Lifesongs

. . . together we’re going a long, long way. . . But right at this moment, all the tiredness of the past grueling hours weighed down upon her and, despite the joy in her heart as she reveled in the feel and the sound of the softly gurgling child firmly nestled in her arms, her aching muscles rebelled. Numbly she sank to the ground right where she stood.

 "If I sit down," he said teasingly as he carefully stooped down next to her, "I promise you I won’t get up for at least a week!"

 Laughing, she looked into his eyes and found her joy mirrored there. "OK, as soon as I figure out how to get up . . . . . . . ."

 "Need a hand?" Roy DeSoto asked her quietly as he and his partner, John Gage, came over to stand above her.

 Nodding her assent, she accepted the offer of assistance and, with the help of the two paramedics, in short order found herself back on her feet once more. She smiled at them and then turned her attention to the child cuddled in her arms.

 "She’s beautiful," Roy offered quietly, hoping the pink blanket in which the baby was enveloped really meant "she".

 Dixie fairly beamed as she said, "This is Kelsie," and, pointing to the child now sleeping on Kell’s shoulder, added, "and Kevin."

 Johnny, for once at a total loss for words, finally managed an awestruck, "Wow!" that caused Dixie to smile and Kell to laugh softly. In spite of everything, the world had somehow become, at this particular moment, a pretty spectacular place.

 The small group slowly worked its way across the grass, their idle chatter filling the air and relieving pent-up tensions. The tragedy was still too close, and, for Dixie and Kell, the pain engendered by the terror-filled prospect of losing their children in the fire was still too fresh to be dismissed. Suddenly Dixie stopped in her tracks, utter panic in her eyes and a stunned look on her face as stark realization dawned.

 "What’s wrong?" Kell demanded, worry echoed in his voice.

 With an I-don’t-quite-believe-this shake of her head and a self-deprecating smile, she said, "Do you realize we are all going home --- babies included --- and we don’t have a single bottle, no diapers . . . . . . . . no crib . . . . . . . . no nothing."

 Obviously, the practicalities of unexpectedly taking the twins home had not occurred to Kell either until that instant, and, after a moment of silence, he tried to banish his bone-weary tiredness as he sighed in acknowledgment and said, "Well, I guess we had better plan a shopping stop on our way home." A pause, and then, "Can you buy cribs already put together?"

 "Aaahhmmm, exactly when were you expecting to have them home?" Roy queried. "If you don’t mind my asking . . . . . . . ."

 "It’s my fault," Dixie explained. "I didn’t want to get anything until it was sure . . . . . . . ." Her comment trailed off, and after a few moments, she added, "They were supposed to come home Monday, so I figured we’d shop tomorrow . . . . . . . ."

 Concerned that Dixie was needlessly putting blame on herself, Kell hastened to say, "It’s no big deal, Dix. We can handle it."

 "Well," suggested Roy, "why don’t you just get enough of the essential stuff to hold you through today, go home and get some rest, and then shop tomorrow, exactly like you planned?"

 A good plan, considering their mind-numbing exhaustion; with that, the two paramedics headed for the squad and Station 51 while the Brackett family set off for home, via the corner store.

 "Dr. Early, line one; Dr. Early, telephone, line one," came the page, startling him out of his reverie. Apathetically, he picked up the phone.

 "Dr. Early," he mouthed into the receiver, startling as he heard the sound of a baby happily gurgling in the background at the other end of the line.

 "Joe, it’s Kell." Then, all in a rush, without pausing to catch his breath or to let Joe get a word in edgewise, "There was a fire at Children’s, but Kevin and Kelsie are both fine . . . . . . . ."

 Relief flooding his soul, Joe silently listened to Kell rattle on as he breathed a prayer of thanks. Suddenly realizing there was no sound from the other end of the line, he asked, "Where are you? Is Dixie with you? And what about the twins?"

 "We’re all home. Come on by."

 Dixie’s voice popped into the conversation as she leaned over Kell’s shoulder to speak into the phone, "We have two babies here that you can play godfather to . . . . . . . ."

 He heard her ecstatically voice the words and didn’t miss the unmistakable smile behind them. "I’d love to," he said, "if you’re sure you. . . . . . . ."

 "Please come," Kell requested quietly.

 "I’ll be there in fifteen minutes," Joe answered. As he hung up the phone, his tiredness vanished and, with a grin on his face and tears in his eyes, he turned to leave.

Mike, coming out of the treatment room, almost ran into him. Stopping just long enough to tell Mike that the children were safe, and were now home with Dixie and Kell, he headed for the door.

  *****

"We could make it work!" Johnny cajoled, his tiredness evaporating in the wake of his excitement. "Just think what a terrific surprise it would be!"

 "But, John . . . . . . . ." interrupted Chet Kelly.

 "Chet, it’s a perfect plan --- absolutely foolproof!" Johnny grumbled, annoyed. "No way anything could go wrong."

 "Suppose they . . . . . . . ."

 "I’ve already got that covered, so quit complaining," Johnny interrupted.

 As he leaned against the edge of the counter drinking coffee and listening to Johnny expound, Captain Stanley had to admit that the idea actually sounded pretty good. Even Chet couldn’t come up with a good reason for it not to work, and so he finally said, "If you think you can make it work, let’s do it!"

 "Great! I’ll call the hospital." And with that, another great John Gage plan moved more or less smoothly into motion.

 "All you have to do, Doc," Johnny was saying into the phone, "is keep them all right there. Don’t let them go out anywhere. That shouldn’t be too hard, should it? Can you do that? Will you?" Out of breath, he paused and listened for the answer.

 "I’ll figure out a way to do it," he laughed, delighted. "It’s a wonderful idea, Johnny!"

 Satisfied, Johnny hung up the phone and headed out to the squad to make sure Roy was ready. Yes, this certainly was going to turn out just great, he thought to himself as he patted himself on the back for having once again masterminded the perfect, absolutely foolproof plan.

*****

The gentle sound intruded, slowly bringing him to wakefulness. With a start, he realized he should have been up long ago, and he tossed back the covers, pulled on some clothes, and headed for the living room. He stopped abruptly in the doorway, enthralled. A smile of pure joy played across his face and tears welled up in his eyes as he mutely watched her.

 She was casually dressed in a pair of jeans and a sweater; her golden hair hung soft and loose around her shoulders, framing her face. Totally engrossed, she was singing a gentle and quiet little lullaby, softly crooning . . . . . . . . Hill and vale in slumber sleeping, I my loving vigil keeping, All through the night . . . . . . . . as she tenderly rocked their children to sleep.

 It was a picture he would etch in his mind and savor forever.

 After a time, he came over to the side of the chair and softly admonished, "You should have gotten me up."

 Her deep blue eyes shone with consummate happiness as she smiled up at him, a picture of absolute, perfect contentment. "You needed to sleep." After a moment, she playfully added, "You can get up when they cry at three in the morning!"

He laughed, leaned over to give her a kiss, and then took their daughter from her arms and put her down to sleep. He came back a moment later for the second child, carefully placing him with his sister on a blanket they had spread on the floor in the room that would be the nursery.

 He returned to find her in the kitchen, pouring coffee for both of them. "I guess crib shopping is at the top of the list for today?" he inquired, taking the proffered mug from her hand.

 "Along with bottles, diapers, blankets, clothes . . . . . . . ."

 She laughed as he held his hands up in mock surrender, saying, "OK, I get the picture!" The ringing doorbell interrupted them.

 "Hi!" Joe greeted him brightly as Kell opened the door. He held a large shopping bag in his arms.

 "Hi, Joe, come on in. What in the world have you got there?"

 "Just a little something for my godchildren," Joe said, coming in the door. "Oh, and your newspaper was in the driveway."

 With a bewildered laugh, Kell took the paper as he said, "Well, whatever it is, I’m sure they don’t already have it!"

 The three friends settled down in the living room, happily chatting. After a bit, Dixie went to check on the children, leaving Joe and Kell to their hospital talk. In a few minutes she was back, one wide-awake baby in her arms, and, after a moment, she handed the child to Joe. Kell appreciatively watched Joe cuddle their son, once again finding himself grateful for the very special friend that Joe Early was.

 His reflection was interrupted as Dixie returned with the other baby, asking, "Do you want to hold her or do you want to fix a bottle?"

 Kell opted for holding his daughter. Dixie, busy in the kitchen, asked, "Are you rested enough now to tackle the store crowds? You know, we just can’t leave these babies sleeping on the floor forever!" Amused, she came back into the room and laughingly added, "Right now, I would guess that we definitely are not in the running for parents of the year!"

 Noting with satisfaction that both of the babies seemed perfectly content, Dixie thoughts drifted to the lack of cribs. After a moment she commented, as much to herself as to Joe, "Today was supposed to be our shopping day. When the plan was for Kevin and Kelsie to come home on Monday, it would have worked out just fine, and we would have been all ready." She let the comment drop as she sat down next to Kell on the sofa, and then, in quiet retrospection, added, "I guess maybe I didn’t need to worry quite so much about losing them and I shouldn’t have been so utterly unreasonable about not getting anything for them ahead of time . . . . . . . ."

 Kell shifted the now-sleeping Kelsie on his lap and pulled Dixie over in a hug, wanting to distract her from thinking about her earlier fears of losing the babies. He knew that those fears were responsible for creating her reluctance to prepare for the babies before they were actually able to come home.

 Caught in the mood, she absently remarked, "Who knew there’d be a fire in the hospital and we would end up getting to bring them home early?"

 Her mention of the fire sobered the conversation for a moment as they all reflected on the terrible tragedy. The explosion and fire that had devastated Children’s pediatric wing was still too real, too close, and had caused way too much heartache. Joe broke the mood by handing her the bag and suggested she take a look inside.

 With a pensive smile, she looked, discovering an abundance of baby stuff --- none of which they had and all of which they needed --- tucked inside. Tears marshaled in her eyes as she thanked Joe with a hug. "How did you know just what to get?"

 "That was the easy part," Joe laughed. "I just went over to that baby store by the hospital and told the lady there I wanted two of whatever a five-and-a-half month old baby would need . . . . . . . . one set for a girl, one set for a boy! No problem at all." [And, Joe reflected to himself, it gave them enough "stuff" that their running out to the store to shop could be postponed until Johnny had managed to get his plan in motion.] The explanation earned him a laugh from both Dixie and Kell --- a sound that it seemed to Joe had been woefully absent from their lives for most of the recent past. Yes, it certainly was shaping up to be a very good day indeed.

 His musings were interrupted as Dixie refilled his coffee mug and retrieved a tired Kevin from his arms. Settling down in the rocking chair and snuggling with her child, she was instantly oblivious to everything around her as she softly sang him to sleep. Kell, absently patting his daughter on the back as she slept on his shoulder, watched with a wistful smile and Joe reflected on just how heartachingly difficult it had been for his friends to reach this place. Sometimes the road to where you think you’d like to be ends up being an uphill climb the entire way, he solemnly observed, a smile playing in the corners of his mouth as he happily watched Dixie and Kell with their children.

 The ringing of the doorbell startled the two men; Dixie, still crooning a lullaby to Kevin, remained oblivious. Kell, careful not to wake Kelsie, went to answer the door while Joe fervently hoped this was the fulfillment of Johnny’s master plan.

 It was.

 Kell opened the door to find Johnny and Roy, accompanied by Mike Morton, standing there and looking like the proverbial cats that had just swallowed four and twenty hapless canaries. Surprised, he greeted them and stepped back from the doorway, inviting them in.

 Greetings were exchanged all around; Dixie, having sung her son to sleep, joining in welcoming the visitors. After they had all offered the appropriate oohs and aahs over the babies, Kell, still mystified, asked, "What brings all of you here? Not that we mind, you understand, but . . . . . . . ."

 "Well," said Mike, "we heard a rumor that you and Dixie had these babies . . . . . . . ."

 ". . . . . . . . and that you just might . . . . . . . . aah . . . . . . . . need a few little things for them . . . . . . . ." Roy added.

 Puzzled, Kell looked from one speaker to the next as a dazed Dixie tried to fathom exactly what was happening. She looked at Joe and queried, "You knew about this . . . . . . . .?"

 Joe chuckled, and Kell turned to him, "You have something to do with this? And, by the way, what exactly is this, anyway?"

 Shaking his head, Joe laughingly replied, "I was just supposed to keep you at home!"

 Kell looked at Dixie, understanding dawning for both of them in the same instant, and they said in unison, "Johnny!"

"Doc, Dixie," Johnny began, flustered, "it’s like this. We sort of, well, I . . . . . . . . we just wanted to help out . . . . . . . . and so we got you some stuff . . . . . . . . for the babies . . . . . . . . All the guys at the station . . . . . . . . and at the hospital . . . . . . . ."

 The explanation more or less complete, they busied themselves bringing in the things they had brought for the babies.

 Neither Dixie nor Kell quite knew where to begin to thank them. They even understood her reluctance to tell them about the babies until they were actually home . . . . . . . . faithful friends simply glad to share their happiness. They felt truly blessed.

 Overcome and shaking her head in disbelief, Dixie found her eyes filling with tears as she reflected on how very lucky they were to have such wonderful friends. Hearing the hullabaloo accompanying the crib assembly in the nursery, she absently observed with no small amount of gratitude that they wouldn’t have to put the twins to sleep on a blanket on the floor again.

*****

 "Do you know how very fortunate we are?" Dixie softly asked Kell, shifting a bit and settling her head on his shoulder. The sleeping babies were tucked in their cribs and their guests had gone, leaving them to enjoy a quiet moment to themselves.

 "Amazing, isn’t it? Can you believe Johnny masterminded such a plan and arranged everything just like that?!"

 The telephone interrupted their reflections.

 "Dr. Brackett," he said. He listened a moment, then responded with a surprised, "What?" After listening a few moments, he quietly replied, "I’ll take a look; thanks." With that, he absently replaced the receiver, puzzlement reflected in his dark eyes.

 "What was that all about?" Dixie asked, unable to keep the concern out of her voice. "Is something wrong?"

 "Just a second, Love," he said, searching for something. After a minute or two, he found the newspaper Joe had handed him that morning and removed the string that held it rolled up.

 Dixie came up to look over his shoulder. "Oh, no," she softly sighed, tears filling her eyes as Kell put his arm around her.

 . . . . . . . . I believed in everything like a child of three . . . . . . . . Numbly she turned away as Kell dropped the paper and focused on comforting her. "How did the paper get a picture? Don’t they have to have permission to print it or something?" Unable to contain her tears any longer, she sobbed on his shoulder. "How could they do that?"

 Kell wasn’t quite sure why she was so upset over the publishing of the picture; nevertheless, he tried to comfort her. After a while she resolutely declared, "I don’t want it in the paper."

 "Dixie, I know you’re upset. But nothing can change it now."

 She sadly shook her head in dejected resignation, extremely upset over the picture of her cuddling the dying little girl being printed in the newspaper. "But it was just for her . . . . . . . ."

"Dixie, even if the picture were to be printed in every newspaper everywhere in the world, they still could not take away from her what you gave her," he told her softly. "When she needed someone the most, you were right there to give her just what was called for, and more. You gave her love, comfort, compassion . . . . . . . . the very things she needed the most. Nothing will ever be able to change that, my love."

 "I hope it helped her," she whispered softly. "But it was not something meant for the whole world to share --- it absolutely should not be plastered on the front page of the newspaper. It was private, just for her alone . . . . . . . . just for Cynthia."

 "I know." He hugged her gently, knowing there was no way to change what had happened, but hoping she could find a bit of perspective about it. He searched his memory, but could not recall a photographer in the triage area. However, there had been so many people moving in and out, and they had all been so busy it would have been easy to miss seeing one lone cameraman. Still, Dixie was so upset by it that he wished he could somehow go back in time and stop the photographer.

 "It’s all settled and taken care of," she happily reported as she poured him a cup of coffee the next morning. "I talked to Rita and there’s room for Kevin and Kelsie in the baby group at the Child Care Center at the hospital, so the problem is solved!"

 He looked at her in amazement. "When did you arrange all that?"

 "While you were in the shower," she laughed, deftly flipping the omelet and dishing up hash-browned potatoes. Grabbing the English muffin from the toaster, she added, "No big deal."

 "Incredible!"

 "What?" she demurely asked, the picture of pure innocence. "The hot breakfast or the arrangements for the twins?"

 Laughing, he leaned over to kiss her and promptly forgot about the meal. After a minute, she sat back, smiled, and softly said, "Your eggs are getting cold. Eat your breakfast."

 Finishing her coffee and toast, she set about getting the babies ready for the day . . . . . . . . I’ve got the routine . . . . . . . . Taking the babies with them to Rampart was certainly going to make their often-hectic schedules easier to manage and save a lot of headaches for both of them.

 Despite a flurry of oohs and aahs and fussing over the twins as they arrived at the hospital, they somehow got the babies settled in the Child Care Center without too much difficulty and headed down to Emergency.

 It was actually tranquil in Emergency, with Joe and Mike caring for the only two patients they had. All of the treatment rooms were set up and ready. Calm . . . . . . . . quiet . . . . . . . . every indication was that they were in for a rare uncomplicated day. If they had only known . .. . . .

 Patients attended to, everything remained, for the moment, peaceful. The shift change was uneventfully smooth, the base station was quiet for once, and the treatment rooms were ready to receive their patients. Dixie actually had all the paperwork caught up for a change, and, appreciative of the unexpected lull, she set about restocking the treatment room supply cabinets --- hardly a glamorous task, but certainly a necessary one. Any time they could avoid having to run to main supply during an emergency . . . . . . . .

 As she came into the treatment room to complete the supply inventory, Mike Morton cheerfully said, "Good morning, Dixie," adding, "I saw your picture in the paper yesterday . . . . . . . ."

 Giving him a petulant look, she groused, "If I’d had anything to say about it, it wouldn’t have been there at all!" She continued grumbling, adding, "No one asked for my permission to use it."

 Surprised at the intensity of her reaction, Mike placatingly offered, "It was really very nice . . . . . . . ."

 "It shouldn’t have been printed at all," she angrily interrupted. Turning away, she sadly murmured, more to herself than to him, "It was just for her, just for Cynthia . . . . . . . ."

 Finally understanding that Dixie felt the picture intruded on something private, meant only for the little girl, Mike offered a simple, "I’m sorry." After that, the matter was dropped as Dixie took her list and headed off to gather up the needed supplies.

 Kell was in his office, addressing the massive pile of paperwork that kept proliferating on his desk while Joe and Mike were in treatment room one with a young boy who’d tumbled down a flight of stairs, and Dixie was in Emergency’s main supply room.

 It came, as always, sudden and unexpected, catching everyone by surprise, unaware and off guard. The tumultuous shaking lasted for an eternity of about a half a minute or so. The power hiccoughed, lights blinked, alarms rang, and unsecured equipment fell to the floor. In the supply room, the shelves not mounted to the wall teetered precariously.

 And then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. As they began moving into the hallways, people offered silent prayers of thanks for having once again made it through another dreaded California ground-shaking. The staff, hoping against hope that the aftermath wouldn’t be too severe, prepared for the inevitable blitz of patients. Concerned, Kell moved through the hallways assuring himself everyone was all right and that they’d be geared up for the anticipated onslaught.

 Dixie, pinned between the wall and the toppled supply room shelf, gritted her teeth and made a quick evaluation of her situation. Her shoulder hurt and she was having some difficulty catching her breath. Assessing her injuries, she decided it was probably a sprained or dislocated shoulder and perhaps a few bruised ribs. Knowing full well that Emergency would soon be swamped, she painfully set about working to extricate herself.

The epicenter of the earthquake was out in the desert, and, so far, there had been no reports of major structural failure or devastating destruction. Thankful for that, they nevertheless knew that everyone would be kept jumping for the rest of this now-hectic day and calmly set about their work as the first of many ambulances arrived. Dixie, having freed herself from a tangle of supplies and escaped the crushing grasp of the supply shelf, concluded she could manage for awhile. Opting to help first and get help later, she calmly moved into the hall.

The tones sounded in Station 51, as in every other station in the county, and the department rolled out all of its men and its equipment in answer to the call.

 Thankful that none of the injuries thus far seemed to be life-threatening, Dixie breathed a silent prayer of relief that she had been able to cope with taking care of all of the patients that had come her way, despite her own injuries. Mostly she had been handling minor complaints or soothing jangled nerves resulting from earthquake fears --- and, she admitted to herself as she carefully took a blood pressure reading, earthquakes definitely jangled her own nerves a bit as well.

 Sending the patient up to x-ray, she noted with some satisfaction that everyone around her seemed to be managing quite well and her nursing staff was quickly and effectively functioning to meet patient needs. In fact, the entire Emergency crew had coped valiantly in this crisis. It looked as if they were going to make it through the aftermath without too much difficulty. Turning her attention to her own problems, she admitted she was beginning to feel decidedly dreadful and determined that it was probably time for her to get some help. Decision made, she resolutely set out to find Joe Early.

 The wail of a siren announced the impending arrival of yet another ambulance at the emergency entrance and she halted for a moment, interrupting her search. A youngster who had been trapped under a tree felled by the earthquake was brought in. Quickly examining the child as the gurney was wheeled into treatment room four, Kell knew instantly that this one was going to be bad. Looking up, his eyes found Dixie and he asked her to please come help.

 Hurriedly looking around, Dixie found Marge and immediately sent her to the treatment room to assist with the youngster. As she followed the doctor into the treatment room, Kell threw Dixie a puzzled, questioning look. But there was no time then to discuss the matter, and Kell turned away, focused only on giving his full attention to the badly injured child waiting inside.

 Despite their best efforts, this was one they were not to win.

 After a time, Kell quietly said, "Thanks, Marge." Then, "Damn."

 Nodding in acknowledgement of his distress, she turned to leave. Not at all a good loser, Kell felt his anger building as he wondered why Dixie had failed to assist as requested. Losing the youngster hit him hard and, as his anger rose, he resolutely determined he’d have an explanation from the head nurse.

No one had seen her recently, and she was not at the nurses’ station. He had her paged, but she did not answer. Glancing at his watch, he was startled to discover that it was much later than he had realized, and he knew that she had probably picked up the twins from the Child Care Center and gone home. He called the house, but there was no answer and, annoyed, he left a curt message for her to call him at the hospital as soon as she came in.

 "Dr. Brackett, line two; Dr. Brackett, telephone, line two," came the voice, startling him from his contemplation. Guessing it was Dixie, he answered gruffly, anger seeping into his voice.

 It was Rita, wondering if the twins were going to spend the night in the Center. It would be no problem, she said, it was just that she needed to know . . . . . . . .

 Surprised, Kell somehow managed to stumble through an explanation that they had all been swamped in Emergency because of the earthquake, but that he was on his way to pick up the twins right now. Hanging up the phone, he sighed in exasperation and headed up to the Center.

By the time he got the babies home, fed, and tucked into their cribs, his anger was a raging storm within him. He paced as he waited for her to arrive, anger intensifying with each passing minute. Dawn found him getting the twins ready to head back to the hospital, his fury just barely controlled as he bitterly acknowledged that Dixie apparently had chosen not only to abdicate her nursing responsibilities but also to abandon her children as well.

Once he had finally deposited the babies, along with all their necessary paraphernalia, with Rita in the Child Care Center and reached his office, he was a black storm of seething anger. He found Joe Early waiting for him.

 "What’s the problem?" he growled as he came in.

 "Having a bad day already?" Joe asked quietly.

 "Do you have a problem, Doctor?"

 "I need to talk to you."

 "Talk."

 "Look, Kell, I know you were angry with Dix . . . . . . . ." Joe began.

 "Angry?!" he exploded. "She has a lot to explain! Refusing to assist and then she doesn’t even come . . . . . . . ."

 "But, Kell," Joe interrupted.

 Slamming his fist down on the desk, he raged, "There’s no possible explanation, absolutely no excuse . . . . . . . ."

 "Kell, she . . . . . . . ."

 His voice betrayed the just barely controlled fury within him. "Joe," he warned in a low, deliberate tone, "do not interfere."

 Knowing he had pushed as far as he dared for the moment, Joe said nothing more. Instead, he tossed the patient chart he’d held in his hands onto the desk, turned, and walked out of the office, sort of slamming the door behind him.

 Secure in the understanding that had been built up over the course of this venerable friendship, Joe was not particularly upset by the exchange. Standing outside the door, he idly reflected that he probably knew Kell even better than his friend knew himself. Despite a predilection to occasionally losing his temper, Kell generally behaved rather predictably. And so Joe knew that it wouldn’t be too long . . . . . . . .

 It wasn’t.

"JOE!"

 Kelly Brackett fairly burst through the office door and almost ran smack into Joe. "What is this?" he demanded, waving the patient chart. "What’s going on?"

 "Ready to listen now?" Joe asked quietly.

 He stopped dead in his tracks and, without uttering another word, dropped his arms as he despondently walked back into the office. Joe followed, closing the door behind him.

 "I don’t know everything," Joe began, "but I’ll tell . . . . . . . ."

 "Never mind," Kell interrupted quietly.

 Surprised, Joe was speechless for a moment.

 "It doesn’t matter anyway," Kell went on in a subdued voice. "I’m going to . . . . . . . . do you know where?"

 "419."

 His expression unreadable, Kell silently dropped the chart onto the desk and walked out of the office. After a moment, Joe picked up the chart and followed him.

He hesitated at the door, unsure as to whether or not he should even go in. At last he decided he needed to see this through and quietly opened the door. He walked across the room to stand beside the bed. After a moment, he gently took hold of her hand and carefully brushed the stray strands of hair back from her face. She moaned softly and opened her eyes.

 She looked at him and her eyes brimmed with tears. Feeling guilty, she began, "I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to . . . . . . . ."

 "Ssshhhh," he said, moving his hand from her hair to gently cover her mouth. "Ssshhhh."

 "What happened?" he whispered as he made a quick medical assessment. The pain he found glazing over her usually-sparkling deep blue eyes cut through him to pierce his soul.

 Sighing softly, she tried to gather her thoughts and explain. "I was in the supply room when the earthquake hit," she began. "The shelf fell over on me. I knew my shoulder was hurt, and I probably had some bruised ribs, but . . . . . . . ." She paused, enduring the painful breathing resulting from her fractured ribs.

 Kell took the opportunity to softly inquire, "Why didn’t you say something, get some help right away?"

 "I knew it would be bedlam in Emergency, and you would need all the help you could get," she whispered.

 Smiling ruefully, he gently admonished her with a soft, "We could have managed. You should have said something." He silently cursed himself for not even noticing that she was hurt.

 "I figured it was a sprain or a dislocated shoulder," she murmured, and, at worst, maybe some cracked ribs. I knew I could handle that for a while." As an afterthought she noted, "I missed the concussion, though . . . . . . . ."

 "None of which should have been ignored, even for a minute," he reminded her gently. He’d read enough of the chart to know that she had, in addition to the contusions, a dislocated shoulder, a mild concussion, and three fractured ribs. He silently accepted just how much damage a falling supply shelf could do clobbering someone in the midst of an earthquake.

 She sighed, "I was doing fine until you needed help with the boy." Tears spilled from her eyes as she added, " I knew I wasn’t . . . . . . . . I’m so sorry." He reached over to brush her tears away as she added, "Marge is good, and I th- . . . . . . . ."

"Marge did just fine," he interrupted. "But you are not going to be doing too much nursing for a little while."

"It just wasn’t the time or the place to go into all of it with you, and, anyway, the boy needed you immediately . . . . . . . ."

He sat holding onto her hand and absently brushing her cheek for a moment, then softly asked, "Is that it?"

 "Pretty much. Mike said Joe was up in x-ray, which seemed like the right place for me to go, and I headed on up there. After that, I really don’t know what happened . . . . . . . ."

He sat there, holding her hand, lost in his own murky thoughts. Agonized, he finally released her hand, walked over to the window and gazed out, unseeing.

 "Kell?" she inquired, mystified.

 He did not, could not, look at her. "I am so sorry," he whispered with a mournful sigh that came from deep within.

 Not understanding, she asked, "Sorry for what?"

 He drew a deep breath but said nothing. Appalled that he could actually have thought for even an instant that she would have purposely neglected either her patients or her children, he admonished himself harshly. Bitterly, he asked himself why in the world didn’t he think about all of this in the first place instead of being so intolerably, irrationally furious with her?

 His silence frightened her. "What happened, Kell?" she asked; then, as her mind imagined the most awful things possible, her fears grew. "Did something happen to Kevin or Kelsie?"

 "What? No, no, they’re both fine," he absently reassured her.

 He avoided looking at her, and, after a time he said, "We lost the child. We never really had a chance . . . . . . . ." His voice low and filled with anguish, he continued, "I was so angry with you . . . . . . . ."

 Sadness pooled in her eyes as she gently pleaded, "Don’t do this to yourself," but he wouldn’t look at her. He offered no further response, shaking his head in resignation instead. Mired in guilt, he was a prisoner, unable to liberate himself.

 The silence was a thick barrier between them and it frustrated her. "Kell," she said softly as tears gathered in her eyes.

 ". . . . . . . . and then when you didn’t get the twins, either," he suddenly continued, still caught in his guilt, " . . . . . . . . and you didn’t come home . . . . . . . . and you didn’t call . . . . . . . . I just got angrier and angrier at you." He paused and, unwilling to excuse his thoughts, harshly criticized himself with, "I never even thought . . . . . . . . I was too stupid to even consider the possibility that something had happened to you or that something just might have been wrong . . . . . . . ."

 Stunned by the depths of his self-deprecation, she shook her head in absolute amazement. "Mistakes, getting angry --- they don’t matter." After a pause to catch her breath and stop her tears, she asked, "Are you the only person who ever got angry, or misjudged something, or made a mistake about anything?" Struggling to find the right words, she finally asked, "How can you be so . . . . . . . . so . . . . . . . . so . . . . . . . . dense? Can’t you see, Kell? None of that matters. The important thing is loving someone, being there for them . . . . . . . ."

 "That’s exactly the point, Dixie," he dejectedly interrupted. "I wasn’t there for you when I should have been. I let you down," he sadly acknowledged, overwhelmed by his guilt.

"So you say. But I don’t feel let down. Doesn’t that matter?" she forlornly asked . . . . . . . . I only live to love you more each day . . . . . . . . He did not respond and she was determined that she would somehow shatter this strange culpability he had embraced . . . . . . . . my life will be in your keeping, waking, sleeping, laughing, weeping . . . . . . . . and she acknowledged, "Even though this is all my fault?"

 Astonished, he shook his head "no," unwilling to assign her his own blame and equally unable to comprehend that she could actually believe she had any fault in this.

 "Dixie," he sighed, "it’s not you. It’s me. I was the one who just . . . . . . . ."

 "No," she said stubbornly. "If I . . . . . . . ." Pausing to collect her thoughts, she abandoned the thought and irately demanded, "Kelly Brackett, how can you be such a wonderful doctor and be so insufferably stupid at the same time? You think you let me down because you got angry? No, Doctor, I let you down --- really let you down --- because I didn’t tell you I was hurt and I couldn’t do my job the way you needed me to. You think you weren’t there for me, but I wasn’t there for you. It goes both ways, Kell. If you’re to blame, then so am I."

 She stopped a second, then, "It’s not important that you were angry with me." After a brief pause she softly added, "No matter what, I will always love you." She made no effort to stop the tears now cascading down her cheeks. "Can’t you just forget about being angry? Isn’t it enough that I love you?" . . . . . . . . my arms won’t free you, my heart won’t try . . . . . . . .

 Remaining motionless by the window, his back to her, he was caught in the depths of despair and self-denigration. Filled with remorse, he knew with absolute certainty that this betrayal was completely beyond all understanding, beyond forgiving.

 "Kell, come he- . . . . . . . ." she began, only to be interrupted by a spasm of coughing. He turned at the sound, concerned for her well-being, and came to the side of the bed.

 Can you imagine how much I love you . . . . . . . . "Kell," she said softly as she looked into his eyes, "did you really mean it, in San Francisco?"

 Caught off guard by her sudden switch, he answered honestly, "You know I did."

 "And now?" . . . . . . . . tune your heart to me . . . . join with me in harmony and sing a song of loving . . . . . . . . "Kell?"

 His eyes were dark pools of pain. "Can you ever forgive me?"

The agony in his voice tore at her heart. She took his hand and pulled him closer to her so she could reach up and put her arm around his neck. She pulled his head down and kissed him.

 He stepped back and looked at her incredulously, quietly demanding, "How can . . . . . . . . why . . . . . . . ."

 "Always and ever," she gently reminded him.

 A stray tear drifted down his cheek and she reached up to brush it away. "In case you haven’t noticed," she smiled softly, "I love you, Kelly Brackett, temper and all." So much love sparkling in her eyes --- he felt surrounded by it, unworthy of it.

 He gently gathered her into his arms then and embraced her. Not for the first time, he wondered just what he had ever done in his entire life to deserve a wonder such as this.

 . . . . . . . . . hold me close her heart sang, filled with joy. The picture of her gently rocking their babies to sleep that he had etched in his mind flashed unbidden through his consciousness. And in that moment, neither of them wished for anything more.

 After a time he carefully laid her back against the pillows and she smiled at him. He looked into her deep blue eyes, but found no accusation, no disappointment there, only love, shining brightly. It amazed him and he once again marveled that she could actually care about him at all. Looking deep within himself, he knew that, no matter how undeserving he might be, his very heart and soul belonged to her forever.

 Figuring he had had just about enough time, Joe softly knocked on the door. After a moment, he quietly opened the door and went into the room.

 Gently brushing her hair back from her face, Kell turned at the sound of the door opening. Seeing Joe, he whispered a deep, heartfelt, "Thank you," that spoke volumes between the two steadfast friends.

 "Hi, Dix," he said, coming up to her bed. "How do you feel?"

 "Just fine," she answered with a dreamy smile.

 Joe laughed softly. "I’m glad," he said; then, turning serious, continued, "The next time you pull a stunt like this . . . . . . . ."

 She interrupted his thought with a woebegone expression of such abject contriteness that both doctors laughed.

 "Does that mean I can go home?" she asked.

 "No!" they both told her at once knowing that, at least for the next day or two, she would be staying right where she was.

 "It was worth a try," she muttered dejectedly; then, as fatigue claimed her, she drifted off to sleep, his hand still held in hers.

 Momentarily lost in thought, Kell started at the sound of the door opening. Both doctors turned to greet their colleague, George Tomlinson, the doctor who had tended to Dixie’s dislocated shoulder and fractured ribs. "How’s she doing this morning?" he asked as he came into the room.

 "Pretty good, I guess," answered Kell, a bit distractedly. "Thanks for taking care of her."

 "Well," he laughed, "she just sort of collapsed right in front of me, so I really didn’t have a whole lot of choice!" Joking aside, he solemnly added, "She looked as if she had some sort of problem, and I stopped to ask her if she needed any help. She wanted to know if I’d seen Joe and before I could even answer, she simply crumpled up. Scared the hell out of me."

 "Dixie does have a tendency to do things with flair!" laughed Joe. "Don’t know how she got hurt, though . . . . . . . ."

 "She said one of the shelves in supply room fell over on her during the earthquake," Kell said somberly. "She just figured she’d help out around Emergency first and get someone to look at her later. That’s why she was hunting for you . . . . . . . ."

 "That sounds like Dixie," Joe commented.

 "You’d think maintenance would fasten all those shelves to the wall," mused George. "It’s a wonder it didn’t kill her."

 Kell, distraught at hearing his worst fears verbalized, turned away and, as he sat there, his hand still held in hers, he breathed a silent prayer of thanks that she would be all right.

 Summer waned into autumn, and, as with all things, the earthquake became just a piece of statistical memory as other things moved to the forefront of the news to take its place as the hot topic of the day.

*****

Dixie found herself at loose ends late one afternoon. The twins were sleeping, Kell had gone to Chicago to be the keynote speaker at an emergency medicine conference, and she had almost finished the book she was reading. With a frustrated sigh, she tossed the book aside, unable to concentrate, and decided to listen to the local news before finishing it. Flipping on the television, she was dismayed to hear the announcer reporting on yet another gang shooting. It seemed to her as if there was altogether too much of that sort of thing lately. Made you wonder just what the world was coming to . . . . . . . .

 Coming from the nursery, fussy baby sounds intruded on her thoughts and, surprised, she went to check on the children. The twins were not given to being particularly fussy, and it was unusual for them to whimper and whine when they woke up.

 Kevin was awake, gurgling and cooing and generally amusing himself, but Kelsie was fussing. Dixie picked her up, noticing at once that she seemed to be particularly warm. The nurse in her kicked in, and as she got the thermometer to check her daughter’s temperature she noticed that the baby seemed a bit lethargic. Her concern grew as she read the thermometer. The news and the book both now forgotten, she gathered up the children and headed for Rampart.

 Mike Morton was just going out the door as Dixie was coming in with the twins, and, seeing how upset she was, stopped to offer his assistance. In short order, he had examined Kelsie and suggested she be admitted for some tests.

 "What is it, Mike?" Dixie demanded. "Please tell me what’s wrong with her," she pleaded, tears brimming in her eyes.

 "I can’t be sure until the tests come back," he told her. "You know that."

 "Mike!" she begged. "Please --- tell me what you think."

 Realizing he was not going to be able to get around it, he took a deep breath and told her, "It looks like meningitis."

 "I knew it," she said as she hugged Kevin tightly and turned away, her fears now overwhelming her thoughts.

 "We should check Kevin, too," Mike told her. Reluctantly, she released her hold on the baby as Mike took him from her.

 Numb, she stood silently, oblivious to everything, fear blotting out the rest of the world.

 Tests confirmed her fears and Mike’s diagnosis, and, although everyone reassured her that the babies would be fine, that she had done everything right getting them in to the hospital so quickly, she could not banish the fear that held her in its grip.

 She resisted the urge to call Kell, recognizing the importance of his participation in the conference and knowing that there would be absolutely nothing he could do, even if he were there. And if, like everyone kept telling her, everything was under control and the twins were really going to be just fine, then there certainly was no reason to drag Kell away from the conference. Nevertheless, she felt very much abandoned and alone as she fretted through the waiting.

 "Dixie," Mike said softly as he came into the pediatrics isolation unit the next morning, "I thought it might make you feel better, so I called over to Children’s. I talked to Dr. Evanston, and he said to tell you he would come right over and take a look at Kevin and Kelsie."

 "I thought you said they would be all right," she queried, becoming frantic now that Mike was calling in the big guns.

 "They are doing fine," he reassured her. "I just thought that since he had taken care of them when they were at Children’s you would feel better having him here . . . . . . . ." Hoping he had not been out of line, he went back down to Emergency to meet Dr. Evanston and bring him up to date on the case.

 Fighting to rein in her frayed emotions and finally gaining enough control to recognize the depth of Mike’s concern for her feelings, she tried to shake off the fear gnawing at her. She had to admit that, although she had every confidence in the doctors at Rampart, she really would feel better having Dick Evanston treat the twins. Mike had really gone out of his way to help her get through this nightmare, and she made a mental note to be sure to thank him the next time she saw him.

 "Dr. Morton," said Betty, relief evident in her voice, "thank goodness you’re back. Six more children came in while you were upstairs --- all confirmed with meningitis . . . . . . . . it looks like we have a full-blown epidemic on our hands!"

 "Have you called the Health Department?" he asked. An affirmative nod and he asked, "Any other reported cases?"

 "Not so far," she told him.

 "Well, at least that’s something," he said. "Do we have any idea if there’s some sort of connection between the children?"

 Grimly, Betty told him, "They’re all from our Child Care Center."

 Stunned, Mike sighed and headed for the nearest treatment room, calling over his shoulder, "Get some help in here now!"

The time crept by. Dick Evanston had told her that the twins were doing fine, that there was no reason to worry. Everyone said they were responding to the medication and every indication was that they would make a complete recovery. Dick had praised her prompt and correct action --- another doctor telling her she had done everything exactly right. But she found it impossible to banish the fear that gripped her and it became harder and harder for her to believe their words. Panic and fear joined forces, together consorting to rob her of any peace of mind and leaving her feeling as if she were in caught in limbo . . . . . . . . a teaspoon of teardrops . . . . . . . . waiting . . . . . . . . waiting . . . . . . . . waiting . . . . . . . .

 "I do wish we could convince her," he said to Mike. "She hears what we say, but . . . . . . . . I’m half-tempted to call Kell, but I hate to go against her wishes, and I’m afraid she’d see that as a confirmation of her fears that the twins are not recovering."

 "She’s a nurse . . . . . . . ." Mike began.

 "She’s a mother, worried about her children," Dick interrupted. "She may well be the best nurse on the face of the planet, but that does not make a bit of difference. This is basic, instinctive . . . . . . . . mother fear. The only thing that’ll help is for them to get well so they can go home."

 "But they are getting better, aren’t they?"

 "Sure," he told Mike, "but she doesn’t see it yet. When they are bouncing around again, then maybe . . . . . . . ."

 "Can’t be any too soon," muttered Mike under his breath.

 Mike tried to convince her to get some sleep, but she steadfastly insisted on keeping a vigil over the twins. Her inner tension kept her on edge and awake and she resolutely refused to leave her children. Absently, she remembered to thank him for calling Dick Evanston, but his reassurances that they had the epidemic under control and that every one of the sick children was recovering did nothing to allay her fears.

*****

It was late, but Kell was anxious to see her and, finding no one at home, he headed off for Rampart, thinking she must be on duty. He was not at all prepared for what he found when he got there.

 Having gotten the gist of an explanation and a status report on the twins from Betty, he headed for the elevator, meeting up with Mike as the door opened. On the way to pediatrics, the younger doctor filled him in on the events of the past few days, including all of the children from the Center who had become ill and ending with the fact that Dixie had been staying right beside the twins the entire time they had been in the hospital.

 Thus, as they came out of the elevator, he was surprised to see her sitting in the waiting room talking with Dick Evanston. Hoping everything was all right, he and Mike headed in that direction.

 ". . . . . . . . just what I told you," Dick was saying to her. "Right now, you need to take care of yourself --- get some sleep ---otherwise, you’re going to end up with the twins ready to come home and you . . . . . . . ."

 "I know, Dick," she interrupted with a tired sigh and an acknowledging nod of her head. "I’m really sorry --- I have been listening to you and I don’t mean to be difficult." Pausing a moment, she pensively reflected, "I guess that this was my designated week to diligently perfect my skills in paranoid parenting . . . . . . . ."

 In spite of himself, he laughed at her wry comment. Puzzled, he pulled her into a hug as he queried, "Paranoid parenting?" Holding her tightly, he softly told her, "That’s not allowed, Love." Giving Dick a questioning look as he held her, he breathed a silent prayer of thanks at his quiet confirmation that the twins would be just fine.

 Exhausted and overwhelmed by the past couple of mind-numbing days, she melted into the hug, grateful to finally have him here. Her thoughts were a jumble, and everything seemed foggy, but eventually she remembered to ask him how the conference had gone.

 "Just fine," he murmured, leading her over to the sofa and sitting down with her. "But you really should have called me," he gently reproached. "You know I’d have come right back."

 "I know," she said, looking at him sardonically. "That’s why I didn’t call. Everyone said there was nothing to worry about, and you couldn’t have done anything, anyway . . . . . . . . and the conference was important."

 "I should have been with you," he told her gently, holding her tightly. "Nothing is more important than you and the kids."

 She smiled and snuggled into the hug, grateful that she no longer had to maintain her vigil alone. Safe in his arms, she could finally relax . . . . . . . . I know the only one for me can only be you . . . . . . . .

 Joe came up to join the group. He had been out of town on a consultation and had just heard about the children. Knowing that Kell was supposed to be at the conference in Chicago, his first thought was to check on Dixie and the twins. He was relieved to discover that Kell was back and that Dick Evanston was there as well. He came over and sat next to the doctor. Dick was watching Kell and Dixie, a puzzled look on his face. "Something wrong?" Joe asked softly.

 Kell was sitting with his arm around her shoulders and she had comfortably cuddled up to him, her head resting on his shoulder. They were talking quietly, and for the first time since the twins had become ill, Dixie actually seemed relaxed and ate ease.

"Dixie seems different . . . . . . . ." Dick told Joe, perplexed. "Since Kell came in, she hasn’t been the same at all. Not that there was anything wrong with how she was before, it’s just that now she’s . . . . . . . . changed . . . . . . . ." he continued, struggling to find the right words to explain his observation. "I mean, I expected her to be more relaxed and glad to see him, but it’s almost like she became an altogether different person."

 Smiling plaintively at the observation, Joe replied, "Dixie’s a real pro at building walls around herself --- usually she leaves only a little bit of herself visible. But, when she’s with Kell, or when she sings, most of the walls just disappear . . . . . . . ."

 "Sings?" queried Dick, but Joe said nothing further and, after a moment, Dick added, "It’s an interesting metamorphosis to watch. He came in, and she just became a different person."

 "No --- she just finally felt safe enough to be her real self."

 Completely oblivious to the hushed conversation between the two doctors, Kell and Dixie continued to talk quietly between themselves. Dixie snuggled into Kell’s embrace and listened as he softly talked, reassuring her. Before she knew it she had succumbed to the inescapable pull of sleep that she had kept at bay all the time she had been their children’s sole sentinel.

 Kell, still with his arm around her shoulders, smiled to himself as her deep, regular breathing told him she was at last getting the rest she so desperately needed.

 "Well," said Dick with a sigh and a grin, "Mike and I have been trying to accomplish that for two days!"

 "What?" asked Kell, feigning confusion.

 "Getting her to sleep," Dick laughed.

 Kell just smiled, and hugged her tighter.

*****

As another uneventful shift came to a close, Johnny remarked to no one in particular, "I really don’t like this."

 "Like what?"

 "We haven’t had a real run all shift. And we didn’t have one last shift, either. Just a whole bunch of dinky little nothing sick calls. When we finally get a run, it’s going to be bad."

 "Aw, come on, Johnny, you don’t know that," criticized Chet.

 "Well, aside from a dumpster fire and a non-existent brush fire, what calls have you been on?" Johnny demanded.

 "What’s wrong with an occasional drop in calls for us to respond to?" Captain Stanley asked him, irritated with the direction the conversation was taking. "We don’t want the county to burn down just so we can go out on a run!"

 "Of course not, Cap," Johnny interjected. "It’s just that it means . . . . . . . . well, you just wait and see," Johnny retorted. "It’ll be bad. You’ll see."

 "Now how can you possibly . . . . . . . ." Chet began.

 The brassy tones sounded, interrupting their argument. True to Johnny’s dire prediction, it was big . . . . . . . . and bad.

 They moved quickly, purposefully, and headed out of Station 51, sirens screaming.

 The runaway truck had smashed into the concrete support stanchion with so much force that it had been smashed to bits, allowing the overpass to collapse onto both the truck and the freeway beneath it. The resulting carnage resembled nothing so much as a child’s toy car collection randomly crashed and smashed all over a playmat highway. Tons of broken concrete added to the scene, resulting in something that looked more like it had come from a wartime bombing raid.

 The firemen set about rescuing the injured, no small task considering the fact that there must have been a good two dozen vehicles involved in the mayhem.

 Chet Kelly and Marco Lopez were using the Jaws of Life in an effort to extricate three victims from their smashed to van. Meanwhile, Mike Stoker was addressing the brush fire that had resulted from the accident. Captain Stanley was feverishly requesting additional units and more ambulances.

 "Rampart, this is Squad fifty-one," Roy said into the bio-phone.

 "Go ahead, Fifty-one."

 Recognizing Dr. Early’s voice, Roy reported, "Rampart, we have multiple victims involved in a freeway accident. Victim One is male, thirty-eight years, probable concussion. Pupils sluggish but responsive. Stand by for vitals."

 "Blood pressure is 90 over 72," Johnny reported.

 Roy once again established contact with the hospital. "Rampart, this is Squad Fifty-one." A pause, then, "The vitals on our victim are: pulse 70, respiration shallow, about 14, B. P., 90 over 72. Victim has a broken wrist; it has been immobilized and a cervical collar has been applied."

 "Start an I.V,." came Dr. Early’s voice over the bio-phone, "with D5-W, TKO. Is the ambulance there?"

 "Affirmative, Rampart," Roy replied.

 "Transport as soon as possible."

 And so it went, through the long afternoon and into the night.

 Dixie was contentedly settled with her head resting on Kell’s shoulder . . . . . . . . the world will pardon my mush ‘cause I have got a crush, my Baby on you . . . . . . . . . when Joe came up to check on things.

 "How are you doing?" Joe asked, not addressing either one of them in particular.

 "Hi, Joe," answered Kell. "Just fine. How come you’re still here?"

 "Actually, I was thinking about heading home. But I’ve decided to go have some dinner first. Care to join me?"

 "Sounds great," said Dixie cheerfully. Much more relaxed since Kell had gotten back, and encouraged by the twins continuing improvement, she could actually almost trust that they would be fine. Dick had told her they could go home tomorrow, and that had done wonders for her confidence in how well they were recovering.

 "Any particular place in mind?" Kell asked.

 "Does it matter to you?"

 "Nope."

 "How about going out to The Seaside Place?"

 An I-understand-and-it’s-a-great-plan smile and affirmative nod from Kell and an instant smile from Dixie, as that just happened to be one of her most favorite places . . . . . . . . as long as Dean was there playing the piano . . . . . . . .

 Although the popular restaurant was crowded, Frank saw to it that they were seated promptly. "No sense in being the manager if you don’t manage things," he laughingly told them. Then he looked at Dixie and added, "Dean’ll be back in about fifteen minutes . . . . . . . ." With that, he went on his way.

 "Dix?" queried Kell. "Something wrong?"

 "No, I just . . . . . . . ." She hesitated, then asked, "Do you suppose Frank thinks I expect to just barge on in and sing with Dean every time we come here?"

 "No," said Frank, leaning over her shoulder. "He hopes you will because everyone loves it when you do!" Smiling at her, he added, "You don’t have to, but if you want to, you are more than welcome to sing to your heart’s content!" As he walked away, he added, "And you never ‘barge on in!’"

 She laughed as Kell and Joe both smiled at her and then said, "Guess I’ll go say ‘Hi’ to Dean . . . . . . . ." as she got up and wandered over toward the piano.

 "Wonderful prescription, Doctor Early," Kell teased Joe. "She is definitely in a much better frame of mind!"

 "You getting back helped the most. Still, I thought this might be a good idea," he laughed. "And I get to listen, too!"

 "Kell! Joe! I thought it was you --- how are you? Is Dixie here, too?" Dick Evanston greeted them warmly.

 "Dick! Hi," responded Kell. "Joe thought it’d be a good idea to get Dixie out of the hospital for a while, so here we are."

 "Great! The food here is delicious," Dick went on.

 "This is one of Dixie’s favorite places . . . . . . . ."

 As Dixie began to sing, Kell cut short his comment and turned his attention to the music:

The way you wear you hat

As always, everyone in the room had stopped to listen to the song and, by the end of the little tune, they were mesmerized by the singer. By now, Dean was used to this reaction and slipped right on into another song. True to form, she came in at exactly the right moment with:

  If I should lose you the stars would fall from the sky

They were becoming quite a duo, and Dean had discovered that he could pretty accurately predict Dixie’s mood and the type of song she was predisposed to want to sing as she sat beside him on the piano bench. Tonight, for some reason, she was enthralled with love songs, so he played on, just for her:

  Fools rush in

"Wow!" Dick exclaimed, looking at Joe and Kell in amazement. After a moment, he said to Joe, "This is what you meant the other day in the hospital when you said about Dixie singing, isn’t it?"

 Joe nodded and, as Dean and Dixie began another song, they all turned their attention to them.

 Thinking it a little outside his usual tunes, Dixie quietly chuckled at Dean’s next choice, but she knew it and she gamely sang:

Dean looked at her, thinking to himself that her interpretation of the song had definitely raised the temperature in the room a bit! As always, he was sad to see their music time come to an end, but it was getting late, and he generally tried never to encroach on too much of her time when she came into the restaurant. It would be really easy to get lost in the music and just play on and on and on. But, as he nimbly began playing the introduction, he whispered, "Last one tonight, Dixie." She absently nodded in acknowledgement as she listened for the cue:

  I remember you

She smiled, he smiled, and all they ever needed in the world was theirs . . . . . . . .

******************************

 Song Notes for this story:

 Love Is Here To Stay

George Gershwin / Ira Gershwin

Sir Harold Boulton / Old Welsh Air

Edward Heyman / Oscar Levant

Johnny Mercer / Harold Arlen

More [The Theme From Mondo Cane]

Newell / Ortolani / Oliviero

F. Forest / B. Hughes

Antonio Carlos Jobim / Newton Mendonca

Norman Gimbel / Pablo Beltran Ruiz

Harry Warren / Mack Gordon

George Gershwin / Ira Gershwin

Robin / Ralph Rainger

George Gershwin / Ira Gershwin

Johnny Mercer / Rube Bloom

Stanley

Victor Schertzinger / Johnny Mercer