, ". . . . . . . .they might not have been in pediatrics at all . . . . . . . ." Her blue eyes sparkled with hope in the face of the possibility that her children might actually have been spared in this disaster and she looked expectantly at Dick Evanston, waiting for his reply.

 "Maybe," he hedged. Given the just-as-possible likelihood that they could well have still been in pediatrics, he was unwilling to give too much credence to her hope just yet. "I am checking the main hospital and the other wings, but we are pretty much in total chaos right now. I’ll let you know as soon as I can determine anything."

 With that, he turned and slowly walked away, shoulders bowed under the immense burden of the tragedy that had befallen them. And there was nothing either Dixie or Kell could say or do to ease his pain.

 Kell took hold of her hand, and together they headed back toward the triage area. John Gage had joined Roy; he wearily greeted them as they came up. They exchanged a few words before an exhausted Roy said, "Well, Junior, we’d better go."

 "Hey, thanks for everything, guys," Kell gratefully said to the two paramedics with a tired smile.

 "Sure, D . . . . . . . ." Johnny began, only to be interrupted as Dr. Evanston literally ran over to them. Breathless and at a total loss for words, he grabbed hold of Dixie’s free hand and began to forcefully pull her away.

 "What’s wrong, Dick?" queried Kell with concern as the two paramedics stood wondering what in the world was going on.

 Still breathless, he managed, "We . . . . . . . . found . . . . . . . . them!" as he continued to drag Dixie and Kell, who was still holding her hand, toward a small group of hospital staff.

In a flurry of excitement, Kevin and Kelsie managed to get transferred from the arms of the nurses holding them to their parents and everyone tried to speak at once. Dixie, holding Kelsie in a tight hug, heard nothing as she reveled in the feel of her child safely cuddled in her arms and tears rolled down her cheeks . . . . . . . . cuddle up a little closer, baby mine . . . . . . . . Kell, trying to manage a coherent conversation, was not faring much better. Finally, amid all the fuss and commotion, they managed a heartfelt, "Thank you," through their tears of joy.

They learned Sandy Myers had been the "culprit," picking up the twins as she headed down to the break room in post-op. They would be forever grateful to this wonderful nurse whose action had virtually ensured the survival of their children.

"Take them home, they’ll be fine," Dr. Evanston told them. "They were due to go home in a day or two anyway, right?"

Nodding, Dixie finally managed a hushed, "Thank you," as the doctor turned back toward the hospital with a tiny bit of spring now evident in his step.

Holding his son in one arm and putting the other around Dixie’s shoulders, Kell stood there breathing a prayer of thanks. Their little family had somehow made it through all of the crises, all the fears, and was now standing together, poised on the brink of tomorrow. Life laughing in the face of death . . . . . . . . wasn’t that really what the practice of medicine was all about?

 **********************************

Merrill / Schand

Herman Saunders / Dory Langdon

D. Manning / F. D. Marchetti

Johnny Burke / Jimmy Van Heusen

Josef Myrow / Edgar De Lange

Harry Ruby / Rube Bloom

Jobin / Gimbel

The Theme From A Summer Place

M. Discant / M. Steiner

From Hansel and Gretel

Engelbert Humperdinck / Adelheid Wette

Harbach / Haschna