Julie filled in the sudden silence in her comfortable way, bless her.

"You talked Marcus into going back to the hotel?" she said to Elaine. She included him in the talk with the angle of her body, still sitting on the bed, but she spoke in that way people did around a recovering patient who might not yet be up to talking.

"Oh, I'm sure I didn't, though he let me believe that." Elaine offered a self-conscious chuckle. She wore dark slacks with a blue tunic top over it that pinned at the hip, accentuating a trim figure. Her dyed ebony hair was long but pulled back in a sleek twist. Her hazel eyes had a touch of blue-grey to them when she turned her head toward the light. Des wondered if she looked like his mother. Since Thomas had been cued into his parentage by comparing Des's looks to his aunt, not his mother, Des guessed that Elaine and Christine had drawn from different gene pools within the same family.

"He was probably in the cafeteria the past few hours to catch up on his work emails and texts," Elaine continued. Her Southern accent was country rural, soft and pleasing. "Staying as close as he can without making me think he doesn't trust me to watch over my own son. I hope he took a little nap down there, though, because I don't think he got much sleep. Thomas woke up about an hour ago."

"Des has only been up a few minutes. I'll go tell the nurse he's awake. Would you like to sit with him a few minutes while I do that?"

"Oh, well, if he's waking up, I don't want to intrude on you two. I can come back later."

Julie had looked his way as she made the offer, confirming he was okay with her suggestion. He wasn't sure, but Elaine's kind attempt to give him an out, combined with the way her eyes were fastened on his face, drinking in his features, decided him. Don't be an a.s.shole. Or a coward. What are you worried about?

Exactly what he'd said before the surgery. Though he'd posed it as a joke, and Julie had gone along with it, the wisdom in her lovely brown eyes had told him she knew the truth. He didn't know how he'd feel if Elaine didn't like him. Didn't matter how old he was, an abandoned kid would run toward the edge of a cliff to avoid another dose of familial rejection.

"No, it's good. Please..." He gestured Elaine farther into the room, coughing a little, the after effect of the breathing exercise.

Julie picked up her robe, shrugging into it and freeing her long hair from the collar. "I'll be back in a few minutes," she told Des, leaning over to brush her lips over his. He put his hand on her shoulder to hold her, bring her back down for more of that, just an extra minute. When he at last let her go, she ducked her head, hiding her flush as she hurried from the room.

She'd handed Elaine a cup of water with what looked like big Q-tips in it before she departed. Elaine moved the rolling table close and set the cup on it so he could reach for one of the swabs and roll it across his lips and in his mouth. Fortunately, he was able to do that on his own, but she helped him find the controls on the bed and raise him to a more upright reclining position. It felt better to sit up and be somewhat in control of his faculties, though he had to close his eyes a few minutes at the return of the dizziness. They had him on some good painkillers, because he wasn't too uncomfortable, but fortunately he also wasn't loopy. He hoped.

She'd put her bag on the chair and he saw a photo alb.u.m in it. "You've been sharing pictures?" he asked, looking for a way to start the conversation that might put them both at ease.

"I thought...well, you don't have to look at them. In a way, I brought them for myself. It sounds silly, but I felt like by bringing pictures of the woman who bore you, I was bringing Christine with me to meet the child she never had the chance to know."

He blinked. "That was...an odd way to refer to her."

Elaine's lips tightened. "She wasn't your mother. Betty was probably the closest thing to that for you, wasn't she? G.o.d bless her. But I'll call Christine your mother if you wish me to do so."

"I don't. I guess I'm just surprised...that you'd realize that I wouldn't be comfortable with that. She was your sister." He was usually more lucid than this, but maybe this halting, gentle way they were both handling one another was how it should be. Julie had left only the bathroom light on, so it was dim and quiet in the room, coc.o.o.ning them in their own world.

Elaine took a breath. "She was my sister, and I loved her deeply, even though I didn't know how to help her. It took me a long, painful time to realize both those things could be true. Would you like me to talk about her? We don't have to do so. You've just been through surgery. We can certainly talk about other, easier things."

"No. I think it might be easier to talk about it now. While I'm on painkillers."

Elaine reached out to touch his hand, then thought better of the familiarity, folding her hands back against her. He didn't disagree with her decision. He wasn't sure if he was ready to be touched by his aunt, but he regretted if his lack of encouragement pained her. She straightened her back, though, and gave him a brisk nod that told him she wasn't that fragile.

It almost made him smile. Yeah, she'd raised three kids and, from what he'd heard, she held her own with Marcus. Knowing she wasn't going to break if he said the wrong thing relaxed him a little more.

She sat down in the chair Julie had pulled up beside the bed. "Christine had an artist's personality. When I first recognized it in Thomas, I worried so much about him because of her, but he had a steadiness, a grounding, she never had. Nothing was ever right for Christine. She had this vision of how her life was supposed to be. Whatever didn't fit with that, she simply denied, shut away, or blamed it on someone else."

She shifted back in the chair and crossed her legs, tucking a stray wisp of hair behind her ear. She wore an inexpensive wedding set and her fingers had slightly swollen knuckles from arthritis. While her nails were neat and polished, he could tell she worked with her hands. Thomas had mentioned on that drive back to Charlotte that his mother loved gardening.

"Would you like me to go on?" She was watching his face. At his agreement, she continued.

"Our parents were simple farm people, but they took her to a psychiatrist on the recommendation of a guidance counselor. He put her on drugs, anti-depressants, things like that. She became addicted to any drug that could change her mood." Pain crossed Elaine's features. "She'd steal my father's painkillers for his knees, so he had to keep them locked up in the gun safe. She left home at eighteen and would come back on occasion when she had nowhere else to go. The only one she'd tell anything was me. To my shame, I took that as a badge of honor, keeping her secrets even as I knew that she'd become poison to herself."

Elaine shook her head. "Thomas was ten when she came to stay with me for the last time. After three days, I told her I would get her into a treatment program, but if she wasn't willing to do that, she had to leave. She'd become so unstable that I didn't trust her around the children. My husband saw it. 'Lainie, I love you,' he said, 'but she shouldn't be around the kids. We both know it. If it's too hard for you to tell her to leave, I will.'"

She blinked over the memory of a beloved husband, her hand dropping to her wedding set without conscious thought. Des felt an odd twist as he always did, seeing those subtle yet unmistakable signs of a family connection that extended over years. He'd never had that, but he was hearing about the family that had contributed to his own life's path. No matter how painful the tale for both of them, he realized he did want to hear it.

He'd always claimed that it didn't matter if he knew or not and, in a way, it didn't, but knowing who his mother was had always been a puzzle. Her pieces added to the picture of his own life. It might not change who he was or how he viewed himself, but would give him a greater sense of balance, however hard it was for him to explain why. Perhaps it was because of what he saw in Elaine's face now. That sense of being part of a whole, not a piece cut away and drifting alone.

"She refused, of course, but that was when I learned about you. She broke down and cried, and said if she hadn't been forced to give up her baby, maybe she would have been happy like me. At first I thought she was lying, a sympathy ploy to convince me to let her stay longer. Like most addicts, lies came as easily to her as truth, and all too often became the same to her. But as it all spilled out, I realized, to my horror, she wasn't lying."

Elaine's eyes became distant as she recalled the conversation with her sister. "She told me you'd been born sickly. In her twisted mind, she took that as more proof that G.o.d hated her. She said G.o.d could have given her something perfect and beautiful to love, but he gave her something she couldn't care for, an excuse to leave you with the hospital and the social workers."

Elaine paused, recalling herself, and put her hand over Des's on the blanket. Her touch was soft and cool. He was more ready for it now, but his fingers twitched in reaction, so she drew her hand away.

"Forgive me, son. Perhaps I shouldn't have told you that, but nothing in those words she spoke were true. You were a gift she should have treasured. Your health was merely her excuse."

"Yeah. And her fault. She abused her body, and my body paid the price."

Des had no anger over it. It was just simple logic. But when Elaine flinched, he put out a hand, palm up. She glanced at him, then laid hers in it, like a b.u.t.terfly landing. It worked better that way, him initiating the touch. He closed his fingers over hers, gently, wondering at touching her. But the feeling that rose in him was too powerful, too undefined, and he didn't want to lose control. He drew back.

"Like you said, she blamed others for the things she did. I'm not a child, Elaine. Maybe when I was little, I went through the 'why didn't my parents love me enough to keep me' phase, but I had good people at the boys' home who looked after me. I'm not really into religion, but I do believe there's Something out there, and whatever she was so willing to blame gave me the smarts to embrace my life instead of being bitter about it. Most the time." He smiled at her. "You know, once when I was in the hospital, Miss America came to visit the children's ward? She was wearing this silky floral dress. When she bent down to stroke my head, I could look right down the front of it. I was nine. I was old enough to appreciate the gift."

Elaine tsked at him, but her eyes twinkled, telling him he'd succeeded in easing her mind. "Mind your manners, young man."

He sobered. "Seriously, she was nice. And I thought, wow, if I hadn't been in the hospital today, I wouldn't have met her. It was around about then I started realizing that, no matter what s.h.i.t I had to deal with about my health, there were plenty of good things out there for me. I just had to pay attention so I didn't miss out on the opportunities to have them. Fortunately, my first goal-to marry her-didn't work out, so I didn't find myself off the market when I met Julie."

"She's a very special woman."

"She is." Des read the speculation in the older woman's face. "I won't hurt her. I love her."

"Then you'll definitely hurt her." The wisdom and experience of it showed in Elaine's hazel eyes. "That's the way love works. She'll hurt you sometimes, too. But love is all about forgiving one another, learning to love, laugh and grow together. Build a life together. Is that your intention?"

Des blinked at the shift. Though Elaine had been tentative in their discussions of Christine, Des now found himself in the laser sights of a woman who operated on a code many would consider outdated. But she'd obviously taken Julie under her wing and would protect her in the ways she knew best.

Despite being bedridden and not at his best or most stubborn, he rallied enough to give her a direct look.

"I think that's something she and I should discuss first before I make my intentions known to anyone else."

"Hmph." Another long stare, and Des considered it lucky he didn't relapse, holding fast against it. Then Elaine's lips curved, and her eyes sparkled anew.

"You'll do, Desmond. You have backbone." She rose, gripping his hand and holding onto it this time. "If you don't already have a tradition of your own, I'll expect you for Christmas with the rest of the family. Julie usually stays at Marcus and Thomas's house, right down the road from us, and you're welcome to do that, or you two can stay in Thomas's old bedroom. My house is open to you."

I'll expect you for Christmas with the rest of the family. Never in his life had those words been said to him. Maybe it was the surgery, the painkillers he was on, or other debilitating factors that made him susceptible to sucker punch triggers, but his chest got tight, his throat thickening. "Um...I...that would be..."

Her eyes softened, and she bent down to kiss his forehead, her thin, cool hands cupping his jaw. She pressed her cheek against his, trapping the moisture that had leaked from his eye and absorbing it into her own creased skin. She straightened, combing her fingers through the wisps of hair at his brow.

"You have no idea how much you look like her," she said, her own voice thick. "I lost my sister, Desmond, long before she actually died. I prayed for her every day, but when she told me about you, G.o.d forgive me, I prayed even harder for you. Though I knew giving you up was the best thing she ever could have done for you, I prayed that you'd end up with someone who loved you. I've prayed for you every day since she told me about you."

She was killing him. As he tried to nod, her hand gripped his again, her eyes suddenly brilliant in their intensity. "I know you're a grown man, and you've dealt with all these things, and obviously dealt with them well. You are a generous, kind person. However, I want you to know something. If she had come to us when she was pregnant with you, Robert and I would have taken you in a heartbeat. You would have been raised as one of our children, just as loved as any of them. I didn't have the chance to do that, but if you want a family now, you have one."

Okay, Marcus was right. The woman was evil. When his shoulders shuddered and he turned his face away, she wrapped her arms around him. Though she was careful not to disrupt his IVs, she held his face to her bosom so he could bury those tears there. He had his arm around her fragile yet oddly st.u.r.dy body and, while he held on tighter than he should have, she never flinched. She cradled him in her arms in a way he'd also never experienced. As he wept without thought or a.n.a.lysis, she cried, too.

His body would heal from this surgery, but Elaine had just helped heal a wound to his soul.

He didn't really remember running down, but the drugs and the stress of the surgery overcame him. He recalled her settling him back on the pillows and using a damp cloth to wipe his face, her fingertips combing back his hair again. She admonished him about using the word 's.h.i.t' earlier, telling him he needed to watch his language. It made him smile. He slept.

He was aware of Julie coming back, sitting with him, gripping his hand, the press of her mouth against his, an entirely welcome sensation he tried to prolong, but his arm was too weak to lift. It was okay, though. Her clean female scent stayed close.

When he woke again, she was curled up in the guest chair, asleep. Marcus was laying a blanket over her, and Elaine was saying something about wishing she could bring him back some breakfast since hospital food was so horrible. He was all for that.

"Eggs and hash browns," he mumbled. "And take Julie with you. She needs to sleep in a real bed. Don't let her wear herself out. I'm fine here."

Elaine came to the bed and pressed a motherly hand to his brow. "She's as stubborn as you are, but they said you'll be able to have a liquid diet tomorrow and get the IVs out. If you're up to it, you'll be able to get up and move around a bit. That will go a long way toward convincing her. They won't let us feed you anything but what they approve yet. Have to take care of that special kidney of yours."

"Bet Thomas will get hash browns," he said sullenly, but he took a closer look at Marcus. As Elaine had hinted, he had the lined tiredness in his otherwise perfect face that said he'd been camping out in another room the same way Julie was camping in his.

"Is Thomas okay?"

"He's great. We'll get you together for a visit in the morning."

"Tell him thanks. Thanks...to all of you."

Des saw Julie's eyes open and he couldn't look away. He wanted her in the bed with him. He wanted her close.

"Let's give them a little time to snooze. We'll go back to Thomas." Elaine, picking up the vibe, eased her and Marcus toward the door. Des felt a little guilty about making them feel like they had to leave, but he did have one question he wanted answered first, that he asked as they reached the door.

"How do you know I'm a generous, kind person?"

Elaine blinked. "I've interrogated your closest a.s.sociates. Waterboarding was used."

He snorted but Marcus tossed him a look. "Believe her. She could wear a California redwood to a stump."

"Hush," Elaine told him, though her lips pressed against a smile. "I talked to these two and Thomas about you. Particularly Julie. That wonderful girl thinks she's been in love before, but I disagree." She glanced toward Julie and back at Des. "You love someone worthy of being loved, and it's clear to me she's deeply in love with you."

As Marcus held the door for her, he gave Des a nod before the door closed behind them.

Des looked toward Julie immediately. "Can you come here?"

Her lips tipped up. "What, a request? No Dommish orders? No 'get your a.s.s over here now'?"

"Not my style."

"I beg to differ. It's your style. You just don't use the words. You use 'the look.'"

"Well at the moment they've got so many chemicals running through my system, the best I can manage is a cross-eyed, drooling stare. But since there are three of you, I'm having all sorts of good fantasies. Get all of your a.s.ses over here."

She giggled and put the footrest down, coming to him with the blanket still wrapped around her. He expected it was chilly, as it always was in hospital rooms, though he wasn't feeling it, since they had him swathed in a bunch of blankets.

He was able to move over enough for her, though, so she could slide in on the side that didn't have all his hookups. As soon as she pillowed her head on his shoulder and settled her body against his, his world centered in a way that he knew without question answered Elaine's question about intentions.

"I'm going to marry you," he said.

"Oh?" She sounded drowsy, but happy at the prospect. "I can go for that. Are we doing this right now, or is there time to get a dress?" She paused, and she didn't have to say anything for him to know she was thinking of the night in the theater.

"Is that the one you'd like to wear?"

"Yes. I'll get it altered to fit me a bit better. Otherwise it will slide all the way off my b.o.o.bs at the reception when I step on the hem and cause a wardrobe malfunction, but...yes."

"Good."

"Good to the wardrobe malfunction or the dress?"

"Both." He put his arm around her. He was weak, Christ, he was weak, but that would change. The one good thing about having a tidal health history was knowing these things ebbed and flowed. He'd be strong enough to lift her over a threshold by the time they were married. He'd make d.a.m.n sure of it.

"So...Elaine. She's a bit scary. She said she expects me to join them for Christmas this year."

"Of course. You're part of the family, aren't you? I was going to invite you to Marcus and Thomas's as my plus-one. Sounds like I'll be yours. Don't tell me you're going to refuse. It takes a braver woman than me to say no to that woman."

"Are we sure she's not a Domme? I'm thinking she has stilettos and a whip hidden away somewhere."

"If she does, when she pa.s.ses-hopefully decades from now-we better get them before her kids find their hiding place. Thomas would be traumatized for life." Julie glanced down, amused, noticing he was winding his pulse-ox line around her wrist. "Just can't help yourself, can you?"

"I was going to ask Sal if he'd bring me restraints. Figured I could cuff you to the bed, make sure you don't go anywhere while I was sleeping."

"I won't go anywhere," she said. Suddenly sobering, she curled her fingers around his wrist with her other hand. "And you aren't either. You hear me? I don't care about statistics or anything else. You're going to hang around long enough for me to grow old with you. Better or worse and all that."

"Good thing I asked first. I'm pretty sure not only is the man supposed to be the one to propose, but a Dom would definitely be the proposer."

"I'm a pushy sub. You've said so. And a New Yorker." She smiled, but then she shifted uncertainly, as if doubting herself, or his feelings on the matter.

"I do. I will. I feel like we already are." Des touched her face, stroked it. "If I should go before you, it won't matter, Julie. I'm not taking a boat anywhere you can't go. Whether it's a day or fifty years from now, I'll wait right there on the other side. You're worth the wait to me. You always will be. I knew it the first time I saw you."

She blinked back tears. "You're just saying that because I let you touch my breast within a minute of meeting me," she said.

"Well, yeah, there is that." He considered her. "You know, I haven't given you flowers in a while. I liked the liquid nitrogen scene Tony did with Charlotte. Would you like it if I gave you flowers that way? Leave the blush of a rose's petals against your fair skin when the bloom explodes into a million pieces?"

"I'd like anything you'd give me. The first date we had, you took me to see flowers."

"Actually our first date was my daring spider rescue. The notorious breast-touching-excuse incident."

She chuckled, held him tighter and he kissed the top of her head. "We're okay, love," he murmured. "We're okay."

Four days later, they let him come home. Julie had been as glad as Des was to be back in his bed. And, as much as she'd enjoyed his reaction to her surgical gown gift, she was happy to have him back in his jeans and T-shirts. Though it might be a while before he did handstands on a roof again, she was okay with that.

Des's post-surgical instructions forbade him from lifting anything heavier than a cinder block for several weeks, or exerting himself too strenuously, so he coordinated his roofing jobs by phone and very brief visits out to job sites. He had good people working for him, so his income didn't suffer.

While he hadn't lied to her when he told her he had few expenses, Julie had learned his medical insurance, available to him only because he paid a high premium and maintained a sizeable deductible, didn't cover everything, like the expensive pump supplies. He'd learned to keep all his other bills low to meet those costs.

Yet like her, there wasn't much he needed in life except the pleasure of day-to-day living. He was at least able to minimize the doctor visits he disliked so much, because with Betty nearby, the nurse handled a lot of the follow up monitoring that would have been done in an office, including staying alert for any warning symptoms of rejection.

Julie had one-heart stopping night when she rolled over and discovered he had a fever. In a blink, she'd concocted all sorts of emergency scenarios involving organ rejection or life-threatening infection, but it turned out to be fine. Over his protests, she'd woken Betty to check on him. After a brief interrogation, the nurse learned he'd let some of his Type I kids come visit him and meet her horses the day before, and Justice had a cold.

Betty designated Des the stupidest man alive-which she said was a very notable distinction, since anything with a p.e.n.i.s was incurably stupid-and determined he'd simply caught the boy's bug. He'd been relegated to bed and chicken soup for the next three days under the pain of her wrath.