Sing Forevermore

Note: This is a sequel to "Little Things"...you should read that first to avoid confusion!

Somehow, it all seemed just too fantastic, like an oft-told fairy tale of princesses, fire-breathing dragons, and white knights in shining armor. Incredulity was undeniably the order of the day, but it definitely did absolutely nothing to dampen the unbridled enthusiasm accompanying the festive party plans. After all, this was to be a homecoming to end all homecomings, for it most certainly is not every day that someone you thought you’d lost forever actually walks in the door and back into your life just as if nothing had happened. At least, almost as if nothing had happened . . . . . . . .

Dr. Kelly Brackett, the focus of all this party attention, had absolutely no idea of the magnitude of preparations being launched in anticipation of his return to Rampart General Hospital. Although he had been rather severely injured by a violent carjacker . . . . . . . . who had ultimately managed to kill himself in a fiery car crash on the Ventura Freeway . . . . . . . . he was well on his way to a full recovery and would be released from Camarillo Community Hospital in just a few days. That whole carjacking episode had been a real heart-stopper for the entire Rampart staff when the accident victim had initially been identified as Dr. Brackett . . . . . . . .

"Did you talk to Joe yet?" Mike Morton asked Betty as he came up to the nurses’ station. "We really need to finalize some details . . . . . . . ."

"Hey, Doc," greeted John Gage as he and Roy DeSoto sauntered up to the counter, preparing to refill the medical supplies they needed to keep their squad equipped. "Any news from up north yet?"

As Betty shook her head in a negative reply, Mike responded, "Not yet," his voice filled with frustration. "Joe is supposed to call and let us know when Kell’s going to be released, but we haven’t heard yet . . . . . . . ."

"It’s all so unbelievable . . . . . . . ." Roy began. "Just a few days ago . . . . . . . ."

"Yeah," agreed Johnny, cutting in. "We thought Doc Brackett was killed in that accident, and now we’re planning a welcome home party for him! How’s that for weird?"

"I’ll take that kind of weird any day, if the other choice is a memorial service," said Mike emphatically. The wail of an approaching siren, along with the sudden crackling to life of the paramedics’ handi-talkie, set everyone in motion and cut short their conversation. Mike, on the run to the treatment room, tossed a final comment over his shoulder, "At least this surprise is the good kind . . . . . . . ."

It remained to be seen, however, just who was in for the biggest surprise . . . . . . . .

Kelly Brackett, blissfully unaware of all the hustle and to-do being generated in his name and circulating the Rampart corridors, was reading, for the twelfth time, a short article in the Journal of American Medicine. It wasn’t very complicated, not a hard read at all, but his mind was definitely was not focused on his journal. As the door opened, he looked up in frustration. Joe Early stuck his head in, and, glancing around, saw that Kell was alone. "Mind if I come in?" he asked.

"Hi, Joe --- sure, come on in. How are you?"

"That’s my question," Joe grinned as he came in. "After all, you’re the patient!" Then he added seriously, "How do you feel today?"

"Fine," Kell responded, somewhat distractedly.

"If that was supposed to be convincing, you’d better try again," Joe remarked in an attempt at levity. This morning Kell seemed to be exhibiting a significant case of chronic patient-itis, giving Joe the impression he was suffering from that old classic "I’m-feeling-better-why-am-I-still-here?" syndrome.

Wondering just where in the world Dixie was, Kell just gave him a quizzical look and tossed the medical journal aside.

"Something wrong?" Joe queried, concerned for his friend. He had expected to find him in high spirits and was a bit taken aback by the reality that confronted him.

"Nah . . . . . . . ." Kell responded, not very convincingly, as he gazed off into empty space, his thoughts still focused on Dixie.

"I saw Ted on my way in," Joe reported as he sat down in the chair next to the bed. "Did he tell you yet when he might spring you from here?" "Ted" was Dr. Ted MacIntyre, the physician who had been treating Kell since he had been brought to this hospital a week ago.

Suddenly aware that Joe had asked him a question, Kell purposefully shifted his attention to his friend as he said, "I’m sorry . . . . . . . . what did you say, Joe?"

"Want me to go out and come in again?" asked Joe. "We seem to be in two different places . . . . . . . ."

"Joe, I’m sorry," Kell apologized earnestly. He made a conscious attempt to focus his attention on both his friend and the conversation, asking once more, "What did you say?"

"I asked if Ted had told you when you might be able to go home," Joe responded offhandedly, all-too-well-aware of the fact that Kell’s thoughts were elsewhere at the moment. Joe sincerely hoped that they were not focused on some problem.

"Nope."

Joe waited, but with no further response forthcoming, it was quite clear that Kell’s thoughts still remained far from their conversation. The silence stood between them, but, with a perception born of this long-standing friendship, Joe patiently waited for him to think through whatever it was that occupied his mind at the moment. It was clear that Kell had nothing more to say right then, so Joe just sat back and waited. Dispassionately, he observed that Kell was totally oblivious to the silence and he ruefully acknowledged to himself that it just might be a very long wait indeed . . . . . . . .

"Send him up to x-ray and then to the cast room," Mike ordered. As the doctor finished up, he realized a quick cup of coffee sounded like a mighty good idea, and he headed for the door. As he stepped into the hallway, however, Betty signaled him from the nurses’ station. Mike slowly walked over, hoping this would not turn out to be something that interfered with his plans for that hot cup of coffee . . . . . . . .

The ringing of the phone on the bedside table startled Kell, and he guiltily realized he had absolutely no idea of how long he had let his attention drift away from his conversation with Joe. He reached over and picked up the receiver with an abrupt, "Yes?"

Almost instantly, his face softened, his dark eyes sparkled as he smiled and responded in a soft tone, "Fine . . . . . . . . you?" He listened intently, smiled again, and said, "That sounds great." The smile lingered as he replaced the receiver, and Joe noted that he now seemed to be in a different far-away place.

"Kell?"

With a start, Kell looked at Joe, realizing he had been so intent on his own thoughts that he had virtually ignored his friend. With an apologetic smile, he said, "Dixie," as if that explained everything. In fact, it did, in a way. "She’s on her way up here now. . . . . . . ."

"Are you OK?" Joe asked point-blank.

With an affirmative shake of his head, Kell replied, "I’m fine," and he fought to keep his attention from wandering away again. "I’m sorry . . . . . . . ." he began once more . . . . . . . .

"No problem," replied his friend, interrupting the apology. "All of this has given you quite a lot to think about, I would guess."

Recognizing that Joe was referring to the carjacking incident and all that it had engendered, he agreed. "I’ll say." Then, after a slight pause, he continued, "It’s kind of like that old ‘somebody walking on your grave’ feeling, knowing that my family and friends actually believed I had been . . . . . . . ."

"Everyone’s certainly are glad that wasn’t the case," Joe interrupted, wanting to move the talk away from that particular subject. Kell had indicated that Dixie was on her way up and if she were to walk in and actually hear them discussing that . . . . . . . . well, considering how much on edge she had been lately, it would simply be better if that specific topic of conversation were totally avoided for the time being.

The door opened, and both men turned expectantly. It was Ted MacIntyre, with a smile on his face. "Good morning," he said, coming into the room. Then, addressing his patient, he cheerfully continued, "Doctor, we really ought to use this room for someone who actually needs it, so maybe you could plan on going home day after tomorrow . . . . . . . .?"

The grin that exploded on Kell’s face told both men that he definitely gave his seal of approval to that prescription. "That would be great!" he said, followed with a sincere, "Not that I don’t appreciate all you’ve done . . . . . . . ."

Dr. MacIntyre laughed and replied, "Wait’ll you get my bill!" All three men chuckled, then the doctor continued, "Seriously, everything looks good, and I see no reason for you to stay any longer. We’ll keep an eye on you for another day or so and if there are no complications, you can plan on going home on Wednesday. A few days of rest at home, and you can go back to work next Monday, if you feel up to it. OK?"

"Sounds terrific!" Kell enthused.

"Well, then, I have some real patients to see," Dr. MacIntyre retorted as he headed out of the room, still smiling. He let the door close behind him, turned, and nearly bumped into Dixie.

"Hi," he said brightly to her. "How are you today?"

She smiled as she brushed back her hair. "Fine. How’s Kell?"

He was always her very first thought, he observed without comment. Aloud he responded, "Doing great. If there are no complications, and I really don’t expect any, he can go home Wednesday afternoon. After he rests at home for a few days, he should be able to go back to work at the hospital."

She positively beamed at that prospect, and he noticed that the smile made her deep blue eyes sparkle. "Thank you for everything," she said to him, genuinely grateful for the care he had given Kell. With another smile, she turned away, pushed open the door and entered his room . . . . . . . . You’d be so nice to come home to . . . . . . . . sang in her heart.

Dr. MacIntyre just stood there, thinking to himself what a truly incredible lady she was . . . . . . . .

As Dixie came in, Joe stood, remarking, "I ought to deliver the good news to the people back home," and headed for the door. Passing Dixie, he stopped momentarily to give her a kiss on the cheek, saying, "Hi, Dix. Bye, Dix. See you later!"

"Hi, Joe. Bye, Joe," she responded gaily, falling easily into the wordplay game. "Don’t let me chase you away --- you are coming right back, aren’t you?"

"No, I think I’ll get some breakfast first," he replied as he left. "For some reason, I’m really hungry this morning . . . . . . . ."

Dixie made a face as Joe departed, causing Kell to comment, "What, Love, wouldn’t you like to have some breakfast, too?"

"Please, let’s not have any conversations about food," she requested with a shudder as she crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. She leaned over to give him a kiss and asked, "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," he replied brightly. "Aren’t you?"

Playfully, she made a grimace-y face at him, answering his question with a warning not to dare mention food --- not even the chocolate kind --- for a while. But she continued to smile, and Kell figured that was a good sign.

"It looks as if I’ll get to go home Wednesday afternoon," he commented. "How’s that for something to look forward to?" he asked cheerfully as he drew her into a hug.

Contentedly, she smiled softly, sighed, settled herself in his arms . . . . . . . . can you imagine how much I love you . . . . . . . . and returned the hug. Ever since San Francisco, her life seemed to have had more than its share of Alice in Wonderland moments, especially with the carjacking, but cuddled in his arms she felt safe. Sometimes it still seemed like a dream, but here they were --- and being married to Kell was, quite simply, wonderful.

"Yeah, Mike, Dr. MacIntyre is pleased with his progress and, assuming there are no problems or complications, it looks like he’ll release Kell Wednesday afternoon," Joe was saying. "After a few days resting at home, he’ll be back to work in Emergency just like . . . . . . . ."

"Wow, that’s great news!" Mike interrupted enthusiastically.

"What’s great news?" asked Johnny. "Is that news about Doc Brackett?"

"Sounds like you have a whole crowd there!" laughed Joe, catching bits of Johnny’s questions over the line.

"Just Roy and Johnny," responded Mike. "But everyone wants to know when Kell will be here. If he’s being released Wednesday," Mike paused to do a quick bit of figuring, then continued on, "maybe we ought to plan for something on Friday afternoon . . . . . . . ."

"That sounds really good," Joe agreed. "If he’s feeling up to it, he’ll be back to work Monday . . . . . . . ."

"I’ll pass the word and we’ll plan for Friday then. About two in the afternoon sound good to you?"

"Sounds great. I’ll make sure he’s there."

"All right. See you soon." Mike replaced the telephone receiver and turned to the two anxious paramedics. They had been joined by half a dozen hospital staff members, all eager to hear the news. Directing his question to the two firemen, he asked, "How does Friday afternoon, about two, sound to you?"

"Sounds great!" they responded in unison. Roy continued, "When is he supposed to leave the hospital?"

"Wednesday afternoon," Mike responded. "A few days rest, and he’s cleared to come back to work on Monday if he’s feeling up to it."

"Getting back to work is right at the top of our agenda, too," remarked Roy with a roll of his eyes as their handi-talkie squawked to life once more.

"Right!" laughed Mike. "Just be sure to be here Friday at two," he called as they headed down the corridor toward the door.

"Wouldn’t miss it!" they responded cheerfully as they ran out.

Mike smiled as he headed off to spread the news. It was up to him to make sure all the preparations were moving along and that everything would be ready for the big day.

Dixie, still perched on the edge of the bed, had shifted her position so that her head rested on his shoulder. Although he was reluctant to break the mood, Kell quietly enquired, "Do you suppose we ought to tell Joe . . . . . . . .?"

"Well, I guess we could, but chances are he’ll figure it out anyway, sooner or later, all by himself!" she giggled . . . . . . . . What a difference a day makes . . . . . . . .

He was relieved to discover that Dixie was much more like her old self today. Much to his amusement, she displayed, on occasion, a delightfully wicked sense of humor. "I guess you’re right," he chuckled, but do you really want to wait for that?"

"No . . . . . . . ." she began, only to be interrupted by a knock on the door. With a protesting sigh, she got up and settled herself in the chair, then reached out to take hold of Kell’s hand. No one could love you more . . . . . . . . "Your ears must be ringing," she commented as Joe walked through the door.

"Why? Were you talking about me?" he teased.

"As a matter of fact, we were," she told him seriously. Without missing a beat, she added, "How would you like to be a godfather?"

*****

The call took them to a run-down hotel where a broken gas pipe had caused an explosion and a fire. It was a long, arduous campaign, but the firemen were victorious in the end, and tiredly returned to the station. Some days the victories were hard fought-for ones, appreciated all the more by those that won them. Chet Kelly quietly puttered around, working on whipping up something in the kitchen, but everyone was too tired to pay much attention. For now, it just didn’t matter what he made, as long as it turned out to be even vaguely edible.

Mike dispatched the last of the fire victims to the burn ward and, with tiredness echoing in every muscle, realized he had long ago missed that cup of hot coffee. "Wonder if there’s any left now?" he mused as he headed for the lounge. He definitely needed a few minutes to wind down and relax after the frantic pace they had been keeping as they tried to treat all the victims. Everyone was exhausted, but it was a good sort of exhaustion because they had not lost a single one of their patients, not even the most critically injured. All in all, a good day’s work, one that left you feeling satisfied with your life’s choices. "Still," he reflected as he gazed at the steaming dark liquid filling his cup, "it will be much better when Joe and Kell are back here to help out on days like this . . . . . . ."

His musings were interrupted as Betty came in and Mike rose to draw a cup of the hot brew from the pot for her. Gratefully accepting the proffered cup, she slumped into the chair. "Phew," she remarked. "I hope we don’t have too many more days like this one any time soon!"

"Know exactly what you mean," offered Mike.

"With Kell and Joe both gone, and Dixie and three other nurses out sick, we are understaffed by at least six people . . . . . . . ."

"Know what’s wrong with Dixie?" asked Mike curiously, surprised to hear Betty count her among the sick nurses.

*****

Kell almost laughed aloud at her to-the-point comment to Joe, but a warning glare from Dixie told him discretion would definitely be the better path here, and so, with some difficulty, he smothered the laugh. Stunned, Joe stood rooted to the spot, not saying a word and looking like someone had just smashed him several times with a baseball bat.

Finally Dixie took pity on him . . . . . . . . it’s very clear . . . . . . . . and softly asked, "Is that a ‘Yes’ or do you need more time to think about it?"

Dazed, he shook his head as he walked over to the chair where she sat. Suddenly he exclaimed, "You can’t be serious!" as he looked at his friends in absolute amazement.

"Well, it wasn’t something we planned, but . . . . . . . ." Kell began by way of explanation and not at all happy with the turn the conversation suddenly seemed to have taken. He had already thought about the possible complications with this first-time pregnancy, especially considering Dixie’s age, but she was so happy about it that he had decided not to even broach the subject with her. After all, there simply weren’t too many options here, and he already knew that choosing not to have the baby was definitely not an option that would have a place on Dixie’s personal list of any and all things acceptable.

Jumping up and attempting to push past Joe, Dixie headed for the door. She had anticipated a far different reaction to their news and now, feeling as if she were a giant balloon suddenly and unexpectedly popped with a sharp pin, she could not control the tears welling up in her eyes.

Joe reached out and stopped her. "Dix," he said gently by way of explanation, "I guess it’s great if you two are happy about it." As he spoke, he realized he had approached this all wrong, but he was extremely worried and could not dismiss his concerns. "But it seems awfully risky . . . . . . . ."

"Everything’s risky," she sniffed, trying unsuccessfully to release her arm from his grasp. Angrily, she continued, "You can just go ahead and think whatever you want . . . . . . . ."

"I want for you to be OK . . . . . . . ."

"I’m just fine," she retorted.

". . . . . . . . and I don’t want anything to happen to you," he told her, still holding her arm. "I’m apprehensive. Remember, I’m a doctor and I know all the possibilities . . . . . . . ."

"Why do you have to think it will turn out to be bad?" she demanded as tears began to roll down her cheeks.

"Dix," he said, sitting her back down in the chair and stooping down beside her, "I don’t think it’s bad, and I don’t know that there will be any problems, but it would be unrealistic not to acknowledge the possibility. You’re a nurse, you know how complications . . . . . . . ."

"The only complication I see," Dixie tearfully interrupted, "is someone who is supposed to be our friend busy borrowing trouble instead of being happy for us!" Hurt and angry, she added, "Well, you don’t have to be happy about it . . . . . . . ."

Sighing, Joe acknowledged her accusation with a sad nod of his head. "You’re right --- maybe I am just borrowing trouble. I’m sorry. And I am happy for you . . . . . . . ."

But Dixie refused to be mollified, and Joe sadly realized that, by voicing his concern, he might well have destroyed a friendship that meant everything to him. Sadly he rose and walked slowly out the door as Dixie sat in the chair sobbing and Kell dazedly tried to figure out just how to salvage a friendship that suddenly twisted up and somehow managed to become a tangled web of hurt feelings and honest concern.

"Well, you look like you just lost your best friend," observed Ted MacIntyre, just managing to keep from bumping into Joe as he came through the door.

Joe looked at him with such a pained expression that he was instantly concerned. "What’s the matter?"

"I made a stupid mistake and it may just have cost me a friendship," Joe replied sadly. "I didn’t think before I said something, and I really said the wrong thing . . . . . . . ."

"Can’t be that bad," remarked Ted, walking over to the waiting room sofa with Joe.

"Worse."

"Want to talk?"

Joe sighed. "Dixie and Kell are my best friends. And instead of simply sharing their happiness, I played doctor --- pressed all the worry buttons and rang alarm bells. And now . . . . . . . ."

"But there’s nothing to worry about," interrupted Dr. MacIntyre in confusion. "He’s doing fine and will make a full recovery."

Joe remained silent.

"You know," he went on, "they are pretty remarkable people. I’ll bet that whatever it is you’re fretting about has already been forgotten . . . . . . . ."

"Not a chance," muttered Joe.

"You’d be surprised how understanding and forgiving friends can be. After all, the problem never really matters. Friendship is one of the most important things of life and it manages to forge a remarkably resilient bond between people . . . . . . . ."

"Thanks," said Joe, suddenly realizing exactly how to fix things and jumping up from the sofa to head back for Kell’s room.

"Sure," answered the doctor with a quizzical shake of his head.

Dixie had moved from the chair to the edge of the bed and was softly crying on Kell’s shoulder. He held her in his arms, stroking her hair as he tried, with little success, to comfort her.

Joe took this in as he quietly came into the room and let the door close behind him. He stood for a moment, then spoke quietly. "Dixie, Kell," he began, "I was way out of line before, and I would like to apologize for that. I worry about both of you because I care about you, but that’s really no excuse for being so negative." He walked halfway across the room as he continued, "Nothing is more important than our friendship. I can’t promise not to be concerned, but I want you to know that, no matter what, I will always be there for you both." After a moment’s hesitation, he added, "And, if the offer still stands, I would be very honored to be a godfather . . . . . . . ."

"Oh, Joe . . . . . . . ." cried Dixie as she crossed the space between them to give him a hug.

"I’m sorry, Dix," he said softly, hugging her back. "I didn’t mean to upset you, and I really am happy for you . . . . . . . ."

Stepping back, she brushed the tears from her cheeks, mischievously glared at him, planted her hands on her hips, and spoke. "If the offer still stands . . . . . . . . surely you didn’t think I was going to let you get out of it that easily, did you?"

Kell chuckled and Joe smiled at her, fervently hoping that this would turn out exactly the way she was happily anticipating it would be. Concern and worry were gnawing in the back of his mind, though, and he reluctantly concluded that he was simply going to have to keep them to himself.

*****

As expected, there were no problems, no complications, and Kell was released from the hospital right on schedule. "Keep in touch," Dr. MacIntyre said to Dixie, who, having come to once more thank him and to say good-bye, now stood in the doorway of his office.

"I will," she promised. "Thank you for everything."

"That’s what we’re here for," he said with a smile. "You know that . . . . . . . ."

"Yes, I do, but I can still appreciate all you did," she replied earnestly as she brushed a stray strand of hair out of her eyes.

"I’m glad it all worked out for you. Nice things should happen to nice people once in a while --- it helps keep the world in balance."

With that, they were on their way. Dixie drove her car and Joe followed in his. Traffic, for once, was minimal, making the drive along the coast pleasant and peaceful. Again, the crisp salt air brought her memories of San Francisco, but this time there was no sad longing --- she had found Kell and her world was perfect again . . . . . . . . there are no gloomy skies when seen through the eyes of those who are blessed with love . . . . . . . .

Suddenly feeling hungry, she glanced over at Kell and asked, "What would you think about stopping for an early supper?"

"You actually want to eat?" Kell teased. "Quick! Stop before the lady changes her mind!"

Laughing, Dixie clicked on the turn signal and checked the rear view mirror to make sure Joe turned off, too. They were at a new seafood restaurant on the beach in Santa Monica, and the enticing aroma wafting through the parking lot assured them they had stopped in the right place.

Someone was playing the piano in a side room, and Dixie was enchanted. "Can we please sit in that room, near the piano?" she requested, and the hostess seated them at a comfortable table almost within arm’s reach of the piano. They placed their order and settled back, old friends enjoying each other’s company. Dixie was quiet, preoccupied and enthralled with the music, but the men were talking medicine and seemed not to notice, so she just happily sat and let the melody enfold her.

The serenity of the moment was broken by a whispered, caustic, "But nobody knows the stuff you play!"

"It’s real music, good music," the pianist objected.

"I need you to play stuff people will come in here to hear!"

"But . . . . . . . ."

"If you can’t do that, maybe you shouldn’t be working here," the manager retorted.

"I need this job," the pianist earnestly pleaded in a hushed voice. "We have a new baby . . . . . . . ."

"That’s not my concern. I need you to play music people will come in to hear." Enraged, the manager continued, "I’ll bet you couldn’t find one single, solitary person in this entire room who knows the songs you play!"

"I’m sure that’s not true . . . . . . . ."

Losing control, the manager continued, "Well, find one or find another job!"

As this exchange took place practically right next to her, Dixie became more and more annoyed. Finally, she couldn’t stand it any longer. She got up from her place at the table and, walking over to where the manager and the pianist stood, she said, "The music is absolutely lovely."

"Thank you," acknowledged the pianist gratefully.

"Glad you like it," mumbled the manager, adding under his breath, "bet you have no idea what the songs are, either."

"Are you really going to let him go, I mean, with a new baby and all?" Dixie coyly enquired, gesturing toward the pianist.

"Not if he plays stuff people know and want to . . . . . . . ."

"Did I hear you say, ‘Just one single, solitary person needed to know his songs?’" she persisted.

Embarrassed, the manager replied, "Yeah, that’s what I said. But no one knows those songs, so it doesn’t make a difference. He’ll just have to play some new songs if he wants to stay on."

"I thought the music was beautiful," said Dixie demurely. But she was becoming more and more angered by the manager’s attitude. Indignantly, she pondered the situation. To punish this wonderful pianist just because the manager didn’t recognize the songs was so very unfair --- it just wasn’t right!

"Sure, but you don’t hear people sitting around the tables singing them, do you?" the manager griped.

"Is that what you want, for the people to sing the songs?"

"That would be nice," said the manager, beginning to feel backed into a corner, yet still attempting to be polite to this customer. "But no one’s ever heard of them --- and no one knows the words . . . . . . . . assuming they even have words!"

"But it’s the big guys, like Berlin and Porter," protested the pianist weakly. The manager glared at him, and he fell silent.

The entire exchange had upset Dixie much more than she cared to admit, and in a sudden fit of temper, she resolved that she was going to have a say in all of this.

She turned to the pianist, saying, "Please play something. I was really enjoying the music . . . . . . . ."

"Hmmmph!" grumbled the manager, walking away, as the pianist began playing yet another tune he did not recognize.

"Something special you would like to hear?"

"Anything, just no hard rock or we’re both in big trouble," she answered softly, much to the puzzlement of the pianist.

As he continued with the soft little tune, she asked if she could sit on the edge of the piano bench. Surprised, he shifted to make room for her as his fingers deftly played over the keys.

She listened carefully to the music, and as he reached the right spot, she softly began to sing:

As she sang, everyone in the room, including Kell and Joe, stopped talking and paused to listen. Dumbfounded, the pianist looked at her and said, "You have a lovely voice."

"You’d better play something else real quick, or we’re both going to get it in spades," she retorted as she spied the manager suddenly looking their way. "You do want to keep this job, right?"

With a quick affirmative nod, the pianist began another song, hoping it would be one that she knew. It was, and Dixie sang:

It begins to tell

Mem’ries always start

At last understanding what was happening [and thanking his lucky stars for this lovely lady, wherever she had come from], the pianist quickly segued into another song, and she sang on:

Love letters straight from your heart

The room burst into applause, and Dixie seemed embarrassed. But she urged him to continue playing, and he chose a bouncy, upbeat number, crossing his mental fingers and fervently hoping that she would know the words. His fears were for naught; at exactly the right moment, she joined in:

You say he’ll break my heart in two

Hurt me and give me that old run-around

Maybe he will, maybe he won’t

Joe looked over at Kell, who was watching Dixie with the most amazed expression on his face. "I didn’t know that Dixie could sing like that," he exclaimed.

"Me, neither," said Kell, absently. He was totally spellbound, mesmerized. How did it happen that his lovely Dixie could sing like that and he never even had a clue? Sure, he had heard her humming around the house, but this . . . . . . . . this was something altogether different, a whole new side of Dixie that he had never even glimpsed before . . . . . . . .

His mind was reeling; how could it be that just when he most needed someone to appreciate his music she would walk into the restaurant? And what a voice! He settled back, enjoying the experience and noted with wry amusement that she was absolutely, totally enthralled with the music. True to her promise, as he played on, she sang:

Fly me to the moon

In other words, I love you

Fill my heart with song

His name was Dean, and as he finished the song, she quietly remarked, "Two or three more ought to do it. Let you go indeed!" She smiled at him and suggested, "How about a couple of sad and lonely Arthur Hamilton ones? Then, I’m going to need you to do a special one, just for me. OK?"

"Sure," he replied. "Anything. Just tell me what you want." A brief moment of thought and began to play the requested sad and lonely tune, saying, "How’s this for Hamilton?" She smiled wistfully and, right on cue, began to sing:

You could have heard the proverbial pin drop in the dining room as everyone sat listening to the music, spellbound by the singer. It was one of those rare magic moments in which everything in the world seemed to be absolutely enchanted.

Without a pause, he segued into the second Hamilton song, and she pensively sang:

It’s the month of Remember

For it’s the thirteenth month of the year

Appreciatively, everyone burst into applause as the song came to an end, and Dixie seemed somewhat overwhelmed by their attention. Glancing at Dean, she indicated he should continue playing.

Sorry to see this unexpected but exhilarating experience come to an end, he nevertheless felt obligated to respect her request for just two or three more songs and, now at the final tune, he softly began to play her requested song. At that moment, however, the manager came up behind them and spoke to her in a whisper, keeping her from singing.

Captured by responsibility, he had no choice but to play on for the customers, and he idly wondered if he might be able to get away with re-starting the song when she was able to sing. Selfishly, he did not want to miss the opportunity to hear her lovely voice once more.

Although she had missed the beginning of her song because of the hushed conversation into which she had been drawn, when she was finally able to turn away from the manager, she listened carefully for an appropriate place to join in. He was already through the first part of the song, but she easily picked up the beginning of the next line and softly sang:

Little things mean a lot

With that, she turned to him, smiled contemplatively, and asked, "Well, Dean, do you think we made our point?"

He chuckled and replied, "If we didn’t, I guess I had better find another place to work!" After a brief hesitation, he said, "I don’t know how to thank you."

"Go home tonight and hug that baby of yours," she answered.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Dixie," she answered shyly. "I hope you didn’t mind my jumping in and singing along, but I was so angry when I heard what he was saying to you . . . . . . . ." her voice faded out and, after a moment she added, "Real music always lives in your heart and soul. Never stop playing, OK?" Without waiting for a reply, she turned away and crossed the short distance back to the table at which she had been seated.

With a small sigh, she sat down, silent, hands clasped on the table in front of her. Kell started to say something, then stopped as he noticed the tears gathering in her sad eyes. He gently reached over and covered her hands with his own. After a moment or two, she quietly asked, "Are you angry?"

"Angry?" he asked, incredulous. "Why in the world would I be angry?"

"I’m sorry if I embarrassed you . . . . . . . ." she began.

"Embarrassed? Are you kidding? You were . . . . . . . ." Kell paused, looking for the right word, finally settling for ". . . . . . . . FANTASTIC!" She continued to look down at her hands, clasped on the table in front of her, and now covered by his.

"I didn’t know you sang, Dix," said Joe, putting his two cents worth into the conversation. Like Kell, he had been caught by surprise, but he had really enjoyed her singing and he was not too sure why Dixie was so sad now.

"Doesn’t everyone sing a little?"

Kell smiled and shook his head, still feeling a bit awed by the whole episode and genuinely surprised at her reaction. "That was definitely not just ‘singing a little,’ Dix. That was singing."

Embarrassed, she smiled, but did not look at him. "Guess that means maybe you enjoyed it?"

"Oh, yeah," he said emphatically, ". . . . . . . . just like every other person in the place!"

"I was just so angry," she said, by way of explanation. That man was going to fire the piano player simply because he didn’t recognize the songs." After a momentary pause, she added, "And he really plays such wonderful music . . . . . . . ."

"We kind of noticed that you were really enjoying the music," Kell teased her gently. He noted with satisfaction that his comment had rated a smile from her.

The manager brought their dinner himself. As he served her, he asked, "Would you like a job?"

Startled, she looked up at him. "I have a job."

"Where do you sing?" he asked, hoping it wasn’t anywhere nearby to draw his business away.

"I don’t; I’m a nurse," she said, brushing back a strand of hair.

"You’re kidding, right?"

As she shook her head to tell him she was not kidding, he continued, "Well, if you ever decide you would rather sing, you can have a job singing here any time you want . . . . . . . ."

Determined to make her point, she asked, "If I decided I wanted to sing, would the pianist still be here?"

"Of course," he replied without hesitation. "If that stuff he plays is what you really want to sing, then you can count on him being here to play it for you." Still hoping to change her mind, he added, "Sure you don’t want a singing job?"

Smiling, she dropped her gaze, shaking her head to say "no."

"Well, how about coming in once in a while just to sing for us?"

"That’s a great idea!" Kell interjected. He knew he definitely wouldn’t mind listening to her sing again, and he was certain that no one else would have any objections, either.

Dixie gave him a sharp look, but remained quiet and pensive.

"You’re welcome to come here and sing any time you want," the manager went on, pressing the point. "It wouldn’t have to be a regular job --- you could just come when you wanted to."

"Well, maybe I could do that," she answered quietly, a bit overcome with the sudden turn of events. "I really couldn’t do it too very often, but it might be fun once in a while . . . . . . . ."

They left it at that, then, and Dixie returned to her dinner in silence. Their meal was interrupted several times by people stopping by the table to tell her how much they had enjoyed her singing and she began to feel quite uncomfortable with the attention. But, she had to admit to herself, she had really enjoyed singing again . . . . . . . .

"So, are you going to tell us, or just leave us in suspense?" Joe asked her with a grin.

"Tell you what?"

"About the singing."

"There’s nothing to tell. I like to sing."

"There’s got to be more to it than that . . . . . . . ."

"I like music," she said emphatically. "Real music," she added.

Kell quietly observed the banter between them, but did not interrupt. If Dixie wanted to talk about it, she would. And if she didn’t, then she wouldn’t, regardless of how hard they might try to get her to tell them about it. Call it what you would, the truth of the matter was that Dixie could be very stubborn when she felt the need to be.

"I’ve always sung," she went on. "When I was in college, I used to sing at parties and things like that. But I didn’t want to be a singer --- I wanted to be a nurse. Besides," a momentary hesitation, then ". . . . . . . . music is something you do just for yourself. Real music is the stuff that lives in your heart and soul --- it’s a part of who you are . . . . . . . ." She let the thought drift off and did not seem inclined to add anything further.

"Well, I certainly enjoyed listening to you sing!" Joe declared. Kell nodded in agreement, resolving to remember to ask her about that last song when they were alone.

After a moment, she added, "I only did it to make a point to the manager so he wouldn’t fire the pianist." She took another bite of her salad, then concluded, "and that’s all there is to say about it. There just isn’t anything more." And that was where it ended --- for the time being, at any rate.

*****

Later, when they were finally home alone, Kell inquired hesitantly, "Dix, could I ask you something about today?"

"What about it?" she replied hesitantly, wondering if this was where she got to find out that he was not too happy about what she had done, after all.

"The last song that you sang at the restaurant, the one that had . . . . . . . ." he hesitated, trying to recall enough of the words she had sung to be able to give voice to the question he was trying to ask.

"It’s called Little Things Mean A Lot. I asked Dean to play it especially for you --- I thought you would like to hear it. I really didn’t mean anything particular by it when we were in San Francisco --- it’s just when you said ‘now and forever’ to me, the ‘always and ever’ just sort of popped out of my mouth." Glancing over at him, she hastily went on, "Not that I didn’t mean it . . . . . . . . I did and I do. But all that music is inside me, a part of who and what I am and when you said that, I didn’t even think about it --- it just kind of triggered the thought and it simply slipped out, sort of . . . . . . . ." The more she tried to explain, the more convoluted it seemed to get, so finally she abandoned the explanation and just looked at him helplessly.

Smiling, he softly said, "I thought those words sounded pretty familiar. I didn’t know it was a song, though, until you sang it for me. I guess that makes it our very own song now, huh?"

Tears filled her eyes as she smiled at him and gave him a hug. "I love you," she said, and proceeded to leave him with absolutely no doubt as to exactly what that meant.

*****

Dixie delighted in having Kell home again, and things quickly settled back into a normal routine. It was just after lunchtime on Friday when the doorbell rang. Dixie opened the door to find Joe standing on the porch with a package in his hands.

"Hi, Joe," she greeted him cheerfully. "Come on in." Kell, coming out of the kitchen with a mug of coffee in his hands, indicated he should sit down.

"What brings you this way today?" he asked.

"Two things," Joe replied. "Delivery service," he said, handing the package to Dixie, "and a quick trip over to Rampart."

"I thought you were off today, so why the trip to Rampart? Kell asked as Dixie fussed with the package.

"Just a brief consultation. How would you like to go along? Wouldn’t take more than a hour or so, travel time included."

"You’re on," Kell replied, leaping at the chance to combat his "I’ve-been-cooped-up-too-long" antsy-ness of the moment.

Full of curiosity, Dixie asked, "What’s this for?"

"Guess you’ll just have to open it up and see," Joe told her.

Puzzled, she unwrapped the package and removed the lid from the box. It was a baby book, with pages and pages of spaces to write in all that "before the baby arrived" stuff that moms-to-be seemed so fond of collecting. "Oh, Joe . . . . . . . ." she said, her eyes moist with tears as she gave him a hug.

Joe smiled at her. "Just be happy. OK?" After a moment, he continued, "By the way, did I tell you two that the hospital board actually rescinded that silly of policy of theirs --- the one about family members working in the same department?"

"You’re kidding! What made them smart enough to do that?"

"No clue, Dix," Joe responded. "It was up on the message board the day you . . . . . . . . went . . . . . . . . up to Oxnard."

"Well, they never should have established such a stupid policy in the first place," Dixie said emphatically. "I’m glad they were finally smart enough to get rid of it . . . . . . . ."

"Hey, Dixie," said Joe, changing the subject, "Why don’t you come with us? We’ll only be an hour or so --- you could help me keep an eye on this guy," he suggested, indicating Kell with a toss of his head, as he desperately tried to think of some excuse to get Kell and Dixie over to Rampart by two o’clock.

"Sure, why not?" said Dixie, puzzled by the invitation but not wanting to hurt his feelings.

Everything was ready, but Mike was still fretting. Joe had promised he would get Kell there, but until he actually saw them arriving, he was going to worry about pulling this off.

‘Hey, Doc," called Johnny cheerfully. "Is Dixie still sick or will she be here, too?"

Mike realized he did not know the answer to that question and started to suggest Johnny ask Betty or one of the other nurses. Changing his mind, he replied, "Don’t know, but I’ll find out," and headed off to find Betty himself.

She was busy helping to set out food on the table in the back of the room. Interrupting her task, Mike enquired, "Betty, is Dixie going to be here today?"

With a start, Betty replied guiltily, "I should have called her. I’m not sure she even knows about it. She’s been out all week, you know . . . . . . . ."

"Great!" exclaimed Mike in annoyance. "I’ll go call her right away and see if she feels up to coming over here for a while. She’ll be really upset if she misses out on being here for Kell’s welcome home bash . . . . . . . ." He headed off in the direction of the phone, then stopped, turned, and asked, "What’s the matter with her, anyway?"

Betty shrugged, indicating she had no idea, and Mike went off to make his call.

Intent on his mission, he practically ran into them as they emerged from the elevator.

"Hi, Mike," said Dixie brightly. "How are things around here?"

"Hi, Dix . . . . . . . ." Unnerved, he rambled on, "I was just on my way to call you . . . . . . . ." Suddenly realizing she was here and he didn’t have to call her, after all --- and that she was with Kell and Joe --- he stumblingly greeted the two doctors, "Hi, Joe . . . . . . . . Kell, it’s so good to see you. How are you?"

Dixie looked at him quizzically, but she set her puzzlement aside and turned her attention to the conversation at hand. Pleasantries exchanged, Mike was now rambling on, talking about a patient he had seen earlier in the day. As they talked, they walked slowly down the hall.

Johnny, peering out the door to see if Mike was coming back to answer his question, turned away from the door and excitedly announced, "He’s here! Here they come!"

Kell was absolutely stunned as they walked through the door and he was met with a barrage of warm greetings and cheerful choruses of "Welcome back!" Suddenly realizing Joe had been part of this very large conspiracy, he looked at his friend, smiled, and shook his head in amazement, overcome.

The festivities quickly moved into high gear, and everyone seemed to be having a wonderful time. Several of the hospital board members came by to talk with Kell and an easy comfortableness settled about the afternoon. With the customary ease of true friendship, casual conversations quickly became the dominant activity throughout the room.

With much effort, Kell managed to get around and talk with everyone there before settling down at a table near the door, still overwhelmed with the huge outpouring of concern and friendship. He had always known that Rampart was a special place, filled with special people, but this was something he truly had not expected. Touched by their efforts, he honestly had no idea how to properly thank them.

Mike came over, offering a cup of coffee, and sat down with him.

"I really don’t know what to say, Mike," he began. "All this is so incredible . . . . . . . ."

"It’s just our way of letting you know we’re glad you’re OK and back here where you belong," answered the young doctor sincerely.

Feeling a bit teary-eyed, Kell replied, "Thanks. You have no idea how much this means . . . . . . . . or how very glad I am to be back here . . . . . . . ."

Johnny and Roy came up at that moment, breaking the mood as they chattered away about how good it was to have Kell back at Rampart. He thanked them for their concern and remarked that he was glad that they had not been called out on some emergency and could be there. Mike took advantage of their arrival to go off in search of Dixie.

Seeing her at a nearby table, he headed in her direction.

Sitting by herself, Dixie looked around the room, filled with hospital staff and board members, paramedics, firemen, and other friends --- all there to let Kell know how much they cared --- and felt inundated by the outpouring of love and friendship for him. This was one if the things that set Rampart apart from every other place she had ever been --- and it was a nice feeling, a comfortable feeling, a family feeling. Suddenly, she felt very lucky to be here among these people and to count them as friends.

She looked up as Mike walked over and greeted her. "Hey, Dixie. Betty said you’ve been sick. I’m glad you were able to come today. How are you feeling?"

"Fine, Mike, thanks," she replied quietly. "Want to sit down?"

He joined her at the table, but she did not seem too inclined to continue the conversation.

"We sure missed you around here," he offered.

"Thanks," she smiled, still preoccupied. She remained silent, and Mike idly wondered if he ought to leave her alone with her thoughts.

His musings were interrupted as Joe came over and joined them. "You did a real fine job," Joe commended his younger colleague. "And Kell was definitely surprised," he added with a smile. "Everyone seems to be having a wonderful time, so I guess we can declare this operation a complete success!"

"Well, things certainly will be better down in Emergency now," Mike interjected. "With you and Kell both gone, and Dixie out sick, there were times we were really in a jam!"

Dixie and Joe exchanged glances, but said nothing further as Mike looked around the room and observed, "It sure is nice to see everyone relaxed and enjoying themselves . . . . . . . ."

Kell came over to join them then and they set about shifting chairs around the table to make room for everyone. "You look tired," Dixie observed softly.

"Nah," he said and, gesturing with his arm at the room full of people, added, "all this is just too . . . . . . . . fantastic." After a moment, he added, "It’s really good to be back . . . . . . . ."

Dixie excused herself to go in search of some ginger ale. As she walked across the room, Mike commented, "Do you think Dixie’s OK? She sure doesn’t seem to be herself --- Betty said she was sick, but . . . . . . . ."

"I’m sure she’s fine," responded Joe quickly, with a sidelong glance at Kell.

"I hope so," Mike acknowledged dubiously.

The conversation was interrupted by the sudden, unexpected sound of music. The three men looked around, seeking its source, and finally spied a piano in the corner of the room. One of the x-ray technicians was playing a lively tune, and several people had gathered around the piano to listen. Dixie returned with her soda, resumed her seat, and hummed softly to herself as she drifted into the music’s magic spell. Kell glanced at her, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, but he said nothing.

After a few minutes, Joe and Mike turned back to the table and the conversation turned to medical matters. Distracted, Dixie wandered over to stand near the piano.

"Good music, huh, Dix?" asked Johnny, coming up behind her.

"Ummm," she answered, still preoccupied.

"Hey, Carl," Johnny called out to the technician, "do you sing, too?"

"Not too well," he answered. "How about I play the music and you sing the song?"

"Not Johnny," joked Roy. "He has trouble carrying a tune in a basket!"

Everyone laughed, and, as Carl continued to play the song, Dixie wandered back to the table and sat down. Johnny and Roy followed her over, and pulled up chairs of their own.

"Something wrong, Dix?" asked Mike, noting the expression on her face.

"No," she answered, shaking her head, "not at all. It’s just a sad song."

Turning to listen to the music once more, the group was silent except for Dixie’s soft humming. Mike shrugged his shoulders, wondering why she thought the song was sad. Aloud, he said, "It doesn’t sound so sad . . . . . . . ."

Dixie looked at him and gently shook her head as Kell leaned over and softly said to her, "I guess this is one of those songs?"

"What songs?" she asked, momentarily confused.

"The ones that live inside," he answered.

She smiled, suddenly aware of just how closely he had listened to what she had said earlier about the music. Shyly, she said, "Yes, it’s a song called A Cottage For Sale."

"Somehow, that doesn’t sound very much like it ought to be sad . . . . . . . ."

"Hey, Dix," Johnny interrupted, "do you sing? Do you know that song?"

Caught off-guard, she looked up and said, "I know it . . . . . . . ."

"How about singing it, then?" Without waiting for her reply, Johnny called out, "Hey, Carl, Dixie knows your song. Why don’t you start over again and she can sing it for us?"

Dixie, panicked, looked at Kell, who mouthed, "I’m sorry," to her.

"Johnny," Kell began, "Dixie doesn’t want . . . . . . . ."

"No, no --- it’s OK," she interrupted. "I’ll sing it if they want," and she went over to stand by the piano. Kell followed her.

Nervous, and feeling very much put on the spot, Dixie fought the urge to simply bolt from the room. "These are your friends," she reminded herself silently as she gave herself an unspoken pep talk. "You can do this."

Carl looked at her doubtfully, raising his eyebrows and asking, "Are you sure you can sing this?"

She nodded her assent, and he muttered, "OK, here we go."

Dixie listened to the music, and began to sing:

Our little dream castle with every dream gone

As the last notes of the song faded away, the room was silent for several seconds. Then, the hush that had settled over the gathering was broken by choruses of, "Wow! That was really beautiful!" and "Gee, Dixie, I didn’t know you could sing!" [To which Dixie vehemently told herself just how much she disliked that particular old and tired remark that she had already heard just a bit too often in the past few days . . . . . . . .]

Carl, trying to make up for his earlier flip remark, asked, "Want me to play anything else for you?"

But Dixie, still uncomfortable being the center of attention and certainly not interested in being in the limelight, shook her head, "No." Kell walked by her side as she returned to the table. She smiled diffidently at Mike, saying, "It really is a sad song . . . . . . . ."

"It may be a sad song," said Mike, his voice filled with wonder, "but you sure made it sound beautiful."

"Thanks," said Dixie quietly. Carl had returned to playing, and the others had gathered around again, starting up an informal sort of sing-along. Dixie heaved a sigh of relief, grateful to be out of the spotlight.

"That was really nice," said Kell quietly, smiling at her. Suddenly, a thought struck him, and he leaned over to whisper something to her. They talked quietly for a couple of minutes, then Dixie smiled and shrugged her shoulders.

Joe looked at them curiously, then joked, "Are the two of you planning a revolution?"

Dixie, looking for all the world like a little kid with her hand caught in the cookie jar, smiled apologetically and looked down at the table while Kell laughed and said, "Just talking about the song . . . . . . . ."

Johnny came back over to the table and said, "Doc, the next time you need to go somewhere like that, why don’t you let one of us go with you? That way, we can be sure nothing happens to you!"

Mike laughed and went over to refill his cup of coffee. Kell looked up at Johnny in amusement and asked, "Do you think I need to be watched over, John?"

"No, not exactly. I mean, well, maybe just a little . . . . . . . ." he stammered. "I mean . . . . . . . . ummm, it’s just that . . . . . . . . well, we sure don’t want anything like that to happen to you again," he finished lamely as he struggled to find a way to extricate himself from the conversation.

Everyone laughed, and Kell kindly responded, "Thanks for the thought, Johnny. I promise to be more careful in the future. OK?"

"Well, sure . . . . . . . . I mean, yeah," Johnny stammered, wishing the conversation would come to an end. Maybe the floor could swallow him up or something . . . . . . . . Somehow, what he meant to say was not quite what he said, but he knew that, under all the bantering laughter, Kelly Brackett really understood what he meant, even if he didn’t say it quite right.

Dixie took pity on him and rescued him by saying, "We’ll all take turns looking out for him, Johnny, OK?" At that, everyone smiled and the conversation drifted off to more hospital talk. Gratefully, Johnny smiled at Dixie as he hastily went off to find his partner.

"Guess everyone thinks I need to have a keeper to look after me now," remarked Kell in a sad sort of way.

Dixie reached over to take his hand as Joe replied, "No, not really." After a moment, he smiled and laughingly added, "That’s what you have a wife for!"

Mike, coming back to the table with his coffee, arrived just in time to hear Joe’s comment, and exclaimed, "What?!"

Startled, Joe turned around. "Oops. Sorry," he said quietly.

As Mike sat down, he looked at Kell and asked, "Since when?"

Kell thought a moment, then answered honestly, "About four and a half months ago, give or take a day or two . . . . . . . ."

"And you didn’t say anything?!"

"Obviously not," he answered with a smile.

"Why the big secret?"

"Notice he has a million questions, but not one of them is ‘who?’ Do you suppose that means anything?" asked Joe with a laugh.

Mike looked between Joe and Kell, then at Dixie, who was dissolved in laughter. He said, "OK, I give up. Tell me about it or don’t tell me about it --- your choice."

"Well, if I have a choice . . . . . . . ." teased Kell with a laugh. Then he turned serious and said, "It was only that silly board policy that kept us from telling everyone. Otherwise, we’d have had to find a way to keep Emergency running without Dixie, which was not a very appealing prospect . . . . . . . ."

Looking from Kell to Dixie and back again, Mike sputtered, "You mean . . . . . . . ."

"Uh-huh."

"Gee." Then, as it began to sink in, "Wow! Congratulations!"

"Thanks, Mike," said Kell as Dixie smiled.

Absently, he remarked, "It all makes sense now . . . . . . . ."

"Glad to know that," teased Dixie with a little laugh. "Now, if you tell just one other person," she continued conspiratorially, "the hospital grapevine will make sure the entire world knows all about it in just over two seconds flat!"

"There’s a novel idea," marveled Joe. "Get the rumor mill to announce it for you. Think it’ll get the facts right for once?"

*****

"Dix?"

"Hmmmm?"

"Are you upset about today?"

"Why should I be?" she inquired softly. "It was really nice to have everyone welcome you back like that. There are a lot of good people at Rampart, and we’re lucky to have them as friends."

"That’s for sure," Kell agreed emphatically. "But I was thinking about the singing and about everyone finding out about us being married . . . . . . . ."

"Well, I really didn’t want to sing at first, but A Cottage For Sale is one of my favorite songs, and I did enjoy singing it once I got started." She paused to reflect, then teasingly added, "I guess it turned out OK . . . . . . . . no one threw tomatoes at me or anything!"

"And Mike overhearing Joe’s remark and knowing about us being married?" he prompted.

"Right from the very beginning we said that we would tell everyone when the board got rid of that stupid policy," she reminded him. "Besides, I happen to like being married to you, and I don’t mind if everyone knows it!"

His response was that smile, she noticed with pleasure, and as she continued brushing her hair, she added, "Actually, it all worked out pretty well, I think." With a soft smile playing across her lips, she concluded, "The hospital rumor mill will be kept busily humming for days!"

"Yeah, I guess so," he agreed, laughing. "And I bet this will turn out to be the only time in history that the good old Rampart Hospital rumor mill actually gets the story right!" After a momentary pause, he thoughtfully added, "Or maybe it won’t . . . . . . . . just how messed up do you suppose the facts could get?" he asked in his most serious doctor voice.

Dropping the hairbrush, she looked at him in absolute dismay. His eyes twinkled and, as he began to snicker, she realized he was just teasing her. Laughing, she walked over to the bed, picked up a pillow, and threw it at him.

Still laughing, he reached over to take her hand and gently pulled her down next to him. "Besides," he said softly, putting his arms around her and pulling her into a hug, "it’s probably better if the news gets out now, because before too long, everyone is going to know about the baby . . . . . . . ."

She smiled at him, interrupting his musings with a kiss . . . . . . . . with every sigh I become more mad about you, more lost without you . . . . . . . . and so it goes . . . . . . . .