A Woman's Touch: 8/8
by Nancy Smith and Linda Garrick
9
"... And then you showed up," Angela finished. She was seated in one of the chairs in the passenger compartment of the skippership. Sue Perkins sat to her left; she hadn't said a word since she'd climbed out of the ambulance beside Angela to make room for the nurse and doctor that had come to attend to Kevin.
Alan filled their coffee cups, glancing toward the bunk where the two medical personnel still hovered over Kevin Bronson. Alan was Kevin's partner, too, although the tie wasn't as strong as the one Angela had with him, and they were also close friends. Her cousin looked back at her with a smile. Mark Linley echoed it.
"Glad you're on our side," Kevin's brother told her. "I wouldn't want you workin' against me after this. Man! Poor old Fong!" He chuckled maliciously.
Alan grinned. "I feel a little sorry for him," he remarked. "You and Sue here sure put him through the hoops, between you." He turned to Sue and extended a hand. "Welcome to the Terran Underground, Sue."
"Thank you, Colonel Westover." Sue glanced shyly at him and then at Mark, who also reached forward to take her hand. "After Angie saved my life like that, I almost had to."
"I'd say so," Alan said. "And I'd say there wasn't any 'almost' about it."
"What do you mean?" Sue asked.
Angela met her cousin's eyes with a shock of sudden understanding. It fitted, she realized. It fitted perfectly. It had happened to Alan when he had met Lyn Parnell, and now it had happened to her.
"Tell her, Angie," Alan said.
Angela gulped. "He means we're psychic partners, Sue. I should have figured it out before."
"Colonel Westover --" It was the doctor's voice. They turned toward her. Mary Wilson was smiling.
Angela leaned forward. "Is Kevin --"
The little psychic doctor smiled more widely. "Your partner is going to be all right, Captain. I'm sorry to keep you in suspense for so long, but I wanted to be certain. Major Bronson is still in very serious condition, of course, but the necessary transportation and excitement doesn't appear to have harmed him. My husband is an ICU specialist, and will be his private duty nurse until he's off the danger list. I think you can relax."
Angela felt tears fill her eyes. The doctor appeared not to notice. "I think he'd like to see you, Captain," she continued. "Go on over. It will do him good."
Angela did so. Kevin's bright blue eyes were open, and his lips smiled around the bandages. Angela sat down on the bunk and took his hand. His fingers squeezed hers.
**********
10
Strike Commander Fong Lee opened his eyes. There was a soft beeping from somewhere, and other noises that he couldn't identify. A figure moved into his range of vision -- the green-clad form of a nurse. A cool, professional hand adjusted a tube that seemed to be strapped to his arm. Something stung him sharply. His instinctive curse came out as a hoarse croak.
"Oh, hello, Strike Commander. Glad to have you back with us." The woman smiled dryly. "How do you feel?"
Fong considered. "Not bad. I'm sort of cold."
"Your ulcer started to bleed. You also gave yourself a nice case of alkalosis."
"Alkalosis?" Fong asked. "What ..."
"From too many antacids," the nurse said. "I'm going to get you another blanket. I'll be right back." The women disappeared for a moment, then reappeared with a blanket, which she proceeded to spread over him. "Just relax, for now. You're off-duty for a while."
Memory returned with a jolt. "The Jil! Where ..."
"He's still missing." The nurse's hands moved again and there was a sharp, stinging sensation. Fong grunted.
"Hey, that hurts!"
"Medication. We're trying to cool down that ulcer of yours. Kind of sharp while you're getting it. Grit your teeth. Here's the last of it."
Fong did. The sting came, then subsided. The nurse withdrew the syringe from the tube on his arm. "Relax, Lee. You're going to be all right." She surveyed him critically. "But, would you like a piece of free advice from an outsider?"
"What?"
"You ought to get out of the Strike Commandering business. It's going to kill you eventually, one way or another."
Fong laughed dryly, not deigning to reply with the obvious. The nurse shrugged. "Okay, it's your stomach." She moved away.
Fong lay still, savoring the warmth and lack of pain. The nurse was right, of course. He should never have enlisted in the Patrol in the first place. He didn't have the temperament for it. If there were any way out, he'd take it, but once you were in the Patrol that was it, short of a crippling injury. The Jilectans didn't accept the notion of hardship discharges -- particularly with the officers that they had spent so much time and money to train.
Above him, drops fell rhythmically into a glass chamber that was hooked up to an intricate computer of some kind. The tube ran down the side of the machine, was fastened to it in several places and ended at the point where it entered his arm. There seemed to be other tubes as well, all hooked up to various parts of his body.
He felt drowsily comfortable, and found that he was surveying idly the patient on his right. It was an elderly man, his gnarled hands secured to the bed with white restraints. His chin was pointed toward the ceiling, his eyes closed, and tubes coming out of his nose, neck, arm and probably other places that Fong couldn't see. He was making an odd gurgling sound with each breath. A nurse stepped up beside him as Fong watched, and inserted a catheter into the tube. There was a slurping gurgle and the man's breathing became unlabored once more.
Fong shuddered and turned his head to look at the patient on his other side.
The figure was large, and covered to the neck with a white sheet. White bandages swathed the man's face and the one hand that was visible, which was also secured to the bed rail by soft gauze restraints. What hair could be seen was a pale lemon color. The man was snoring on a high treble note.
Fong stared at the figure, wonderingly. There was something familiar about it, but for the moment he couldn't imagine what. He found himself frowning at the gauze-swathed hand showing from beneath the sheet, and hanging limply through the bed rails. The bandage had slipped up slightly so that the fingers were visible from the knuckles on down.
Fong frowned at those slim, white fingers, blinking his eyes hard. Something was wrong here ...
"Nurse!" he croaked.
No response. Fong levered himself up on his elbows. "*Nurse*!"
She appeared magically beside him, her hands on his shoulders pressing him back. "Easy, Strike Commander. Lie down. I don't want to tie you in."
"Wait!" Fong clutched for her frantically. "Wait, please, ma'am. I want to know something!"
"What?" She sounded bewildered, and a little suspicious.
"Who is that guy?" Fong jerked his head toward the bandaged patient.
The nurse's face lost all expression. "You don't recognize your prisoner, Strike Commander?"
"Bronson? That's Bronson?"
"Yes," the woman said. She started to turn away.
"Count his fingers for me," Fong said.
The nurse ignored him. Fong pushed himself up on his elbows again, feeling the tube in his nose stretch taut with the movement. "Wait, dammit!"
The nurse turned back and abruptly a doctor was beside him as well, forcing him back onto the pillow. "Get some restraints, Evie," he instructed.
"No, wait, please!" Fong turned frantically to the doctor. "Count Bronson's fingers for me!"
"What the blazes are you ..."
"*Count* 'em! Please!"
The doctor glanced over at Bronson. Fong watched his lips move as he counted.
Then the doctor frowned and went over to the bed. He reached down, taking the bandaged hand in his. He muttered under his breath.
Fong collapsed back against the pillow. "It's true, isn't it," he said. "He has six fingers."
"I'll be damned. I bandaged him myself and I didn't notice ..."
Fong shook his head weakly, feeling an odd, hysterical urge to laugh. "They did it to us! They did it to us again!"
"Who did *what* to you again?"
"Don't you see?" Fong did laugh now, hysteria bubbling up in him. "That's not Bronson! It's our missing Jil!"
The nurse and doctor were both gaping at him.
"Pull up the sheet," Fong commanded, his voice sounding unnaturally shrill, even to his own ears. "I'll betcha a million credits he's got six toes on each foot, with an extra joint on each!"
The nurse obeyed. She yanked up the sheet. Fong heard her inhale sharply. Several more women in green scrubs had appeared and were gaping dumbly at the slumbering Jilectan.
"Impossible!" the nurse whispered. "He hasn't been out of our sight!"
"Take off the facial bandages!" the doctor commanded.
The nurse obeyed, unwinding the white, unsoiled gauze. The face of Lord Sprinthvar came into view.
The doctor swore softly. "I *don't* believe it! Jane! Come here!"
Jane arrived and stared speechless at the Jilectan's recumbent form.
"Get Dr. Nguyen!" Fong's nurse commanded.
Fong gulped and shook his head, still laughing a little hysterically. "They did it again! I don't believe it! Those lunatics conned us again!"
Fong's nurse bent over him. "Calm down now, Strike Commander. I don't want to sedate you."
"I'm calm." Fong laughed hysterically. "Well, at least he's alive. I thought sure we'd find him cut to pieces in an alley somewhere! Get Lieutenant Naples in here right away."
"I can't find Dr. Nguyen," Jane said. "He doesn't answer his page."
"Better have the hospital searched," Fong said. "Two to one, you'll find him in some closet, tied hand and foot."
Lieutenant Naples entered the room, looking worried. His helmet had been removed and his young face showed lines that Fong had never noticed before. "Yeah? Whatcha want?"
"Strike Commander Fong wants to see you, sir." The nurse's voice was carefully expressionless.
Naples crossed to Fong's bed, surveying his superior officer unhappily. "Feelin' better, sir?"
"Yeah, a lot." Fong jerked his head at the bed beside him. "They got us again, Bill. Take a look."
Naples looked. His jaw dropped. "That's ... that's ..."
"Lord Sprinthvar. I know. Somehow the Underground must have switched him for Bronson. You got any notion *how*?"
Naples was gaping at the Jilectan. "We found a pharmacist tied up in the second floor pharmacy about twenty minutes ago, and I'd just ordered the buildin' secured when an ambulance made a bolt for it. We pursued, but a ship picked it up in mid air -- most fantastic thing the guys had ever seen, they said. Psychic partners, probably. Sounded like it."
"They must have had Bronson in the ambulance," Fong said, numbly. "But how the hell did they switch 'em? You! Doctor!"
The doctor stepped over beside them. "Yes?"
"Was Bronson taken anywhere since his surgery?"
A nurse spoke up. "I took him to radiology for a scan about forty-five minutes ago. Two of your men went with me."
Two patrolmen had appeared behind the woman. Naples glared at them.
"Was the prisoner out of your sight durin' that time?"
Patrolman Ivyflower cleared his throat. "Only during the actual scan, sir. Hospital regulations. It barely took two minutes, and we were right outside. There was no possible ..."
Fong gave an exasperated grunt. "That does it!"
Naples glared at his subordinates. "Search the room where the scan was done. Check any connectin' closets. I'll bet anythin' you like, that's where the switch was made."
"Sir, there was no place they could *go*! Two rooms -- a storeroom and a generator room -- both locked; I checked 'em myself!"
"And a little bitty rad tech, no doubt." Lieutenant Naples glowered at the two men.
Ivyflower swallowed. "Well, yeah, she was sort of little ..."
Fong shook his head and swore under his breath. Naples jerked his head again, and the patrolmen departed, accompanied by Jane, who seemed to be trying hard not to laugh.
Fong lay back against the pillow, reluctant amusement warring with exasperation in him. "Well, he's alive. I know she drugged him, and I think I'm smelling sweetgrass. Get hold of Command and have them contact the Viceroy. See if he has any new instructions for us. They'll need his permission, at the very least, if the medical staff is going to treat Sprinthvar. And remember the Viceroy's orders."
Naples swallowed uncomfortably. "House arrest, sir? Now?"
"Unless His Highness changes his mind."
Naples glanced sideways at Sprinthvar and slowly replaced his helmet. "Lucky me," he said, dryly.
**********
11
Angela entered Kevin's room in the Nova Luna Base Hospital to find her partner sitting up on his bunk and poking unhappily at the tray of food before him. He glanced up as she appeared, and grinned.
"Hi, baby."
"Hi Kevin. Aren't you hungry?"
He made a face and pushed the tray away. "Franz Leiberman's got the flu. Our old cook is fillin' in for him."
"I know." Angela made a face. "And without Franz to supervise, he's sort of fallen back into his old habits."
"That's for sure." He grinned at her again, but his attitude was a bit restrained, and Angie sensed it. She crossed the room and placed a paper bag on his nightstand. "Here you go -- compliments of Alan. He thought you might not appreciate poor Joe's efforts."
Kevin reached into the bag and drew out a flaky roll stuffed with a savory filling of meat and some kind of grain. "Mm! Good old Alan. Always comes to my rescue -- except when his gorgeous cousin beats him to the draw." His hand touched her fingers briefly. He didn't look at her and she could feel him searching for words.
"Angie ..."
"Yes?"
A hesitation, and she felt him lose his nerve. "You know I'm bein' discharged today?"
"Yes, I know."
Another awkward pause. Then, with a new effort, "Angie ..."
She smiled encouragingly. "Yes?"
He took a deep breath. "Honey, I know I'm not the prince charmin' your mom tolja about when you was a kid, and I know sometimes I'm not so good at sayin' things. But, honey ..." His voice trailed off.
Angela took his hand, holding it warmly in both of hers. "Please go on."
He squeezed her fingers, then released them, still not looking at her. "Honey, I guess what I'm tryin' to say is this. I ain't treated you right. I know that now. You're one in a million -- anybody who went through what you went through for me ... But we weren't brought up the same -- you know? I mean, I know you like me and all, but the things I've always asked for, you weren't able t'give me. I see that now, an' even though ...well, I won't ever try t'persuade you again. You call all the shots from now on, baby." His eyes came up at last to meet hers, and Angela was surprised to see tears in them. "You're a real special girl, Angie, an' I've been a royal jerk."
"No ..."
"Please, baby, let me finish. This ain't comin' easy, but now I'm started, an' I ain't quittin' 'til I'm through. You're a beautiful, desirable girl, an' I love you. You gotta believe that. I ain't never gonna date any other girls again. It's you only, honey, if you'll have me -- an' you call the shots."
Angela felt tears flooding her own eyes. Kevin swore under his breath. "Dammitall! Now I've made you cry again." His hand covered hers. "Don't cry, honey, please."
Angela blinked back the tears and put her hands on either side of his face. "Kevin ..."
The door swished open and the nurse, Evelyn Brown, entered the room. Angela let Kevin go and turned, her cheeks burning. Evelyn was one of the women Kevin had dated on and off over the last months.
"Came to get your tray, Kev." Evelyn picked it up, glancing at the barely touched plate. "Yearning to have Franz back, I see."
"Aren't we all?" Kevin didn't look at her. "Don't worry, Eve. Alan made me somethin' special. I'll eat it in a few minutes."
"Okay. I'm not worried," Evelyn said. "Dr. Philips has just written your discharge order, so you can go ahead and get ready. Mark and Alan just showed up. Matt called Colonel Westover to come on over and give you a hand. He told Matt to, of course. Can I send 'em on in?"
"Sure."
"Okay." Evelyn went out, taking the tray with her.
Angela turned to meet Kevin's eyes. "We'll talk about this later, when we won't be interrupted."
He nodded.
The door opened a few seconds later, admitting the psychic team of Westover and Linley.
Alan paused on the threshold, obviously sensing the emotions in the air, and reached out quickly to grasp Mark's wrist. "Uh ... we can come back later, Kev, if you're tired and want to rest."
Tactful Alan, Angela thought. Alan, the empath. She saw Kevin grin. "Nah, c'mon in."
Linley glanced at Alan, shrugged and approached the bed. "Matt tells Alan he's kickin' you outta here today, baby brother."
"Yep, gotta. Poor nurses can't control 'emselves no longer."
Mark guffawed. Alan glanced at the untouched sandwich on the table. "Don't you like ti veris, Kev?"
"Ti who's, kid?"
"Ti veris. That's what that is."
Kevin lifted the sandwich and took a hearty bite. He chewed rapturously. "Man! Whatta hamburger!"
"It's a ti veri, Kev," Alan repeated, patiently. "It's a Jil sandwich, and it's made from ..."
"Never mind tellin' me, kid. You'll probably spoil it for me if you do. Whatever it is, it's veri good." He took another bite and reached for his pitcher of water.
Angela poured him a glass and handed it to him. Their fingers touched briefly during the transfer.
"I'll getcher stuff together, baby brother," Mark said. "You just take it easy an' enjoy your veri ti, or whatever it is."
"Ti veri," Alan corrected, patiently.
"Right." Mark opened Kevin's closet and began to extract his belongings. "Kid made me one at the same time. You almost didn't get yours. Man! Nothin' like an Alan Westover hamburger to break up the breakfast monotony."
Alan sighed. "I'll help you get the stuff together, Mark."
"Thanks, kid. Here's his clothes. You can help him into 'em as soon as he's done with his vi teri."
Alan laughed. "You're doing that on purpose, Mark!"
Linley threw Kevin a wink.
**********
Two hours later, decently clad and still looking a little drawn and pale, Kevin left the hospital, walking slowly and leaning on his brother's arm. Mark's wife, Julia, and Alan's wife, Lyn, together with Sue Perkins, now officially a second lieutenant, and Captain Westover's new psychic partner, met them in the hospital waiting room. Together they escorted him across the small lawn to the BOQ and into the quarters that he shared with Andrei Wolenski.
Wolly wasn't there, of course. The former Patrol Strike Commander was at work in his position as Chief of the Public Relations department here on the base. The room, however, was clean and tidy. Flowers adorned Kevin's bureau and night stand, and beside the flowers were clustered three plates of cookies, some reading material and half a dozen boxes of candy, all supplied by well-wishers.
Kevin surveyed the gifts appreciatively as Mark helped him to sit on his bunk, Alan bent to remove his boots and Lyn and Julia plumped up the pillows for him.
"Thanks folks," he said, not sure what else to say.
"Our pleasure, Kev." Alan straightened up, setting the boots neatly to one side. "You just rest and get well now, okay?"
Kevin nodded. He looked at Sue Perkins, standing behind the others, seeming a little uncertain of herself amid such high-ranking company. "Sue, I guess I haven't said thanks to you for helpin' Angie before, so I'll say it now. Thanks a lot. I guess I'll be seein' you a lot more, now that you're part of our team, and I'm lookin' forward to it. I'm awful glad she had you there."
Sue's dark skin couldn't show a blush, but she smiled and looked at the toes of her shoes. "I was glad I could be there," she said.
Lyn smiled at the other girl. "We're going to leave Kevin and Angie alone for a while, now," she said. "I think they have a few things to work out. Would you like to come over to our place, Sue? We're going to have a barbecue in Central Park this afternoon. You're invited. Besides ..." She raised an eyebrow, "there are a couple of handsome young officers I know that have been dying to get acquainted with you all week ..." She turned back to Kevin. "Get better soon, Kev. We've missed you around here."
He smiled. Lyn had always been a good friend of his. Trust her to keep the situation from becoming embarrassingly sentimental. She and Alan were due to become parents any minute, and she looked it. "I'll do my best," he told them all. "That's a promise."
**********
Angela waited as her cousin and her friends took their leave, then, and the door closed behind them. She sat down on the bunk beside Kevin and took his hand in hers.
There was a knock on the door.
The person outside in the hall had her shields up, but instinctively Angela knew who it was. Phyllis, her mother, had been frustratingly persistent this past week in encouraging Angela to "date around" while Kevin was in the hospital, to "keep her mind off things". Angela, of course, had not been interested in dating around, but that had only served to fire Phyllis's efforts. As a result, things had grown rather strained between them, although Angela had managed to keep her temper so far, knowing that her mother actually believed it was for her own good.
She started to get up, then paused, a new sensation welling up in her. Phyllis wasn't going to like what she saw: Angela seated on the bunk beside Kevin, and holding his hand, but by gosh, she was just going to have to get used to the fact that Angela wanted no one but Kevin. Trying to hide it, or hedging around it, would only prolong the problem.
Angela reached out with telekinesis and pressed the switch. The door slid open, revealing Phyllis Westover.
Angela's mother was a pretty woman in her forties, and her body was just beginning to swell with the outlines of her pregnancy. As already determined by Alan, Angela and half a dozen other psychics on the base, the coming child was a boy, and, like his three sisters, a psychic.
But Angela had no thoughts for him at the moment. She looked straight into Phyllis's face and smiled. "Hi, Mom. They released Kevin from the hospital today. Doesn't he look wonderful?"
"Hi, Mrs. Westover," Kevin said, sounding a little uneasy.
"Hello, Kevin. I'm glad you're better. I made you some cookies -- the ones there beside the lamp, but it looks like you're well-supplied."
Kevin took one and bit into it. "Mm! Great! Thanks, Mrs. Westover. Everyone's been terrific."
She smiled reservedly, and took a step into the room, her eyes flicking to their joined hands. She fidgeted for a moment.
"Did you want something, Mom?" Angela asked.
"Well ... yes ... your father's looking for you, Angie."
There it was: her mother's attempt to step between them, to part them in any way possible. Roger Westover knew exactly where she was, but Roger was a psychic, and understood the concept of psychic links. Phyllis did not. She was merely trying to protect her daughter from the wicked wiles of Kevin Bronson, ex-patrolman and notorious lady killer. Kevin's reputation was well-known, and in some ways Angela couldn't blame her mother. When she and Kevin had daughters, no doubt they would feel the same. Still, she had made her decision, and Phyllis was going to have to learn to live with it.
"I'll contact him telepathically," she said. "I don't want to leave Kevin right now. If it's anything important, he knows where to find me."
"But ... why don't you come with me now, Angie." Phyllis smiled nervously. "Kevin needs his rest."
Angela stood up. "I'll be right back, Kevin," she said and went to the door. Phyllis retreated, smiling in a satisfied manner, and no doubt thinking that she had succeeded again. Angela stepped into the hall, but left the door open. She faced her mother in the hallway and spoke quietly and levelly.
"Mom, I know you think you're doing me a favor trying to get me away from Kevin, but you're not."
"Angie, please listen ..."
"I'm a woman, Mom. I'm twenty-two. I know that doesn't seem very old to you, but it's old enough for me to make my own decisions about the people in my life. Kevin's no angel. I know that. But he's my psychic partner ..."
"Oh, psychic partner, fiddlesticks! He's not good for you! He's hurt you before, and he'll do it again. He'll never marry you. Men like him don't, you know."
"Whether we get married or not isn't the issue, Mom. I love Kevin and he loves me. It's *our* decision whether that love is deep enough to base a marriage on. I will make it. I can't allow you to make it for me."
"You'll never have to make it. He'll never ask you."
"That's his decision, Mom, and if it's the one he makes, then I'll have to learn to live with it."
"Oh, sure!" Phyllis's voice became a furious whisper. "Be his handmaiden! Have his illegitimate babies while he sleeps around on you!"
"Kevin wouldn't *do* that!"
"Why not? He's been doing it up until now."
Angela took a deep breath and forced back her anger. This was getting them nowhere. Back to the original issue, she told herself firmly.
"Mother," she said, making no attempt to modulate her voice, "I believe that decision is mine to make, and I will do so. Maybe it will be a mistake. I don't know. I have no doubt that you made your share when you were twenty-two -- but at least *you* made them. Your mother didn't make them for you!"
"Angie, shh! He'll hear you!"
Angela didn't lower her voice. "I'm going back in there now, Mom. Please leave me alone. If I goof up, you can say 'I told you so', but please let me goof first before you do." She smiled and stood on tiptoe to kiss her mother on the cheek. "Thanks for caring, Mom. I love you for it." She turned and went back into the room to seat herself on the bed again.
Phyllis hesitated in the doorway, then glanced in again and gave a reserved smile.
"Get better soon, Kevin," she said.
"I'll do m'best, Mrs. Westover."
"Don't stay too long, Angie. The rest of your family likes to see some of you, too."
"Yes, Mom," Angela said, patiently.
The door closed between them.
There was a moment of silence. Kevin was watching her, his face very serious.
"Angie," he said suddenly, "I got better ears than your mom gives me credit for."
Angela smiled.
"I heard everythin' you both said."
"I know."
"Figured you might. Did you mean it -- what you just told your mom?"
"I meant every word," she said.
Kevin smiled faintly. "It looks to me like Captain Westover is feelin' her rank."
"It's about time I did." Angela took his hand, feeling suddenly shy at the look in his eyes. "Kevin ..."
His fingers closed warmly around hers. "Honey, I got somethin' for you, but I'm not sure now if I ..." He paused, and then lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. "I wanted to give you this over dinner that night on New Devonshire, before all this started. I wanted candles an' soft music, but it looks like that'll have to wait, 'cause I'm not gonna put this off any longer." He took something from beneath his pillow and slipped a ring over the third finger of her left hand. "I want to marry you, Angie -- if you'll have me."
Angela looked down at the ring. It was an emerald, deep green in color and set in white gold. The fit was perfect.
"It's beautiful, Kevin."
"I always liked emeralds," he said. "An your dad told me you did, too. We just sorta happened to be talkin' about rings a week or so before we went to New Devonshire, an' he kinda mentioned to me what your size was."
Angela felt tears flood her eyes. "Oh, Kevin!"
"Please marry me, Angie. I promise I'll do everythin' I can t'make you happy. I know my past ain't nothin' t'brag about, but ..."
Angela swallowed hard. "Even Prince Charmings make mistakes, Kevin."
"I ain't no Prince Charmin', baby."
Angela gulped. "You are to me!"
Again, his hands pressed hers. "Angie, he said huskily, "I want to make one thing clear. This won't change what I said before. Whether your answer's yes or no -- an engagement won't change nothin'. You remember what I said?"
"Yes."
"I was a jerk, Angie. I got carried away, an' almost lost the most wonderful girl in the galaxy."
Angela put her hand over his lips, silencing him. "I think you've apologized enough for that, Kevin. If anyone should apologize, it's me. I was wrong to hold it against you. Heaven knows, I've made mistakes in the past and was forgiven for them. If no one ever forgave anyone, then no one would ever live happily ever after."
There was a pause, and then Kevin looked down and put his hand over hers, touching the ring lightly and turning it on her finger.
"Y'know," he said, "I had to have Evelyn send to New Devonshire for this, and then have Winston Holt send it to me while I was in the hospital. I'd just bought it the day before all that ruckus began, and it was in the glove compartment of the car when you headed into the bank. That's why I didn't have any money with me. I paid cash for it."
Angela looked down at their joined hands.
"Baby, I don't think your mom will ever resign herself to me, but ..."
Angela laughed. "My mom won't have to live with you. I will."
His face broke into a smile. "I guess that's my answer, then."
"Yes." Angela straightened up, still holding his hand. "Well?"
"Well what?"
"We just got engaged. Aren't you going to kiss me?"
"If you don't mind ..."
Angela laughed. "If you *don't*, I sure will! I'm not sure I like the new you so well! It was the lady-killer I fell in love with. Don't be too much of a Prince Charming, okay?"
His face relaxed and he pulled her into his arms. "Okay, baby," he said huskily. "But don't forget, I'm only human."
"Don't forget, I'm human, too." Angela put her arms around him. "And don't worry about my mother. She'll come around once she realizes I'm not going to change my mind."
"I'm not thinkin' about your mom right now, baby."
He certainly wasn't, she thought an instant later. Kevin's lips covered hers, and his hand caressed her shoulder, then slipped around her, pulling her closer.
The kiss ended at last, leaving her breathless. Kevin's eyes, very close to hers, smiled.
"Tell me if I overdo it, Angie."
Angela shook her head. "I think Prince Charming would make an awfully boring husband," she said.
The End
