This work of adult fiction, loosely based on characters portrayed by Russell Crowe, includes adult language and experiences; you have been warned. No copyright infringement on the original work is intended.

Copyright Diana Walker 2006.

Author's Note:  This is a look into Terry and Diana's life away from everyone.  These conversations occurred in a seven day period though the seven days are not consecutive.

TERRY

I don't know how to tell her this without hurting her feelings. It's such a small thing perhaps I shouldn't mention it at all.

It's coffee. Diana doesn't make her coffee strong enough. You can stand a spoon up in her soups; her stews are chock a block full of meats and vegetables so spoons stand in those as well.

I am accustomed to SAS coffee; normally you don't dare put a spoon in one of those cups. It is so strong it melts the spoon right in front of your eyes.

We are so new in this partnership. I don’t want to bring up something so minor for fear that it will damage what we have forged. I wouldn't hurt her for the world; I walk on eggshells around her. She has taken all my scrapes – the ones she knows about - with such good humour. That's one of the things I love about her.

I've taken a page from her book; I've tried the middle road. I surprised her by making morning coffee a few times. I made it stronger by a bit. She put in her creamer, wrinkled her nose, and put in more; she smiled in satisfaction. The next day when she made the coffee, it was back to weak. I made coffee the next morning even stronger than the first time – same reaction from her.

There's nothing for it but to show and tell her how I like my coffee. It's the small things in this relationship that will make it go bad. It's not the boulders you climb over together; it's the grains of sand in your shoe that you don't stop to dump out that cause break-ups. It isn’t JAWS that eats you alive, it’s the bloody ducks nibbling you to death that do you in over the long haul.

Diana came into the kitchen with the dogs trailing behind her. “I expected you to still be in bed. Early meeting?”

“No, I wanted to show you something. Coffee.”

I ground the first batch of Kenyan beans and dumped them into the basket. Diana started putting the bag away; I nabbed it out of her hands. “It needs more.”

She looked at me in, not totally surprised. “I've been making it much too weak for you, haven't I?”

I nodded grinding the next batch and dumping it. I ground another batch, though this time it was a half batch, dumped it, and shook the grounds level. Diana filled the pot with water halfway. “More water?”

“Fill 'er up for this amount of coffee.” She finished filling the carafe and poured the water into the maker. Her cheeks were flaming red.

“I'm so sorry, Terry. You've been here, what, over a month, and I haven't paid any attention to how you like your coffee. I should have known. I'm so, so sorry. I'm so stupid.” She dropped her head and covered her face with her hands.

“My fault, Baby. I didn't say anything; how could I expect you to know?” She took a hesitant step towards me but stopped. I had taken her back to her fears – weak coffee was a failure. I pulled her to me in an embrace and started trying to pry her fingers away. Every time I got one loose and moved on to the next, the first one returned to hiding her shame. “It's just coffee, Diana. No wurries.”

“But I do worry. Which one of my fuck-ups is going to drive you away?”

“It won’t be weak coffee.” I gave up on the fingers covering her face and lifted her chin, fingers and all. “If this doesn't work between us, it won't be because we both haven't given it our best try. I am a very satisfied man.”

DIANA

“We need a new bed.”

Terry was spooned behind me, and I was about to drift off to sleep. “What makes you think that?” I managed to mumble.

Terry tightened his hold around my waist, nudged my knees up, and started rocking his hips. It was a pleasant, warm movement. If he was trying to seduce me, it wasn't doing the job. It was making me very comfortable.

“Is the mattress lumpy in the center? I've always slept right here.”

“No. It's fine, but I do need to replace the weather stripping round the door frame.” From his answer, I doubted he was interested in sex. Since he was about to leave on an overnight trip to Chicago later this week, I made a fuzzy mental note to make a trip to Lowe's for supplies. I could only hope that there wasn't a handyman field trip this time to delay my purchases. I'd get the job done while he was gone.

“Too soft? Too hard?” I could feel his head shaking behind me and his laugh on my neck. I wonder if he would take the opening. Oh, hell. At least I didn't compound it by thinking that out loud.

We'd never talked about all the various aches and pains he had to have accumulated over the years in his profession. They had to be numerous. Terry Thorne, however, was not the type of man to volunteer information about aches and pains.

Maybe he needed a board under the mattress to support a bad back. I'd never seen him holding his back in the morning; most mornings he held mine.

He didn't do any back strengthening exercises that I’d ever seen, though he had become interested in my exercise program. That was about the time I started doing sit-ups sans knickers. Do I know how to entice my personal trainer or what? I thought that had been a stroke of genius on my part.

I also hadn't seen him letting hot water beat on his back in the shower. No, from my experience his back was just fine.

My laugh at that thought was more of an exhalation than a real laugh.

“Care to share that pleasant thought?”

“I was thinking about your back and how healthy it is. From your active lifestyle, both personal and professional, I'm surprised you haven't hurt it at some point. From a purely personal viewpoint, I'm glad you didn't.”

He sighed. “I’ve been remarkably lucky in the injury department. I do keep thinking we need to hire some younger guys, but I’d miss the field. My instincts are as good as ever, maybe better; the new paintball course is extremely good to keep the training sharp. I only hope I know when I start losing that momentary edge that allows me to keep everyone safe. I'm sure Dino will be glad to tell me when it happens.” Terry has his moments when he is willing to admit his fears to me. I feel so honored that he tells me things he would admit to no one else.

A new paintball course had opened close to the house – it was next door to the firing range - and a couple of times a month, Terry, Maximus, and Dino had been going over there. The place had urban, open field, and survivor courses. The course had opened as a result of demand from the guys frequenting the firing range, most of whom were ex-military, law enforcement, national guardsmen, security forces …people who wanted to keep their skills honed. This allowed them to train with people they couldn’t predict, thus keeping their skills sharp.

I see my job as not allowing him to dwell on unfounded fears and to bring up and kick his butt on real ones, if necessary. “I know Dino will tell you.” Dino had promised me he would keep Terry safe; I have ultimate confidence Dino will do that, no matter what it takes. To hear him tell it, he's been doing it for years. “So, you don't need a board under the mattress?”

“Not for a few years anyway.” He started rocking again more vigorously than before. A very faint scrige, scrige came from the bed frame. I could barely hear it.

“It can't be that we don't have enough room. I have a foot of sleeping space which is plenty since I sleep on my right side. You stay glued to my backside unless you’re really tired. Then you sprawl all over, but then I get to play with your pits.”

I turned to him just in time to feel him jerk his free arm to his side; he kept his other arm loosely draped around me. He cocked his scarred eyebrow at me, or at least I chose to think he did. It is so dark in the bedroom without the moon shining in the French door and windows, I truly could not tell. Even with my dream man in bed with me, I still get to have some fantasy.

“Only slightly kinky.” I heard the smirk in his voice.

“I'll try harder on the kink front if you want me to.” Unbidden, a stray insecurity flitted through. They don't come so often anymore where Terry is concerned, but they are still there.

“No need. You keep me interested just as you are.” His draped arm slid down to my butt and settled me more closely into him. It slid further down and coaxed my leg between his. He was satisfied with the arrangement. “Now pay attention and listen.” The rocking became more energetic. The scridge sound became a scree – the unmistakable sound of complaining bed springs. It was so loud Holly jumped on the bed to investigate.

“We need a new bed. The noise drives me round the twist when I’m trying to concentrate on you.” I didn't want Terry distracted when he was focusing on me.

“I never heard it before. Once you start kissing me, everything else disappears but what you’re doing to me. I hate to tell you this, but you may be sorry you mentioned it. It could make your job more difficult; the springs could be very distracting. It may be all I hear for a while.” I'd crawl under the bed in the morning and squirt a little WD-40 over all the springs. We'd check tomorrow night to see if the lubricant worked.

“It seems appropriate that our first purchase together be a bed.”

“Yep. The first thing we shared was the Opera; it's not available for purchase. The next thing we shared was a bed. We can buy one of those. Really, as close together as we sleep, we could get a twin, but I imagine you'll want a king, won't you?”

“If the dogs keep sneaking up onto the bed at night, it would probably be a good idea. It's Holly's fault that I stay glued to you at night. She likes to stretch out.”

I could feel his smile as I spoke. “Right. Blame the dog. Can you stand the noise until I get back from Cairo? We'll need to get a new headboard and footboard; it will be a bitch to match the oak in the rest of the set. I’ll miss having a big brass bed.” I sang a bit of The Unsinkable Molly Brown.

“You find a brass bed frame you like when you get back, and it's ours. I'll work out the engineering on the springs.”

“Do you think the shops will be ready for us testing mattresses?” Uh-huh, that was definitely a leer I felt on his face. “I've only flopped down on mattresses by myself in public. It surprised the sales guy. He said he kept trying to encourage customers to try at least lying on their selection, but most didn't.

“I never paid attention to how couples shop for a bed. I never thought I’d need to know how to do that. It exceeds my squick factor just thinking about it.” How can I seem so loose and wild about so many things and the thought of laying down on a mattress in public with Terry makes me so uncomfortable? I think announcing our living arrangements to total strangers is what freaks me out. I think it scares the 'commitment-phobic' in me. This would be a public statement that I am one of two. I mean, if it's a one-night stand, you don't go mattress shopping together.

He tilted my face up to his. “We'll do it however you wish. You can go try them out, give me the models, and I'll try them out without you, though I do think that since it's to be ours, we need to see what it feels like with our combined weight on it. I'll get you a ring to wear for mattress shopping if you want us to go together; would that make you feel more respectable?” A ring? Did he just say a ring? He didn't mean that. I'll ignore that he said that.

“Let's think about that later. Cairo is still a long way off. I'll get my head wrapped around it by then.” I had a vision of Terry and I bouncing on a bed in public like a couple of naughty kids. I giggled.

Holly found her place by Terry's feet. He crowded me more. “I told you it was Holly's fault.”

TERRY

I heaved a sigh getting comfortable. I finished unwinding from the day; there's not enough hours.

“That was a big sigh.” There was a hint of concern in Diana's voice.

“You don't want to know.”

“Oh, yes I do. Is this going to be a lights on or lights off convo?” I could feel her arm reaching for the reading light. I reached across to grasp her arm and wrapped both our arms under her breasts.

“Let's make it a lights off.”

“Oh, good. With that last statement, you are committed to talk to me.”

I could either groan at how she had trapped me with my own words or laugh at her cheekiness. “There never seems to be enough time any more. You and I don't seem to talk until we get into bed.”

“Are those rhetorical statements, complaints, or conversation openers?”

“If you can shed any light on the subject, complaints or convo starters, feel free to do so

“For one, I like our bedtime talks. We're warm; we're comfortable. By the time you get home from work, we're both hungry. You've learned not to mess with me when I'm hungry.” She bumped her bum into me emphasizing her point. I pinched it for good measure.

“Yes, you're a grouch when you're hungry. I'll give you that.” I started pulling pillows behind me to cushion the brass, pulled myself to a sitting position, and pulled Diana between my legs, propping her back against my chest. She wasn't looking at me, but we were still glued together. I needed that.

“After dinner Asia is starting their day, so you’re checking the world news there. Or you're getting caught up on your reading. After that, both of us check evening emails for crises and then it's time for bed.”

I sighed. She had just made my point. We were definitely living together. “Don't forget the late night check on the horses.”

“But you love it when I come in cold and you get to warm me up. Or so you said.”

I do indeed find that a most satisfying end to the day. “I am not one for a chat after that though.”

“We'll just have to pray for a warm winter then if a chat is what you want.” She flipped over and pushed my shoulders down so only my head was elevated. “I gather your feeling about lack of time together makes it official – we are living together and not having a fling. Would you rather it be an affair?”

“In some ways, yes. But give up what we do have? No, I wouldn't trade it for the world.”

“It sounds like I need to start coming to bed in one of those slinky nightgowns you got me rather than one of your t-shirts.”

“That's one of the things I wouldn't give up. I can get you out of my shirt quite nicely. Besides, if we have to get up in the night for a horse emergency, I wouldn't want Bill to see you in that silver one. That's just for me. I would like to wine and dine you more.”

“I don't need it, you know.”

“That is precisely why I would like to. You don't need me. You want me. Nigel told me that I would be knocked for six when I could add to someone's life.”

“You certainly have added to mine and only in a good way. What else did Nigel say?”

“Nothing in words. Whenever I was on the phone with you whilst we were there, he'd pop his head round the corner and be the cheeky bastard I knew years ago.”

“It was nice getting to talk to him. Somehow he doesn't sound like a warden.”

“I couldn't imagine him getting out of the service, let alone being a bureaucrat.” The trip to England with Reags and Max had been mind boggling. Each time I think I understand how all my life or lives work, another piece is revealed. It now appears that the celluloid piece, whilst actually happening, is the anomaly. My youth, my school days, my service all existed. I know how to think like an engineer. My military skills are fully formed. Nigel and Amanda recognized me, and our history was intact. Tecala happened and was filmed. It is all integrated into this life with Diana. I don't understand it, but thank you, Croweie.

“Where did you go?”

“Still trying to make sense of my crazy life.”

“I'm sorry I said that about the anomaly when we first met. I didn't mean to hurt you. It was really unfair of me.”

“It's old history. Like me not speaking up about the coffee. That paddock conversation wasn't like the woman I have come to know. You would never intentionally hurt me. That day you were trying to drive me away. Didn't work, did it?” Before she could answer, I flipped her over and started drawing my new theory of how all the threads of my life intersected on her chest. “See, Crowe started …”

DIANA

Terry is the romantic one in this relationship. He is the one to call for no reason in the middle of the day. Several times he had long conversations with Alice, using my precious minutes; she has passed him along to whoever else was riding that day. On more than one occasion, women at the barn have asked for his phone number to be used only if we were to break up. They were only half joking.

He lets me see his goofy side. Terry was trying to put a new string roll on the weed eater; it has frustrated me for years. He ended up with orange filament wrapped everywhere around himself. The kids on the street are now calling our home 'The String Monster House.' We'll have to remember that for next Halloween.

The man is generous to a fault with his time, energy, and money. The money is donated anonymously. He funded and worked on a local Habitat for Humanity home. There was the small sunburn issue when he wouldn't listen to me about roofing without a shirt, but a liberal slathering of Noxema and he was good as new in a couple of days. It was the sleeping on his stomach that prompted the grousing.

I love playing poker with him. Poor bloke can't buy a card. If he has a pair of Jacks, I draw a pair of Kings. I have Dino to thank for telling me how bad a poker player he is. For the next month, I don't have to do the dishes or vacuum. Life is good.

Never let it be said that Terry continued taking orders on leaving the military I can get very dictatorial when under pressure; Terry laughs and lightens my mood. He takes my orders as suggestions and makes me like the outcome. He makes me laugh so easily.

His conversations challenge me. We’ll be discussing a political situation, and I find I have switched sides in the middle. After his head finishes snapping from side to side at my sudden change, he'll laugh and just as easily pick up the alternate side. I can no longer imagine my life without him. Do other people have relationships like this?

I think what I love about him most is that when the day is done, he is just a bloke. A charming, funny, bloke who loves me.

TERRY

“What's bothering you?”

I wasn't sure I wanted to answer Diana directly. I was thinking about my time with her.

“Why do you think anything is bothering me?”

“Normally when I come in from checking on the horses, you snuggle behind me. When you’re about to drop off to sleep, you move your hand down between my legs close to my knees. So far tonight, you've given me a neck rub, a boob massage, and your arm isn't draping over my waist in its normal place. If you flip over one more time, I'm sleeping on the floor with Okie.”

Diana has me twigged. “Nothing's bothering me, but I do have a lot on my mind.”

“Anything you want to tell me?”

“Not really.” She might be able to help me, but I don't want to scare her. Our relationship has changed for the better even if Diana is unwilling to acknowledge it. You can see the movement in the smallest of tangible objects – a key and a magazine subscription. Our relationship is on my mind tonight.

I know so many things about her. When I walk in the door at night, I know how her day has gone and what her mood is by the music she has on the stereo. She claims all her musical tastes are sappy; I prefer to think of them as classic unknown gems. If I hear the 50's station, I know she needs to be loved. If the classic rock station is on, she’s ready to tease and laugh. Classical music means she is ready for a quiet night together.

She reads me well, and I let her see my moods – all of them. She adjusts to me. If I’ve had a rough day, she’s there to listen. Her hand on my arm reassures me that she is connected to me. When she has an idea or solution to my care, her hand becomes restless then dances. Her contribution may not be the ideal answer, though often it is, but it’s always valuable.

Diana talks through any problem or situation until she can synthesize it into a single word or phrase. She has told me that if you can name a thing you can conquer it. Hearing and watching her work through her thoughts and feelings is an amazing event. She begins shrunk within herself; her knees are drawn up; her shoulders slump with her chin tucked into her chest, her arms folded. As her thoughts clarify, she unfolds totally. I believe if her head weren’t tucked back over the top of the sofa, she’d slide off onto the floor. Whoever the other person is in her equation, Diana tries to see the problem from their perspective as well. She looks for their motivations, all of them. Even in the toughest situations, she looks for the most benign motivation from the other person. Her kind heart looks for the goodness in everyone. She is more than willing to accept her responsibility in any misunderstanding. Every word on both sides is examined for meaning, interpretation, and nuance. I have learnt to allow her this process. What she needs from me is the response of a human face, though during the soliloquy she is looking anywhere but at me.

Her insights are fascinating. Rod shows the world the womanizer for fear of being typed as the computer geek. I see him as a natural born letch who happened to be good with code. She works so hard to understand him and shrinks from confronting him.

Her fear of confrontation endears her to me but also infuriates me. She would not hurt someone knowingly for the world; she softens her words when she has to give them what she perceives as bad news. At one staff reduction, she was tasked with giving an older worker her pink slip. The woman was grateful; she had started her own business in her spare time and wanted to devote more time to it. The redundancy gave her the chance to get her feet on the ground. Diana still thinks of her.

I love that Diana cares for me. I do wonder if she loves me. I know she wants me in her life; she doesn't need me in her life. Part of me is freed because she is not needy. Part of me resents it. That knowledge keeps me on edge. Though she has never given me any reason to think it, I fear she will one day kick me to the curb and go on with her life.

I know that I am second to the animals and perhaps rightly so. I can fend for myself. Domesticated animals have lost their ability to fend for themselves for the most part. The horses are fenced without free range to forage for food and water. With the smaller area for them, they are susceptible to health problems that would never occur in the wild.

The only times I have seen Diana sad are when she thinks she has hurt someone. For the most part, she has such a laid back disposition that I sometimes think she could be Australian. Very little upsets her. Her attitude is that there is always a work-around. She can always find another way to accomplish the task that is good enough.

She is quick to laugh. When Dino first met her, he described her voice as having a lilt. There is always a chuckle bubbling beneath her words. She understands my sense of humour, a very important point in my list for my humour can be acerbic and cynical; it can be misunderstood so easily.

Diana is pushing my cynicism aside. She makes me feel hopeful for a good future. I can imagine myself years from now sitting on the back porch with a beer in hand and her by my side watching the colourful sunsets I have come to know here. The sky turns a pink I have never seen before turning pale purple then deepening to midnight blue. She has made me stop to notice the good things in the world. She comforts me.

When I first met her, Diana made me sit down one night to listen to an old Joan Baez song she had remembered. It has a line in it, “You who are so good with words and keeping things vague.” I still haven't figured out if that line was meant to describe me or if it was a request not to try to figure us out. The line may have been meant as her own self definition.

If I had to list the reasons why I love her, I feel words would fail me. I can only describe it in the most general of words. She suits me. My world is right with her in it.

*

Diana was stirring the stroganoff on the stove when I came in to nuzzle her kissing spot – the spot where her neck flows into her shoulder. I felt something.

“What's this then?” I felt her tense.

“It's a spot on my neck.” The light tone in her voice was missing. “I may have been bitten by a bug.”

She definitely did not want to talk about whatever it was, at least not right now.

*

“I made an appointment with the dermatologist today. He can see me Thursday afternoon.”

It seemed Diana was ready to talk tonight. Diana had left the dogs outside after her bedtime check of the horses, a sure sign something was up. It had been several weeks since I first noticed her neck. The spot had been growing rapidly. I had used much restraint in not mentioning it but had noticed it nightly.

“I'm having him take a look at my neck.”

“Good thing. I was about to start nagging you to go even though I knew you would hate me for it.”

“I wouldn't hate you, but nagging brings out my nasty streak. You wouldn't like that; it isn't pretty or becoming.”

“Do you want me to go with you?”

“Bleah. I can get myself to and from the doctor's very well, thank you. I've been going to the doctor by myself for years. I'll be in with him for less than five minutes. No need for you to take the afternoon off.”

She seemed to have more to say, but it wasn't immediately forthcoming. I would wait for her to start.

“Terry, this spot on my neck. It's probably a basal cell. If I have to have skin cancer, it's the best kind to have. It doesn't metastasize. They can be messy, but the doctor either freezes it or cuts it out, and it's done.”

“Will he do that Thursday? The removal?”

“No, he'll schedule another time for that. It keeps his office from running behind.” She had more to say, and took a deep breath before saying it. “This may not be a basal cell.”

I consciously regulated my breathing. We would deal with whatever it was. The waiting to find out is always the hardest part.

“It's not acting like other basal cells I've had. It's grown so fast. Sometimes it has a sharp pain coming from it. The edges are so ragged. That's all different. I'm afraid it might be a melanoma.”

I was afraid it was a melanoma as well. They move quickly to other organs. This might be an uphill battle. Given the location of the spot and its proximity to lymph nodes, her odds would not be good if this was a melanoma.

“You found it quickly so even if it is, you caught it early – lots of options for treatment. I'm sure it's not, though.”

“Terry, I want to be realistic. If it is a melanoma, I will go to the oncologist for more tests. If it has metastasized and is advanced, I don't want any surgery or chemo treatments. There are a few things on my list of things to do before I die that I want to do. I want to see as much of Australia as I can. Then I want to come home and ride for as many days as I can.”

She had thought this through. Her medical treatment was her choice; that was not up for argument no matter what I felt. “If, and that is a big if, if it has progressed and we go to Oz, what will you want me to show you besides the pub where I had my first pint?”

“You wouldn't have to go with me. I could go on my own.”

“Who better to show you around than a native son? You'd get the real local flavour, not the tourist sights. Diana, your first trip to Oz is with me.” If our days together were to be few, we would be together for every swingin' one of them.

“I suppose I could get a guidebook so I have some idea. I know I want to hold a koala. I think I can pass on feeding an alligator. Hmm. Feeding an alligator …that might be a good alternative to waiting.” It was dark humour, but it was there.

“I don't think feeding a alligator would be a good idea. Poor Steve-o's insurance carrier would shit a brick.” The vision of the insurance forms and Steve Irwin made us laugh momentarily before she continued.

“There's a couple of things you need to know. When it gets really bad, all I want is pain management; I don't want to hurt. No feeding tubes, no IV's for nutrition, no hydration. If you can't handle that and want to leave, I fully understand.” I started to explode at her; her gentle finger on my lips silenced me. “You didn't choose me to handle my medical problems. We haven't had enough good times together for me to expect you to go through the bad. Reags has my living will and medical power of attorney; I gave her that authority long before I knew you. She knows exactly how I feel about end of life issues. I know I can trust her to make the same decisions I would. She knows all about comfort care; she’s already travelled that road.” She drew her finger from my lips down to my chin. I took that as permission to speak.

“We may not have said 'for better or for worse,' but if you think I'm only here for good times, for healthy days, you’re wrong. I’m with you for as long as you want me. If you throw me out, I'll be back asking for another chance. I won't argue about Reags making your medical decisions when you can't. If it comes to that, I think she’ll force herself to be in better shape than I will. I refuse to think about losing you now.”

“As you said, we don't have a diagnosis. Let's wait and see. These next two days will be hard.”

Women are far better than men where looking at the cold, hard facts of life – and death – are concerned. Diana had looked at her own and made the decisions long before this cancer appeared. It made the articulation to me easier for her. Her medical wishes were new concepts for me to take about her, ones that would take some getting used to, and over the next two days, I would. If the doctor had bad news, I wanted to be ready for it.

DIANA

Waiting has always been hard for me. When I was alone, I shut down. With Terry I couldn't. He wouldn't let me. Over the next two days, we had some pretty significant discussions. In reality, Terry went in harm's way far more often than I; in addition to his profession, he drove Central every day. He had come to terms with what medical intervention he wanted. He gave me concrete examples. At the end of the two days, I knew precisely what he wanted. Dino kept the medical power of attorney as he was the one most likely to be there in an emergency.

Terry was at peace with his own decisions. What threw him was that I was equally certain of my own wishes. They did not change because we now had each other. If I lost the man I loved quickly or slowly, it would be hard no matter the length of time we had together. He had already given me a lifetime of memories that would sustain me.

Terry called at lunch before I left for the doctor.

“What time's your appointment? Are you sure you don't want me to come along?”

“No, I don't want you to come along. How silly would that be? I have to have some man take me to a quick exam? Nope, not happening, Boomer.” He laughed; I think he is beginning to warm to being called a male kangaroo. Either that or he can hear the love and affection with which it is used. “Appointment is at 3:15. I have some stops to make afterwards, but I should be home by the time you get here.” I really didn't have any errands to run, but I wanted some time alone to digest what the doctor had to say.

“Right then. See you at home.”

*

I waited in Dr. Tarn's outer office just long enough to leaf through the opening pages of a dog eared copy of National Geographic featuring Australia. If he had bad news I would take the magazine with me when I left.

“Diana Walker?”

“That's me.”

I was ushered into his exam room – standard set-up except for the two home quality wing chairs where he does most of his exams. After all, the man is a dermatologist. He treats kid's acne most of the day.

He has the limpest handshake of any man I have ever met, but his method of injecting lidocaine more than makes up for his greeting. He checked the places on my arms where he had removed the basal cells last year. He couldn't find them which pleased both of us greatly.

“What brings you in today?”

I leaned my head to the right and pointed at the growth. “This.”

Dr. Tarn dropped his glasses down on his nose to get a better look. “Another basal cell. Spring? Schedule ten minutes.” Spring is his assistant’s name …isn’t that unusual? “As you know ....” He always recaps information on the cancer. I had used his exact words with Terry two nights ago. I didn't listen to the rest of what he said. I started wiggling in my chair doing a seated version of a happy dance.

“Are you sure it's a basal cell? It doesn't act like my other ones.”

“I won't be certain until I get the lab report back, but I am reasonably sure.” He was up and moving to the door.

“I was afraid it was a melanoma.”

He spun on his heel and sat in the wing chair next to me again. He began reassuring me it was not a melanoma and reiterated his same explanation of basal cells that we both knew by heart.

He gave me a pat on the shoulder as he left. “I'm glad your diagnostic skills haven't surpassed mine yet.”

I treated the office gals to the full-bodied version of the happy dance. It's a pity they couldn't see my feet behind the counter. They’re rarely treated to a patient being delighted about setting an appointment for an excision.

As I left the office and drove home, I noticed how bright and sunny the day was. City and freeway traffic didn't bother me. It was a lovely day.

I checked the rear view mirror as I came to a full stop at the stop sign close to home; our town's version of Barney Fife enjoys filling his traffic stop quota there. A black Jag slid to a stop behind me. I could be evil and wait till we got home to tell him. I considered it for only a moment; if I didn't give him some sign right now, I could imagine him out-driving me, forcing me to a stop on the curves up ahead, and using his best interrogation skills, getting me to talk. I couldn't do that to him. I gave him a thumb's up through the truck's back window.

*

“I acceded to your wishes not to go to the exam. I WILL be going when he removes the lesion.”

“There is no need for you to take a whole day off! It's minor. It's nothing. I'll take some aspirin for the pain and some Tylenol PM later. I'll sleep all the rest of the day.”

“While you're asleep, I'll make some phone calls and work from here.”

Will I ever learn? When Terry wants to do something nothing will stop him. We had been having this same discussion in various forms since the day I met him – my independence versus his need to care for me. I couldn't believe we were still having the same conversation on the morning of the doctor's follow up visit to have the spot taken off.

Why am I so adamant on doing things by myself? Habit. Old habits die hard.

“If I concede you don't need me to take you, will you allow me to take you?”

I sighed. “Yes.” I do know when I'm beaten. “Get your keys, or we'll be late.” He pocketed the aspirin bottle and smiled at me.

“I may miss the little bugger. It gave me a target.”

*

I was sitting on the exam table. Terry was standing behind me with his hands mostly on my shoulders. His thumbs had snuck under the neck of his t-shirt; I had worn it in the hopes that its sloppiness on me would disguise the fact that I was braless to the rest of the world. I would be living in that t-shirt for the next couple of days, not taking it off to avoid rubbing the surgical spot. If I’d worn a bra, even getting out of it without removing the shirt would cause the neckline to rub the spot. So, I was dressed – at least from the waist up – in what I’d be wearing for the next 48 hours. I had just told Terry about Dr. Tarn giving good lidocaine, and he was laughing when the doctor walked in the room.

Dr. Tarn was slightly concerned that someone would be in the room while he 'operated' on me. The only thing that resembled an operation was the scalpel he would use to cut the surface of my skin. Terry and I both assured him that Terry in the room would be fine; I handed him the note I had written in the car on the way down to that effect, thus absolving him of all responsibility if Terry passed out and cracked his head on the floor or I ended up with an infection from Terry's germs. I think by now Terry and I are inoculated against each other's germs. We've shared beers, food, spit, various other bodily fluids …everything but a toothbrush.

“You won't faint or anything, will you?” Dr. Tarn asked Terry.

“I saw combat, Doctor. I’ve seen far worse than what Diana described as happening today.” I could only hope Terry wasn't being overly optimistic about his abilities.

“Well, all right.” I could see the clock in Dr. Tarn's head ticking.

Terry nudged the light over and took my hand; Dr. Tarn switched the surgical lamp on. He tilted my head towards Terry, measured what he would be excising, and swabbed my neck with ether, checking Terry's reaction as Spring handed him the syringe of lidocaine. Terry had no reaction to the needle being brandished about; I did.

“Okay, Diana, time to lie down on the table.” That from Dr. Tarn.

The needle slipped in, and I felt a little sting as the solution flowed. I squinched my right eye before the numbing took over. Terry smoothed my face before moving his hand to my tightly clenched thigh.

“Relax, Diana. You’re the one who told me it would be easy.” I took a deep breath and wiggled my feet. It works while I'm riding; why wouldn't it work here?

Terry had me right where he wanted me. I couldn't talk. If I spoke, my neck would move, and God knows what would get cut. That didn't mean my eyes weren't shouting, “You are a mean, evil man, Terry Thorne!” He smiled.

Tarn cut around the area and dropped the tumor into a specimen container. When he started scraping, I thought he would put a knee in my chest for leverage. Apparently the scraping interested Terry as he leaned over me to watch.

“I need to be sure I get clear margins.” I felt like some biology lab experiment for these two. He straightened as he finished, talking away. “Spring will clean you up and give you the wound care instructions. Be sure to call if you notice anything unusual.”

Spring asked me to sit up so she could put a band aid on my neck. Terry lifted me to a sitting position. I could only shake my head. The office visit had been a piece of piss. The question was whether I would survive the post-op nursing care.

Terry lifted me off the table taking most of my weight, and we walked to the checkout desk with Terry still supporting me. Who knew that a little piece of skin would be blown into such a big deal? I should have. The bookkeeper smiled as we walked up; she could barely contain her mirth. “Got any cups here, Love? Diana will need some water to take these Pannies.”

The bookkeeper pointed to the rack on the wall beside the drinking fountain next to him. Terry put my hands on the counter. “Stay right there, don't move.” I suppose he thought I would fall over from blood loss if I wasn't hanging onto something.

The bookkeeper mouthed, “Pannies?” to me. I mouthed, “Tylenol,” back to her. She continued our silent conversation with, “Oh,” and nodded her head. I took my debit card from my pocket and slid it to her quickly before Terry could see I had moved and risked bleeding out.

He handed me the pills and the water being sure he had his hands at my waist so I wouldn't topple over from the effort. I knocked back the pills, finished the water, crushed the paper cup and scored two points from my toss into the trash can. I signed the bill, and we left the office with Terry's arm around me. I think he would have carried me if he thought he could get away with it.

*

I am unused to someone taking care of me, particularly since it was something so minor. I had been through this before; after the lidocaine wore off, it would hurt a little. Two Tylenol PM and I would sleep through it.

Terry tried unsuccessfully not to hover. That afternoon each time he heard a rustle from our bedroom, he would appear at the door. It didn't matter if it was the dogs rearranging themselves or me plumping the pillow. I sometimes thought he was afraid the dogs would smell the open wound and try to eat the fresh meat. Okie was thrilled to spend the afternoon in bed; he didn't care why. Holly was interested in the new smells from the ether and the antiseptic. One sniff from three feet away, and she was satisfied.

I appreciated the care. I was particularly glad that I felt well enough to enjoy it. What I didn't like was being treated like a china teacup.

Since I had napped periodically during day, I was not ready to sleep at bed time. Another dose of the Tylenol PM was in order, or I would keep Terry up all night. He did need to go to the office tomorrow. I noticed the bandage was curling around the edges so it might as well come off now. So much for Spring's after care.

Terry came in from the barn while I was in the bathroom. I heard him call, “Diana?”

“I'm taking some more Tylenol.” He was behind me in a flash. He didn't seem pleased that I was up, much less that I was taking off the bandage.

“You’re supposed to keep it covered until tomorrow morning.”

“This is your first time through this. The quicker it can scab over, the quicker it will heal. If it scars, what's one more? It's the price I'm paying for having been a beach bunny.” I’m paying now for all those years surfing. “A little Polysporin on it, and I'm back in bed. I promise.” He looked doubtful.

“There is something you can do for me in the morning.” I settled into the same position I had been in for the last 12 hours; this was getting old fast. “Will you go out to feed with me and move some of the hay bales from the top? I think pulling one of them down will break the scab open.” There is a science to stacking and using hay bales. You must always be sure that there is a series of ascending bales to climb and use the highest bale first. One good tug and the bale will bounce on the floor ready to use.

“I had to pull one down tonight.” He settled on the far side of the bed. I couldn't even reach him. “What makes you think you’re feeding in the morning?”

“By morning my neck will be sore, and the movement will do me good. Think of it as physical therapy. It'll be fine.” I scooted across the bed to where he lay with his back to me. “I'm still me; a little less of me than before, but I won't break.” He was having none of it. Extraordinary measures were necessary. I climbed over him and knelt on the floor beside him.

“You told the doc that you had seen worse. What's so different about me?”

TERRY

What was different was this is the woman I love.

NOTES

Central

Central Expressway in Dallas, Texas; it is called 75 alternately with ‘Central.’ In prior stories we have called it by its number. Locals see driving on Central/75 as a God-given opportunity to take your life in your hands …and lose.