All characters belong to Janet Evanovich. Completely Babe. Rated M for mature content, intense emotional content and bittersweet angst with a happy ending. This is a one shot from the 4th of July 2009 Perfectly Plum challenge. All mistakes in the depictions of injuries and consequent rehabilitation procedures are mine. All grammatical/spelling/colloquialism mistakes are mine as well. The title, quotation and inspiration are from "I'm Already There/Message from Home" by LoneStar.

The Whisper in the Wind

"I'm the beat in your heart/I'm the moonlight shining down/I'm the whisper in the wind/And I'll be there 'til the end/ Can you feel the love that we share?/Oh I'm already there."

Stephanie Plum took a sip of her morning coffee and rocked idly in the wicker chair. The runners squeaked softly against the oak planks of the porch, a rhythmic counterpoint to the metal wind chimes singing in the dawn breeze. The sun itself was little more than a promise yet, a gilding of gold and glory on the ridge of hills beyond the barn, and the air was still cool and comfortable for the first part of July.

She took another sip, reveling in the quiet. Her other hand dropped over the arm to riffle through the fur of the aging blonde dog lying beside her chair. Bob gave a blissful sigh and rolled so her fingers were over his stomach, scratching that perpetually itchy spot all dogs seemed to have. He sighed again and relaxed, resting up for the full day ahead. All too soon the growing light would rouse the occupants of the house and the thunder of footsteps would break the stillness as the girls charged downstairs to get the day of celebrations started.

A faint smile lifted her lips as her mind paused over the perverse and tangled road that led to this life, toying with the memory of the changes wrought in the past five years. No longer a Bombshell Bounty Hunter, or a carefree single woman with too many men in her life, she was more a housewife than even the Burg could imagine, and the mother to three girls who desperately needed a lifeline when their world imploded.

A delicate chime sounded through the open window above the porch, and Steph swallowed the rest of her coffee as she kicked to her feet. That was Angie's alarm clock; as the eldest, she took her chores seriously and set her alarm early so she could get through hers and have time to help either Lisa or Mary Alice. Usually it was Lisa in most need of help. She took after her father's side of the family, and even at the robust age of six, her short legs made carrying feed for the chickens a long trudge from the barn to the henhouse.

Bob watched from his prone position, well aware that the porch was the furthest he was allowed. Too many encounters with skunks and questionable smelly substances kept him outside in warm weather. He didn't lack for company, as the girls spent as much of their time out of doors. He was quite willing to snatch a few more moments of rest, and wait for the adventures to begin.

The screen door squeaked open under her firm tug, and Steph automatically stuck her foot out behind her to catch it so it wouldn't slam. She rinsed the mug and set it aside for later. After the girls were out the door to the village's annual 4th of July picnic, she would take the time for a second coffee break with Carlos. On normal days, mid morning was when his therapist took a break to switch from physical conditioning to speech rehabilitation, and the quiet time helped him make the transition with a minimum of fuss. With the celebration later today, including the fireworksafter dark, the session would be a short one so Carlos could go with everyone else to the village green.

Steph set out the frying pan for the bacon and eggs, and quickly grabbed the ingredients for the omelets out of the refrigerator. By the time Angie came downstairs, the smell of bacon and toast filled the air. She sniffed the air appreciatively, then hugged Steph around the waist before moving to get the plates and glassware for the table.

"You ready for the fun today?" asked Steph.

Angie shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so. Chelsea Haynes is going to bring her book on Marco Polo for me to borrow, and Mr. Riggs said we could help set up the carnival games for the younger kids."

"So what's keeping you from smiling?" Steph poured out the orange juice and started dicing the bacon. The silence from the other side of the kitchen had her turning around to see Angie staring out the window over the sink at the rolling hills.

"Mama Steph," she said in a small voice, "it was five years ago today. I just . . . keep thinking about how things could have been different."

Tears stung at her eyes, and Steph had to blink rapidly to keep them from falling. She'd cried enough in the last five years to fill the ocean, and if she started now the whole day would be shot. For the girls' sakes and for Carlos, she wouldn't give in to that weakness.

"I know one big difference," she said. Angie turned to look at her, and Steph forced herself to smile. "I'd decided back then that I had a new philosophy, that I was only going to dread one day at a time. You girls have given me a new one. Each day is a new adventure, and a new chance to live."

That got a smile from Angie, although it was rather watery. Steph opened her arms. "C'mere, you. Mama Steph needs a hug."

Angie hugged her hard around the waist, squeezing with all of the desperation of a little girl remembering that awful day too well. Steph leaned down and planted a soft kiss on the top of her head, cradling her thin shoulders as she tried to lend her every bit of strength she possessed.

It's not fair, she thought, rocking slightly back and forth in a soothing rhythm. It's not fair that their childhood was ripped away from them like that.

Angie was the first to draw back. She rubbed her sleeve across her eyes and gave a slight sniff. "Thanks, Mama Steph. I've had that inside of me since last night, and I didn't know if I should even be thinking about it at all."

"Of course you should think about it. Remembering them is like sending your mom and dad a postcard in Heaven. Just remember the good, and treasure every moment they were here." The rumble of feet overhead made Steph glance upwards and share a smile with Angie. "Better get going on the chores. Breakfast will be ready in twenty minutes."

"Right." Angie grabbed her barn jacket from the hook beside the laundry room and went to meet her sisters as they thundered down the stairs. Mary Alice hadn't changed much; her best speed was fast forward, and Lisa tried desperately to keep up with her much-idolized sister. Angie dodged Mary Alice's headlong rush and wrapped Lisa into a hug as she shot past, swinging the little girl around until she shrieked. That set Bob to barking outside, and the girls hurried into the strengthening morning light to do chores.

Steph looked after them for a moment, her own smile fading slightly before she set to work making the omelets and toast. She diced early onions and added a precious red pepper that survived the late spring frost and her native impatience. A little bit of ham and some bacon, and it was filling enough to keep the girls going through most of the day. She set those plates in the oven to stay warm, and whipped up an egg white omelet for Carlos with some vegetables she'd scored at the farmer's market midweek. He'd never complained through the first year of her learning curve on the farm, and she always took special care with his food to make up for some of the spectacular disasters he'd eaten without complaint.

She slid the omelet onto the plate and added it to the ones already in the oven. She was straightening from the refrigerator when she heard the door to the back stairs open. "Hey, Jerry. Do you think—"

Steph froze as she turned around, the tub of lox tumbling from nerveless fingers. Carlos leaned against the edge of the door, completely dressed in black and looking extremely hot. He crossed his arms over his chest and gave her a faint smile. "B-b-b-ba—" He stopped, his forehead creased in concentration.

"Relax," came the soft command from the living room door. Jerry paused just inside the kitchen and gave him an encouraging smile. "Just like we practiced, Carlos. Take a deep breath and relax."

Carlos nodded to his personal care assistant and took a deep breath. "B-b-ba-ba—" The rest of his breath came out in a noise of frustration, and Steph moved before she could think. She crossed the distance separating them, her eyes never leaving his. She stopped in front of him and put her hands on his forearms as she lifted herself on tiptoes so her lips were mere inches from his.

"You sexy, gorgeous man," she said, her grin breaking out to match the elation in her heart. Steph gave him a lingering kiss, and her heart gave a painful lurch when he bent his head and kissed her back. After the long months of treasuring each muscle twitch and eye track, to have him responding like the old days was more precious than the next beat of her heart.

Instinctively she parted her lips, inviting him to play, and a shiver coursed through her as he ran the tip of his tongue across her teeth. Her fingers tightened on his arms, and he pushed off the doorway to slide his hands to the small of her back. He deepened the kiss even further, plundering her mouth with a sweet slowness that lit a familiar warmth deep in her soul.

For that long, glorious moment, the past slid away from her mind and Steph focused on nothing but the man she followed through fire. She pressed herself against him, clutching his shirt with trembling hands as she kissed him with everything she had.

It wasn't until Carlos leaned into her that Steph realized that the fine tremor in his body wasn't all from passion. Quickly she broke off the kiss and wedged her shoulder under his, bracing her feet to bear his weight.

"Sorry, Carlos," Steph said as she tried to catch her breath. "You haven't lost the ability to scramble my brains with just a kiss."

That earned her a soft kiss to her temple, and she shook her head at the twinkle in his dark eyes. Carlos knew he still had the power to awaken the passionate fire inside her; he was the only man who could set her ablaze with a single touch or look.

Jerry slid a large hand under his elbow on the other side to take some of the weight off Steph, and Carlos shifted his feet as he fought to regain his balance. Steph placed a light hand on his stomach, soothing away the tension that always locked up his muscles and made the fight so much tougher. But Carlos—Ranger—didn't fight to lose, and Steph didn't believe in surrender. The silent battle went on for about a minute, then he drew a shaky breath and leaned hard on them both.

"You okay?" asked Steph, and he nodded, the beads of sweat slicking his hair to his forehead. Steph smiled up at him and brushed the hair back, letting her palm rest against his cheek for a brief moment. "Want to sit down? The girls should be in from chores soon."

Again the nod, and Jerry brought the sturdy pronged cane from where it leaned just inside the stairway. It was an ugly thing, something that Carlos refused to upgrade to a more elegant or chic model. He didn't want to like it, or think that it enhanced his image any. The uglier, the better—he wouldn't miss it when it was no longer needed, and it motivated him to get rid of it all the sooner.

Steph waited until he had a sturdy grip on the cane before sliding out from her position. With Jerry to steady him on the other side, Carlos was able to make the painfully slow trek across the kitchen to the table. Steph kept her hands and her concerns to herself the entire time; one thing she'd learned early was too much coddling irritated him to no end, and any hint of pity or overprotectiveness met with a sharp rebuff. He was still a very proud man, and she kept that fact well in mind. Her part was to make sure he felt like a man, and the one man in all of the world that she loved. She teased him and told him jokes; when she needed strength, she turned to him first. In every part of her life, Steph included Carlos and made sure that he never felt like he was a burden or a charity case.

Once Jerry settled Carlos into the sturdy Amish chair at the head of the table, he fetched the mini laptop and set it on a holder that hung off the edge of the table. It kept the table from being overcrowded and the keyboard well within reach for Carlos. The quiet hum of the processor rose in the kitchen as the LED screen blinked with the boot up information.

"Jerry, are you eating breakfast with us?" asked Steph as she went back to the refrigerator to retrieve the lox and the glass bottle of fresh milk. "I have enough omelets to go around."

The personal care assistant shook his head. "No, thanks. I'm going to tidy up the room and head out. Sandra is coming early, and Hal will cover if you need brute muscle. Carlos, I'll be back tonight. You need anything, text me. I can be back from town in minutes."

No problem. The electronic voice spoke from the laptop as Carlos tapped out the words. His fingers danced over the keys with skilled ease. Hal can help later.

"Just don't let him operate the lift without supervision," said Jerry, waggling his eyebrows. "The man's been playing with too many hay bale elevators to be trusted with human cargo."

I trust Steph.

"You're forgetting the time I jammed the van lift last winter. You were sitting outside in the middle of a snowstorm until I could find enough muscle to get your chair off." She set the omelet in front of him and put the lox and toasted bagel to the side where he could reach it.

Babe.

Steph put her hands on her hips and gave him the look right back. "Your lips were turning blue, Carlos. Don't tell me you enjoyed shivering."

Had fun warming up.

"Oh." She blushed and glanced quickly at Jerry, who gave her a big grin. "Um, I'm going to just—"

The screen door slammed and she silently blessed whatever guardian angel rescued her from the embarrassment this time. Jerry moved to one side as Mary Alice barreled through the doorway and skidded to a stop by the table, Lisa hard on her heels. Angie followed at a more sedate pace, carrying the wire basket of eggs. She put them on the counter and gave Steph a quick hug on her way past to the table. By the time Steph brought out the orange juice and omelets, breakfast was in full swing. Jerry checked Carlos one last time before excusing himself upstairs.

Steph took the chair at the other end of the table and looked at her little family. Mary Alice and Lisa were on her right, on the built in bench along the wall. Angie sat on the other side where she could either fetch missing food or help Carlos if needed. Either Jerry or Hal often filled the other chair on that side, depending on whether the former had plans during his offshift and the latter was doing fieldwork.

A warm little hand slid into hers, and Steph smiled at Lisa. "You ready, moppet?" she asked, and the girl nodded. Around the table, everyone joined hands and bowed their heads. Angie scooted over so Carlos didn't have to reach, and the sight of her hand disappearing into his never failed to give Steph a catch in the throat. He smiled at her, the ESP kicking in like old times. Then Lisa's high treble voice broke the moment, and Steph bowed her head as their youngest said the meal's grace.

The last echoed Amen had barely faded when the questions and excited chatter began. Mary Alice told Steph about the carnival set up on the village green, and how they were promising a real, live roller coaster this year. That set off a low-key argument between Angie and Mary Alice as to what constituted a 'real' roller coaster.

Steph stayed out of the conversation as much as possible, instead opting to cut Lisa's food into bite sized pieces and make sure everyone had enough to eat. It was only when she turned to her own food that she realized the table had fallen silent.

She looked around the table and found herself the subject of three pairs of eyes. Two were anxious, waiting for her response. The dark gaze from the opposite end of the table was two-thirds amused and a third speculative.

"What?" she asked, when no one seemed incline to enlighten her.

"The fireworks, Mama Steph," said Mary Alice. "Are we going to stay for the fireworks show this year?"

Carlos gave a tiny shrug, letting her know that he was okay with whatever she decided. Last year he'd tired too quickly during the picnic, and they had come home before sunset. This year, Steph consulted his therapists and adjusted the schedule so he would have enough stamina to last.

"Yeah, we're going to try," she said, and was nearly deafened by Mary Alice's cheer. Steph held up a hand. "Depending on how everyone is doing. I don't want anyone to get too tired or overheated, so pace yourselves at the carnival."

"I'll keep an eye on them," said Angie. "I'll make sure they behave."

Steph smiled at her. "Thanks, honey. I want you to have fun, too. Kate will be watching Lisa. If you want to hang out with your friends, just let her know, okay?"

"Sure, Mama Steph." Angie cleaned the last bit of omelet off her plate with a neat swipe of her fork, and pushed back from the table. "May I be excused? I want to change before Mrs. Tucker gets here."

Go ahead, Carlos typed. See me before you leave. You're in charge of the ride and food fund today.

The girls hesitated and darted a glance at Steph. She smiled and nodded, although she hadn't known he was going to make the offer. "It's okay, Angie. Hurry up and change. Mary Alice, follow your sister. I'll get Lisa washed up in a few minutes."

Both girls bolted, clearing the dishes and dumping them in the sink. Steph winced slightly as the dishes clattered in the ceramic basin, but managed to bite her tongue. She remembered the exciting anticipation of a day of fun, and she wanted the girls to enjoy the freedom.

For a long moment Steph stared at her own half-eaten food, then sighed. She cleared both her plate and Lisa's, then brought back a cup of coffee for Carlos. Leaning over him, she gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "Will you be all right if I get Lisa ready?"

Be fine. Go.

"Thanks," she said. She put a flat panel on the table next to his plate. "There's the panic button just in case. I shouldn't be more than a few minutes."

Go.

She whisked Lisa out of her chair, the little girl laughing as they whirled around the kitchen until she had her tucked into her arms and was carrying her up the stairs. Some people might hint that she indulged the little girl, carrying her too much and lavishing attention on her, but Steph felt that it was necessary. Lisa had very limited memories of her mother and father. In place of the memories she should have had, Steph wanted to give her some that were at least on par.

It took only the promised few minutes to get Lisa changed from her chore clothes into a pair of sturdy jeans and a flowered t-shirt. By the time she tied the last careful bow on her neon pink sneakers, Angie was standing in the hall brushing her hair and Mary Alice was rooting through her closet looking for her favorite outfit.

"Mama Steph!" she yelled, her voice muffled in the depths of the closet. "Where's my black RangeMan shirt?"

"Wash!" Steph called back. "The horse sneezed on you, remember?"

"But I wanted to wear it." Mary Alice appeared in the doorway, clutching a gray t-shirt. "It makes me look bad ass."

"Language," said Steph, giving Lisa a finger bump on her nose. "There you go, moppet. Run downstairs and keep a look out for Mrs. Tucker. Stay on the porch!" she called as Lisa darted out of the room.

Angie came out of her room. "I'll watch her," she said and followed her youngest sister down the stairs.

Steph steered Mary Alice back to her room. "Let's see what we can find that looks more like a summer picnic than a biker rally, okay?"

Ten minutes later, Steph stood on the porch waving to the dust cloud that was Kate Tucker's SUV as it sped down the driveway. She paused at the top of the steps, thankful once again that the Tuckers lived the next farm over. Kate generously looked after a hapless city girl that first year, answering frantic calls about frozen water pipes and sickly chickens. Her two girls guided Angie and Mary Alice through the insular social scene of the small town and helped them hold their own.

Farm life didn't leave a lot of time for fun and games, but having friends nearby made it easier for those days when the golden summer sunshine begged for a trip to the swimming pond. Kate was always good for a day of watching the girls, and Steph had introduced her to the joys of an empty house by reciprocating. Now they traded kids as easily as long time friends, and Steph felt like she'd known the Tuckers her entire life.

She chuckled to herself as she went back inside. Many things were a part of her life now that she would have never imagined five years ago. There were also many things behind her that she never thought she would survive, until she did.

As she entered the kitchen, she saw that Carlos had moved his laptop to the table and pushed the empty dishes back to give himself room. He typed two-handed, his gaze focused on the screen as the words flowed across.

"Need more coffee?" she asked, grabbing his plates and cup. "There's still a half pot."

Please. Tank wants the Wright proposal by 9. Slave driver.

She filled his cup and brought it back. "Maybe you should tell the boss. I hear he's pretty reasonable."

He's even worse.

Steph couldn't help herself. She bent down so she was right next to him and waited. When he stopped typing and slowly turned his head, she captured his lips with a soul-searing kiss, trying to let him feel everything that she couldn't put into words. His hand came up to cradle the back of her head, and she shifted a bit to get more comfortable.

A throat cleared behind them, and Carlos drew back reluctantly. His dark eyes searched hers, and Steph gave him the slow grin that conveyed equal parts of lust, humor and love. His lips twitched, then he typed out a question to the interloper.

Don't you have goats to milk?

Hal chuckled, leaning against the back door and looking sinfully delicious in his jeans and blue work shirt. "Nice try, boss. Finished the goats by sun up and I've already taken the milk to the creamery. They'll have it processed and ready for pickup in two days, Steph. Nan Keating said they're backed up due to the holiday."

"Thanks, Hal." Steph straightened but kept her hand on Carlos's shoulder. She felt him lean into her touch, and tightened her fingers in a gentle caress. "Have you had breakfast yet?"

"Still trying to feed me up?" he shot back, grinning. Even though it had been a while since he'd worked for RangeMan's Trenton office, he hadn't lost any of his bulk. Between wrestling reluctant dairy goats and heavy hay bales, he'd added muscle that inspired envy in his former coworkers. "Thanks, Steph, but I ate before dawn. Figured I would get the regular chores out of the way so I could work on the tractor. The engine's still missing when it starts up. Unless Carlos needs me, I was going to fix it this morning."

Go ahead. Working with Sandra all morning. Won't need help until mid afternoon.

"Sure thing." Hal gave them both a nod and went out again. He passed by the back window on his way to the machine shed, whistling a clear rendition of Yankee Doodle Dandy.

A light touch on her hand drew her attention back to Carlos, and she shivered as he brushed his fingers across the back of her hand. Swiftly, she pressed her lips against his ear, blowing gently across the sensitive skin until he shuddered.

"Playing with fire," she whispered, and nipped at his lobe. "I love you, Carlos."

His hand slipped from hers, and he tapped a couple of keys on his laptop. Love you, Babe.

She gave him another kiss on his ear, and went back to the sink to wash up the breakfast dishes. The only sound in the kitchen was the clink of the plates and the tapping of the keyboard at the table. A wren sang in the tree outside the window, and the chimes tinkled in the breeze as the sunlight danced through the leaves. The smells born on the air were the ones she associated most with early July: the crisp brown smell of drying grass and the humid, earthy aroma of fresh tilled dirt in the garden. Occasionally she caught the faintest hint of geranium and clematis from the flowers growing in pots around the yard, and the clean freshness of the lilies of the valley planted along the foundation by Albert's maiden aunt.

The low purr of a car engine grew louder, and Steph craned her neck to catch the little bit of the driveway visible from the window. A red car pulled in slowly, and Bob gave his greeting bark from the porch. Steph wiped her hands on the flour sacking dish towel and tossed it on the counter.

"Sandra's here, Carlos," she said as she headed for the front door to greet the therapist. "I'll stall her for a few minutes if you want to finish the report."

Sandra was visible on the porch as Steph walked through the living room. She stood just outside the screen door, ruffling Bob's ears with the indulgence of long-acquaintance as the yellow dog whined his excitement and his tail thumped against the floorboards. At barely five foot tall in sneakers, Sandra was a dark blonde, brown-eyed dynamo who knew how to push Carlos hard through his rehab sessions. However much he demanded of himself, she was skilled and experienced enough to structure each session so he made the maximum amount of progress possible. Where he rushed things that needed time, she diverted his attention to other goals. Where he lagged behind, she pointed him straight at the obstacle and booted him over.

"How's it going, Steph?" asked Sandra as she gave Bob's ears a last rub. "Is it a good morning for you?"

She grinned. "Well, nothing has exploded yet. I made breakfast, the girls did chores and Carlos is in the kitchen. So far, it's been a pretty good day."

Sandra brushed her hands off on her jeans. "From the grin that keeps slipping out, I'd say it's better than 'pretty good'. What's the scoop on my star patient?"

"He surprised me this morning," said Steph. She moved to the far edge of the porch, away from the open windows. Carlos was still blessed with preternaturally keen ears, and she didn't want him to hear this part. "I didn't hear the stair lift, so when the back door opened I thought it was Jerry. Dropped the lox when I turned around and saw him leaning against the doorway."

"Sounds like he got the effect he was looking for," Sandra observed. She rested a hip on the railing, watching with an assessing look as Steph tried to wipe the grin off her face.

"Oh, yeah. Bad ass to the nth degree, and looking more edible than any man should." She stopped, looking down at the floor. "He tried to say 'babe'. It was his nickname for me from . . . before. I've read the books. I know the 'B' sound is one of the easier ones. He was so frustrated because he couldn't say it."

Sandra studied her for a moment, then reached out and laid a hand on Steph's arm. "Don't worry about it, Steph. Nerve damage takes months to repair; the re-growth rate is measured in microns, not inches. Each micron has to be re-taught how to work with the rest of the nerves and muscles. What we're doing now is building that muscle memory the same way babies do. Carlos may feel self-conscious about the exercises, but he's making very significant progress. Just keep supporting him and letting him know how proud you are of him. That man would walk through fire for one of your smiles."

"Ditto," said Steph, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall. She wiped at her eyes with her fingers, and gave a shaky laugh. "I love him so much, and when I see him looking like he used to, it just makes me realize how much we could have lost. He almost didn't make it back, Sandra."

Her fingers tightened on Steph's forearm. "You have to let go of the past. Carlos is here, and he's getting better. Dwelling on what might have been is more useless than curling up in bed and pulling the covers over your ears. Be thankful for what you've regained, and don't waste time fearing what didn't happen."

"When you put it that way, it sounds pretty stupid," she said. A sigh escaped her. "You're right. I've been tying myself into knots worrying and I didn't realize that I was worrying over what didn't go wrong instead of being grateful for what went right."

"There were a lot of things that did, you know. All the way down the line, from the seconds after the attack to the surgical team on duty at Bagram. All of it came together in the perfect storm to keep him alive and give him the best chance to recover." Sandra straightened. "Now, enough with the stalling. Can I get to work with my patient or is he still trying to finish a report that should have been done last week?"

"Tank's hollering about the Wright account," Steph said. "I told Carlos I'd stall."

"You need to work on your technique." Sandra gave Bob a last pat on the head as she went by. "I can hear his keyboard all the way out here, and I'm highly motivated today. Cheri Mansoner is bringing her family's potato salad to the picnic. I've been trying to get the recipe for ages. The earlier I get there, the more time I have to work her over for it."

Steph held the door open. "I've been around here long enough to know I'm not standing between you and Cheri's recipe."

"Smart woman." Sandra preceded her into the house and led the way to the kitchen. After fourteen long months of almost daily work with Carlos, she was as familiar with the layout as she was with her own apartment. "Hey, Carlos! Ready to get to work?"

Steph didn't stall long enough, he typed, bending lower over the laptop.

"She stalled long enough for me to smell the rotten fish," said Sandra. "Sign off or I'll tell Tank you're skipping therapy sessions again. You really want to have him pull the plug on your access?"

I'm surrounded by slave drivers.

"Don't you forget it." She waited with scarcely concealed impatience until he powered down the laptop and slid it onto the holder. "Where should we work today? It's so nice that I think we should take it out doors."

"The back porch is open," said Steph as she hovered by the sink. Once Sandra morphed into the therapist role, she really didn't care to intrude on their time together. This was where Carlos fought his battles these days, and Steph was more than a little impatient when she couldn't even lend her moral support.

She barely saw his head move in a negative shake, and Sandra glanced at her and winked. "How about the gazebo? I haven't seen it since Hal put in the ramp."

That got a nod from Carlos, and Steph fetched the chair. It was parked in the laundry room off the kitchen, the only place on the first floor where it wouldn't be tripped over on a regular basis. She positioned it next to him so he could slide into it without worrying about over balancing. As always, Sandra was there to guide him, and Steph stayed close by in case a little extra muscle was needed. He made the transfer with practiced ease, and Sandra buckled him in.

The electric motor hummed to life and the chair jerked. Carlos adjusted his right hand on the roller ball control and the chair rolled forward smoothly.

"We'll be back in around noon," said Sandra as she held open the back screen door. "If Tank calls, tell him I won't allow any interruptions. He can damn well wait his turn."

Steph rolled her eyes automatically. "Yeah, I'm going to tell Tank that." There was what sounded suspiciously like a laugh from Carlos, but he was already out the door and she didn't have the heart to nit pick.

She waited until she could no longer hear the chair before she went over to the laptop lying on the table and flipped the cover open. The dark screen mocked her with the emptiness of the nights she'd spent by his bedside in the ICU, listening to the machines breathe for him and the agonizingly slow beep of his heart rate. Minutes blurred into the hours that blurred into days, and each one was measured by the rasp-hiss of the ventilator.

Her thoughts ran around in circles, chasing the worry like a dog after a cat. Steph teetered back and forth between committing to his rehab and agonizing that she was keeping him alive for her own selfish reasons. She watched each visitor with fanatical attention, hunting for a clue as to what she should do. The Merry Men kept their faces blank, only dropping them long enough to murmur words of encouragement to the comatose man. His family was more open, but even they refused to lighten her burden. Instead, she had to make the decision for herself, and after hours of praying with his hand clasped tightly in hers, Steph chose to fight for as long as he needed her. When his eyes drifted open the first time and tracked unerringly to her face, she knew for the first time that she'd chosen right.

With a sigh, she closed the computer and went to finish cleaning the eggs. That would take her about an hour, then she would have to find other chores that wouldn't take her outside. Like Sandra said, Carlos was a little self-conscious about the work he did in the sessions. It was easier on him and his pride if he didn't know that she could hear him. So every day she tried to find something that would keep her out of earshot. And each day she wondered if she would ever hear his warm, beautiful voice again.

***

Her middle finger twitched. Not a big twitch, more like a little tremor that ran from the first knuckle to the nail. It was slow, too, which boded ill for the next time she drove into the City and couldn't yell her Hungarian-tempered Italian opinion at an idiot who thought the middle of the street was a parking lot.

The current traffic problem was the dog who thought the street was a Tempur-Pedic Sleep Number bed with goose down pillows. Her breath huffed out as Steph debated hitting the horn and scaring the slumbering Irish Water Spaniel out of a half year's growth.

Babe.

She flicked her eyes to meet his in the rear view mirror, and gritted her teeth when she saw the amusement. "Fine," she said, and threw the van into park. Just as she opened her door and stepped out, the spaniel perked up and took off in the direction of home.

Steph narrowed her eyes and breathed in through her nose, trying to keep the steam from shooting out of her ears. The Dierson spaniel was a local fixture, although one could never quite predict which street he would choose for his afternoon nap. Between him and the flock of kamikaze geese haunting the downtown scenic pond, her trips into the village usually resembled the outtake reel from Wild Kingdom.

Another deep breath, released slowly through her mouth, and Steph was calm enough to climb behind the wheel without exploding. She kept her head high and her eyes averted from the mirror so she wouldn't see Carlos smile at her. If she even once admitted that this was funny, she would never hear the end of it from her family.

She put the van into drive and nudged the accelerator. Normally this street had a 25 mile per hour speed limit, but with the carnival and picnic in full swing, the foot traffic would be exponentially higher than normal, and not everyone would be watching for oncoming cars. Her already slow speed dropped even lower the closer she came to the green. By the time she reached the reserved parking spaces, she was riding the brake and on high alert for the next unexpected move by a pedestrian.

When she finally put the van into park, the sigh that escaped her was deep and heartfelt. She grabbed her string shoulder bag packed with anything Hal thought she might need in an emergency and went around the front of the van just as Carlos opened the side door and maneuvered his chair into the automatic lift.

This part of the process used to make her feel horribly self-conscious, especially in large crowds. The lift moved slowly as it transferred Carlos and his chair from the van to ground level, and it stuck more often than not in cold weather. Today, she kept her gaze on Carlos to distract herself from the lift's snail crawl pace. He looked right back at her, his eyes darkly eloquent with all the things he couldn't yet say. By the time the platform was level with the sidewalk, Steph was flushed and feeling like the July sun had grown twenty degrees hotter. She gasped and fanned herself when she thought he wasn't looking, but the 200 watt grin he flashed at her proved that he still didn't miss a thing.

Carlos moved off the lift and hit the control that retracted it into the van. It took several more minutes for it to fully retract, then Steph slid the door closed and beeped it locked. She could hear the carnival music in the distance, and the closer strains of a patriotic song from the concert band shell nestled among the old trees on the green.

"Where do you want to start first?" she asked as she walked back to him.

Carnival, he typed. Girls will be there.

They set off down the sidewalk, Steph staying to his left so he could maneuver as needed to the right. It was much easier for her to drop back when they met groups of people than for him to dodge in and out with the chair. Most of the people they met gave them a wave and greeting; several times either Steph or Carlos would stop to chat with friends or good acquaintances from the area. Everyone made it into town for the annual picnic, or at least for part of it. Large farm families rotated in from the country so the chores were covered from dawn to sunset and everyone had a chance to enjoy the party. After sunset, when full dark descended between the rolling hills, young and old gathered to enjoy the fireworks.

A shrill whistle from her right jerked Steph out of her thoughts. The low hum of voices paused for a moment, then fell away to silence as the sharp staccato of snare drums joined the piccolo. Steph could see just over the heads of the people down the block that the color guard had formed up and was preparing to march past.

Carlos backed his chair to the inner edge of the sidewalk and locked the wheels. Before she could protest, he unbuckled the straps that kept him secure and had his cane out. She hurriedly transferred her shoulder bag to the other side and held her hand out for him to grasp as he levered himself out of the chair.

Determinedly, Carlos stood upright for a moment, catching his balance before he took the deliberate steps that would carry him to the curb. It was a long journey, and Steph's hand was cramping from his fierce grip by the time they reached the street. She didn't hear the murmurs as people shifted over to give them a clear path. She didn't see the eyes that filled with tears or the weather-worn hands that reached up to take off caps. Young boys stood silent next to fathers, uncles, cousins and grandparents who rendered military salutes learned in a century past, and young girls placed hands over their hearts. All she knew was that Carlos stopped at the edge of the sidewalk and slowly straightened. As the flag approached, carried by the local American Legion post, he raised his hand and rendered the honor with the precision of a soldier who remembered the field.

Steph could feel his muscles trembling as he held the salute, but she braced against him with all of her strength and he stayed upright and solid until the flag was past. He released the salute, then staggered slightly as he shifted his balance towards her.

An elderly man on his other side slipped a hand under Carlos' elbow. "Steady there, my boy," he said in a kind voice. "Don't need to have you take a bad tumble after that."

"Thanks," said Steph. "If I could get him back to the chair—"

He nodded. "No problem. Always glad to help a fellow Ranger."

Carlos looked up sharply at his words, and the old man smiled as they moved slowly back to the chair. He didn't say anything as Carlos was buckled in; hurriedly Carlos flipped open the laptop and tapped out a question. Where?

"Pointe du Hoc," the man said. "June of '44." He nodded to both of them and started to move off, but Carlos grabbed his hand and gave him a meaningful look. "Th-tha-aa-n-nk yu-u-uu," he said, enunciating the sounds carefully.

The man closed both of his hands around Carlos's. "No, son. Thank you. Your generation would have made mine very proud to serve alongside of you."

Steph swallowed the lump in her throat as she watched the man return to where his wife and family were waiting for him. When she glanced down at Carlos, she saw the tears in his eyes that matched the ones threatening to overflow hers. "I love you so much," she whispered, and pressed her lips to his forehead. She felt his arms slide around her waist, and the tears finally overflowed as she felt him so real and solid beneath her touch. He was alive, and he was getting better. Each day brought a new step forward, and each day was a miraculous gift.

"Come on," she said finally, clearing her throat. "Let's go find the girls before the food's all gone. I want to get a good spot to watch the fireworks tonight."

Their hands stayed intertwined as they walked towards the carnival again. Steph lifted her face and smiled as the breeze flowed past. The sunshine was brilliant in a deep blue, cloudless sky, and the day was absolutely perfect.

Later after the picnic, Steph look at her little family sprawled around her on a blanket from the van and smiled. They'd found the girls playing water games, with Kate close by as she helped Lisa with her entry. After they tired of playing and going on the rides, they had gone back to the square for the picnic and eaten the food provided by the church auxiliary ladies and the local farmer's association.

Now Angie and Mary Alice were laying side by side, comparing notes on the roller coaster as Lisa drowsed in Carlos's arms. He was sitting on the blanket next to her, his back braced against his chair and his free arm draped over her shoulder. Around them, other families were also finding spots on the lawn, the children quiet and the adults talking in low voices. Every once in a while, a laugh would ring out through the encroaching darkness, but for the most part it was quiet.

Carlos's finger traced gentle circles on her upper arm, trailing across the skin with a light touch that raised goose bumps in its wake. She wasn't quite sure if he was completely aware of what he was doing, but the teasing, tempting sensation was driving her crazy.

A low murmur ran through the crowd, and Mary Alice bounced to her feet. "Are they starting yet?"

Steph reached out her hand and drew the girl down to sit next to her in a half hug. Angie shifted closer as well, her chin propped on one hand as she lay on her stomach. "A little while longer, I think. They want it to be as dark as possible so you can see every firework."

"Oh." Mary Alice sat for a while, and Steph didn't have to see her face to know that she was thinking hard. "Mama Steph, I had fun today."

"That's good. I always enjoyed the Trenton 4th of July picnic." Steph laughed softly. "I had to go on all the rides, and play the games until my mom dragged me home, protesting all the way."

"Are we a family now?"

The question came out of left field. Steph froze and she felt Carlos's fingers on her arm still. Her thoughts darted in a thousand different directions, like leaves in the wind, and she grasped futilely for an answer that would defuse the situation.

"Ye-es," said Carlos quietly. "F-fa-fam'ly."

Her breath caught and she turned to look up at him. He leaned down until they were only inches apart. "L-l-luv y-y-uu."

"Always," she said, remembering the question he'd once posed to her in the middle of a night long ago. "Yes."

He kissed her, a whisper soft touch filled with promise. Steph slid her free hand along his jaw, cradling his head in her hand as she lost herself in the brilliance that was the man she loved. Dimly, she heard Mary Alice gasp.

"Look!"

They broke off the kiss and turned just as the first shell exploded in mid-air, blossoming into a fiery spray of green, blue and red light. Tiny white splotches of light erupted around it, filling the air with their sharp reports.

Steph hugged Mary Alice as other shells ascended on flaming tails. Colors filled the night sky, and she couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips. Surrounded by her family, she leaned against Carlos and watched as the fireworks celebrated an old freedom and the new life around her.