Lieutenant Crockett paced the hallway outside of Treatment Room Four impatiently, his temper close to the boiling point. “What can they be doing in there?” he growled. “I'm going to give them fifteen more minutes; then I'm breaking down this door!” he vowed.

Before the officer had a chance to make good on his promise, the door opened and Louisa came out, a wide grin on her face. In her hand, she held the gun Jack Kellogg had pulled out of his pocket. She winked at her husband and handed the pistol to Crockett. “I've got a little present for you, Lieutenant,” she said with a saucy lilt to her voice. “Don't worry, it's not loaded. The shells are in my pocket.” She looked at the group huddled around the base station. “Don't you hose jockeys have someplace else you could be?” she chuckled. “Go make yourselves useful and put out a fire or something instead of standing around looking foolish.”

Crockett stared at her in surprise. “Where's Kellogg and his father?” he demanded bluntly.

“Keep your shirt on,” shot back the young woman. “They'll be out in a minute.” She spotted the handcuffs Crockett was holding. “In case you get any bright ideas, buster, I'm not pressing charges, so put away that costume jewelry.”

Vince Howard choked back a laugh. “I take it that you aren't hurt, Mrs. Stanley?” he snickered.

“Do I look like I'm bleeding anywhere, Vince?” grinned Louisa. Her eyes slid sideways at Chet and Marco, who were trying unsuccessfully to hide their smiles. “What are you two clowns smirking at? What did you do? Catch a glimpse of your faces in a mirror?”

Dr. Early ducked behind the base station, laughing hysterically. When he was able to speak, he said, “Yup, she's fine.” He wiped tears from his face with a handkerchief.

Louisa giggled. “You know me, Joe. It takes more than being held hostage to ruffle my feathers.” She glanced back over her shoulder as the treatment room door open again. Jack Kellogg and his father emerged, talking softly. Crockett leaped forward, handcuffs ready. “Jack Kellogg, you're under arrest for unlawful imprisonment, attempted murder, and discharge of a firearm within the city limits.” He went on, reading Jack his rights, until Louisa grabbed his arm. “If you're that set on arresting someone, Lieutenant, take me in, too. Like I told you before, I'm not pressing charges.”

“Don't tempt me, Mrs. Stanley,” growled Crockett. “You're damn lucky not to be lying in a hospital bed like Mrs. Brackett. Now, get out of my way.”

The young woman shook her head stubbornly. “If you won't arrest me, I'll ask Officer Howard. What do you say, Vince? Wanna make a good collar?” she laughed, adopting a Brooklyn accent. “Either way, I'm going down to the station with you. I promised Jack that I would stay with him.”

Mike stepped forward, trying in vain to reason with his sister. “Lou, are you insane? This guy could have killed you? What are you thinking?!?”

“Cool your jets, Mikey,” retorted Louisa. “I know what I'm doing. Stay out of it.” Her chin thrust forward in a gesture he knew all too well. She winked at the younger Kellogg. “It will be okay, Jack, trust me. I'll see that you get the help you need.”

“I do, Louisa,” smiled the veteran. “I owe you a lot. I hope I can repay you someday.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The Police Station

Captain Flanagan's face turned red when Crockett told him what had gone on at Rampart. He speared Louisa with a disbelieving look. “Please tell me he's kidding, Mrs. Stanley. This lunatic could have killed you and you won't press charges?”

The young woman's temper exploded. “Jack Kellogg is not a lunatic!” she shouted. “Don't you dare refer to him that way!” She took a breath to calm her nerves. “Captain, did you serve in Vietnam ?” At the Captain's nod, she went on. “So did Jack. You of all people should know what he experienced and how it affected him. Okay, maybe busting into a hospital packing a gun wasn't the smartest thing in the world, but he needs counseling, not prison.” She folded her arms stubbornly across her chest. “Jack told me some of what he saw in ‘ Nam . I swear on the lives of my children, Captain, if you send him to prison, you better be able to live with yourself, because it will kill him.”

Flanagan rested his chin on his hand and stared at her. “He might end up there anyway, once I get a statement from Dixie Brackett.”

Louisa snorted derisively. “Don't be so sure of that, sir. Dixie's brother served in ‘ Nam , too.” She glanced at Crockett, who stood just inside the office door. “Do you have to stand there gawking at me? I want to speak to the Captain in private, if you don't mind.”

“Wait out in the hall, Lieutenant. Go on, Mrs. Stanley.”

“I'm telling you this in confidence, Captain. Six months after Dixie's brother came home from Vietnam , he committed suicide. She told me that he left a note saying he couldn't live with all the atrocities he saw while in the Army.” Her voice turned pleading. “I'm afraid if Jack goes to prison, he'll end up the same way. Some of the things he told me made my skin crawl. He's already seeing a psychiatrist. At least get Dr. Cruz's opinion before you make a decision.”

Flanagan leaned back in his chair and sighed heavily. “I suppose I could do that,” he allowed. “But, if Kellogg hurts someone else if he goes free, I'm holding you responsible.”

Louisa grinned, her eyes shining with triumph. “He won't; you have my word.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

One Month Later

Dr. Mario Cruz rose from his chair to greet Louisa and Dixie as they entered his office. “Ladies,” he said, extending a hand in welcome, “thank you for coming. I'm glad to see you up and about again, Mrs. Brackett.”

“Thanks,” muttered Dixie . “What's this all about?”

The psychiatrist chuckled. “Kel told me you get right to the point,” he joked. “I asked you to come here because Jack has something he wants to say to both of you.” He pressed the intercom on his desk. “Holly, would you ask Jack to come in now?”

Kellogg walked in, a sheepish grin on his clean-shaven face. His eyes lit up when he saw Louisa and he stepped forward to hug her. “Hi, Lou. It's nice to see you again. Hello, Mrs. Brackett.”

Louisa's jaw dropped at the change in the veteran's appearance. “Jack, you look wonderful!” she beamed.

“So do you. Um, I'm happy both of you are here. I guess I have some explaining to do.” He dropped into a chair and ran a shaking hand through his hair. First of all, I'm truly sorry for what I did to you. What I did was wrong. I know it's no excuse, but I wasn't myself that day. I was looking for someone to blame for what happened to me during the war and you ladies were handy. I realize now that it wasn't anyone's fault but my own. Dr. Cruz has helped me deal with some of the stuff that happened to me over there. Mrs. Brackett, you may not believe this, but I never planned to shoot anyone that day. I hope someday that you can forgive me.”

Dixie sat in her chair, her mouth hanging open. She stared hard at Jack, digesting his words. Finally, a smile turned up the corner of her lips. “ Vietnam did a lot of damage to many people, Mr. Kellogg,” she said softly. “My own brother, for one. He was never the same after he returned home. His time in combat haunted him in a way I never quite understood. I see now that you were affected the same way he was.” She leaned forward and laid her hand on Jack's knee. “I'm very glad that you are getting the help you need to get past all this. As for forgiving you, I was ready to have you locked up for the rest of your life. After talking with Louisa, I know that isn't the solution. I don't hold what you did against you. I didn't appreciate a bullet in my shoulder, but, like the old saying goes, time heals all wounds.”

Jack smiled gratefully, tears shining in his eyes. “Dr. Cruz has pointed that out, ma'am,” he said. “I'm really sorry about what happened to your brother.”

Dixie smiled faintly and wiped her eyes with a tissue. She glanced at Louisa and stood up. “I wish you luck in your recovery, Mr. Kellogg,” she said. “Are you ready to go, Louisa?”

The young woman chuckled. “I guess so, Dix. I promised Chet I would help him fix that classic piece of junk he drives. The attempt alone should be worth a laugh or twelve.” She extended a hand to Jack. “Take care, Jack. I'll visit you in a couple weeks.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Later That Afternoon

Johnny stood leaning against his Rover, arms crossed and a wide smirk on his face. “Chet, the only thing that clunker needs is a quick trip to the junkyard,” he needled. “It's a lost cause, man.”

“Don't be so sure, Gage,” replied the Irishman. “I have a very skilled mechanic working for me.” He looked up when the Stanley 's front door swung open. “And here she comes now.”

Louisa bounced down the front steps, clad in a t-shirt and a pair of cut-off jean shorts that showed off her long, tanned legs. Her dark hair was twisted into a long plaint that hung down her back. “All right, boys. Let's get to work. Kelly, did you bring your toolbox?”

“Sure did, Lou,” grinned Chet. “Where do you want to start?”

The young woman winked at Johnny. “Try popping the hood, genius,” she laughed. “We'll start on the engine.” She waved as Mike and Marco pulled into the driveway. “Nice threads, Mikey,” she teased, taking in the engineer's tattered overalls. “Where's your straw hat?”

“Very funny, joked Stoker. “I ran into Charlie at the hardware store. When he found out what you were doing, he practically begged for a ring-side seat.”

Chet's eyebrows shot up. “Just what I need. Charlie cracking jokes at my expense.”

“Relax, Chester B.,” answered Louisa, her eyes twinkling. “He might be able to help us out here. This thing is in worse shape than my Mustang when I bought it.” She picked up a wrench from the toolbox and leaned over into the engine compartment. Her nose wrinkled in disgust as she wiped grease away with a rag. “Kelly, how long has it been since you degreased this monstrosity? There's more goop on this engine than there was in Elvis's hair.”

The men laughed at the comparison. “I didn't know you had to,” protested the Irishman. “Is that important?”

Louisa shook her head in disbelief. “You're unbelievable,” she grumbled. “I thought men were supposed to know about cars. I guess I was mistaken.” After a brief struggle, she removed the air cleaner and tossed it aside. “Good Lord, Kelly! This carburetor looks like the back end of a mine tunnel! What a mess!”

An hour later, most of the engine had been dismantled and was laid out on a sheet in the lawn. “Okay, Chet, get on the creeper and remove the oil pan for me,” instructed Louisa. She wiped her cheek with the back of her hand, leaving behind a streak of grease.

Johnny burst out laughing. “You look like a football player,” he snorted.

“Oh, really?” teased the young woman, sliding her dirty hand across his forehead. “ You look like a warrior all painted up for battle. Where's your bow and arrows, Tonto?”

A volley of curses spewed from underneath the van. Seconds later, Chet rolled into view, his face and hair covered in oil. “Damn thing's got a hole in it!” he growled.

Louisa leaned against the van's bumper, laughing hysterically and pointing at the Irishman. “Chet, you look like the tar baby from that Uncle Remus story!” she gasped breathlessly. She lost her balance and fell onto her rump, still howling. The rest of the men, including Charlie, who had just arrived, joined in, their voices adding to the din. Hank heard the commotion and came out of the house, wondering what was going on. The instant he spotted Chet, a wide grin nearly split his face in half. “Interesting way to get a facial, Kelly,” he commented.

“Will someone please give me a rag to get this junk off?” muttered Chet. “Stop laughing at me! It's not that funny!”

“Yes it is, amigo ,” snickered Marco. “I wonder how you would look with a pompadour. Anyone got a comb?”

“Don't even think about it,” grumbled Chet, wiping his mustache. “Are you gonna sit there all day, Lou? Geez, what a bunch of morons.”

Hank reached down and hauled his wife to her feet. “That's enough, honey. In case you forgot, you did the same thing while you were fixing the tractor a few weeks ago.”

Louisa blushed rosily. “Yeah, you're right. Sorry, Chet, but you looked so goofy covered in oil. Did you get any in your eyes?”

The Irishman shrugged. “Nah, they're all right. Maybe I shouldn't have hit the pan with the screwdriver,” he admitted sheepishly.

“You got that right,” snickered Mike. “Maybe you should let people who know what they're doing take over.”

Chet grinned and handed his screwdriver to Louisa. The young woman took the tool, her cheeks still flushed from laughing, and crawled under the van. “Her voice floated out, tinged with mirth. “Kelly, you knucklehead! There's a hole in the oil pan the size of my fist!” She grunted with effort as she loosened the bolts holding the part to the van. Half a minute later, the damaged pan flew across the driveway, landing at Hank's feet. “Somebody hand me a nine-sixteenths wrench.. Come loose, you blasted thing.” She let out a yelp and slid from under the vehicle, oil spotting her forehead. “You missed draining the filter, Chester ,” she giggled. She glared when Johnny raised his camera and captured the moment.

“This will look good on the bulletin board in the doctor's lounge,” he joked. “But, I'll save the ones of Chet for Headquarters. Smile pretty, darling.”

“Like this?” asked the young woman, falling into a series of exaggerated poses while the paramedic called out encouragement. Charlie watched their antics, the corner of his mouth turning up into a grin.

“Perfect!” crowed Johnny between snorts of laughter. “We'll call it ‘Grease Monkey of the Month'. Now, hold up your wrench, babe! Okay, tear your shirt a little. Ooh la la!”

Hank and Marco glanced at each other, struggling to contain themselves. The Captain rolled his eyes dramatically, sending the Latino fireman into a fit of hysteria. Charlie glowered at them, not getting the joke. “Will someone tell me what is so damn funny?” he demanded.

“Ignore them, Charlie,” called Louisa. “They forgot to take their normal pills this morning. Will you two stop howling like a pair of drunken hyenas and help us clean up this mess?”

Captain Stanley wiped his streaming eyes and grinned. “Yes, dear,” he squeaked. “Are you and Gage done playing model and photographer?”

“For the moment,” chuckled Johnny. “ Roy is gonna be sorry he missed this. Too bad his mother-in-law picked today to visit.”

“Don't worry, Johnny,” snickered Louisa. The entire extended Desoto clan will be here soon enough. I called Joanne earlier and invited them over for supper.” She looked up as Roy 's station wagon turned into the driveway. “Speak of the devil. Hank, go ahead and light the grill while Chet and I wash up. Come on, Chester . I've got something that will take the oil out of your mustache.”

One look at Roy told Johnny what his partner was feeling. Desoto had a stormy expression on his normally cheery face. “Welcome to the House of Stanley,” said the junior paramedic. “Hello, Harriet. Nice to see you again.”

Joanne's mother sniffed in annoyance. “What's going on here?” she asked. “It looks like a used car lot.”

Mike stepped in before anyone else could answer. “My sister offered to help Chet fix up his van. They just got started.”

“Fixing or trashing?” smiled Joanne. “It's hard to tell at this point. Where did all this oil come from?”

Louisa appeared in the doorway, drying her hands on a towel. “Hey, everyone. Come on in and make yourselves comfortable.” She smiled at her guests. “Hi, Harriet. Can I get you something to drink?”

The older woman looked pleased. “Yes, thank you,” she answered politely, much to Roy 's surprise. “I brought some potato salad for our little picnic.”

The young woman grinned. “You didn't have to do that. I just made a fresh jug of iced tea. Mint, your favorite, I think.”

“How sweet of you to remember, Louisa,” replied Harriet. She entered the house. “Did you get new curtains in here, dear?” she asked. “They're lovely.”

“Thanks,” said Louisa, handing her guest a full glass. “Did the kids come with you, Jo?”

Joanne shook her head. “No, Jennifer and Chris are spending the weekend with friends. Can we do anything to help?”

“Nah, just sit back and relax while the guys get the grill going. If we're lucky, we won't need the hose this time.” The women shared a laugh, remembering Hank's mishap with his new propane grill. “My rose bushes still haven't recovered from last time yet,” giggled Louisa.

While the ladies chatted, the men gathered in the back yard, sipping beer and listening as Hank rhapsodized about his new grill. “Hey, Cap, when did Lou and my mother-in-law get so chummy?” questioned Roy .

The Captain shrugged. “Beats me,” he said. “Be glad someone gets along with her, pal.”

“I wish she would share her secret with me,” grinned the senior paramedic. “I've never seen Harriet be so nice. How's the repair work going, Chet?”

Marco burst out laughing. “You missed the best part, Roy ,” he snickered. “Chet was trying to get the oil pan off and ended up with it all over his face!”

“And I missed it?!?” said Roy incredulously. “Johnny, please tell me you took pictures.”

Gage waggled his eyebrows expressively. “I got a few good ones of Mrs. Cap brandishing a wrench, too, while wearing a torn t-shirt, I might add,” he grinned.

“Oh, yeah?” questioned Desoto with a sly smile. “Can't wait to see those,” he joked, earning a glare from his superior.

“Drool over your own wife, pal,” replied Hank good-naturedly. “Though I have to admit, she did look pretty good.”

At that moment, Louisa came out of the house, followed by Joanne and Harriet. The young woman was carrying a platter heaped high with raw hamburgers. “Is that thing ready or are you guys just shooting the breeze out here?” she teased.

“Where's your wrench, Lou?” Roy couldn't resist asking.

The young woman leveled a stare at Johnny. “I'll give you a hundred bucks to hand over that roll of film, pal.” Cooperate and no one will get hurt,” she threatened playfully.

“Now, wait a minute, honey,” put in Hank, his eyes sparkling with glee. “I, for one, want to see those pictures. I might liven up the station a little. Be a sport.”

Louisa winked at Harriet and Joanne before answering. “In that case, maybe you should put on of those lingerie shots up instead. You know, the one featuring the black lace teddy and cowboy boots? Wasn't that your favorite? If those aren't to your liking, how about you in your Dalmatian boxer shorts?

Chet's head shot up. “I haven't heard about those,” he snickered. “Do tell, Cap.”

The Captain's face turned red. “Never mind,” he mumbled. “Forget I said anything. Who's hungry? I better get these burgers cooking.”

Mike threw an arm around his sister's shoulder and whispered in her ear. “I want to see that picture, Lou,” he chuckled.

“I'll put it up right next to the one of you watering the lawn in your underwear,” giggled Louisa. “Maybe Lara and I should publish a calendar of you guys.”

The engineer blushed. “You mean she showed you? Oh man, I'll never live that down.”

“I think you look kinda cute, big brother,” grinned his sister. “You have the sweetest little dimples in your knees.”

Louisa joined Harriet and Joanne at the picnic table and they watched as the men played a spirited game of touch football. Hank stood off to one side, busy with the hamburgers. The young woman chuckled softly as Johnny and Chet argued over a play. “Those two are at it again,” she commented. “If they ever get tired of being firemen, they can always go into politics.”

Harriet laughed quietly. “How do you like being a nurse, Louisa?” she asked. “Joanne told me what happened to you and Dixie . I'm surprised the guy didn't go to prison.”

“It's never dull, that's for sure. As for Jack, he didn't mean to hurt Dix. His time in Vietnam did more damage than anyone thought. After spending most of the day in the treatment room with him, I realized that doing time wouldn't solve his problems. I'm just glad Dr. Cruz is making so much progress with him.”

The older woman shuddered. “It's a miracle you weren't hurt. I would have been terrified!”

“Between us ladies, I was ,” answered Louisa. “Hank wanted me to quit, but I told him that my job isn't half as dangerous as his. He saw my point of view after we ‘discussed' it.” A smile flashed across her face. “He's happy that I didn't take the job I was originally offered at the Psych Center .”

“ Roy had a risky job, too,” persisted Harriet. “I've told my daughter over and over he should do something safer.”

Joanne frowned and started to speak in defense of her husband, but Louisa interrupted her. “ Roy is one of the best paramedics in the entire department,” she said fiercely. “If it wasn't for him and Johnny, a lot of people wouldn't be alive today. You should be proud of him, instead of carping on how dangerous his job can be.” She took a deep breath and went on. “In fact, if Johnny hadn't be with me the first time I got hurt, I probably wouldn't be here either. Have I ever told you about that?”

Harriet raised an eyebrow and shook her head. “No, what happened?”

The young woman grinned, knowing that she had the woman's full attention. “It was before Hank and I got together. Johnny and I went riding in the canyon above his ranch and I slipped on a patch of loose gravel. I cracked my head on a rock and knocked myself out. Johnny found an old stretcher and got me back to his place and called the paramedics. If he hadn't acted as quickly as he had, I could have died. As it was, I still spent a while in the hospital. You see, paramedics are worth having around. Lord knows they love their jobs. It gets my blood up listening to them talk about the rescues they go on. I thought about joining the program once, too. I'm sure you already know this, but Roy was in the first class. He's the one that signed Johnny up in the first place. If it wasn't for him, the program never would have made it this far.”

Joanne's eyes filled with tears. “She's right, Mom,” she whispered. “ Roy may not make as much money as some people, but I would never ask him to give up a job he loves and believes in.”

Harriet bit her lip as she thought about what she had just heard. “I guess I have been a little hard on him. I never realized how important his job is. Louisa, could you get me more information on the paramedic program? That way, I could get a better understanding of what they do.”

The young woman shared a triumphant look with Joanne. “I suppose I could,” she smiled. “I still have the manuals I bought when I was thinking about joining up. I'll go get them. Jo, do me a favor, will you? Tell my husband to finish cooking those burgers before we all waste away to nothing.” She went into the house and searched for the paramedic manuals in her loaded bookcase.

While she was gone, Harriet sat quietly, thinking hard about what her hostess had said. Suddenly, she saw Roy in a different light. The man stayed with his job not to annoy her or to deprive his wife and children of luxuries, but because he loved what he did. A blush rose up her neck and a feeling of shame came over her. “How could I be so blind?” she said to herself. “ Roy must hate me for the way I act around him.” She watched her son-in-law as he tussled with his shift-mates. “Louisa and Joanne are right; he is a good man. It's high time I told him that myself.” Determined to set things right, she got up from the table and approached the laughing men. She laid a hand on Roy 's arm and smiled. “ Roy , could I speak to you for a moment?”

The senior paramedic stared at her incredulously. “Uh, sure, Harriet,” he replied, confused. “Something wrong?”

The older woman smiled. “No, except for the way I've been treating you since you married my daughter. I owe you a long overdue apology for all the grief I've given you about you job. I was wrong to think you were denying my daughter and grandchildren a good life. Can you forgive a foolish old woman for being so hard-headed?”

Roy 's jaw dropped in complete and total bewilderment. “What brought on this sudden change?” he asked suspiciously.

“Let's just say I've seen the light and leave it at that,” answered Harriet.

Desoto's grin lit up his face. “Whatever or whoever it was, I owe them a debt of gratitude,” he chuckled. “I guess I could let you off the hook. Jo will be glad for the peace and quiet. Level with me; what made you change your mind?”

The woman flushed guiltily. “I had an eye-opening conversation with your Captain's wife,” she admitted. “She kind of pounded some sense into me. Louisa should do your public relations,” she chuckled. “In her eyes, all paramedics are just one step below super heroes. Tell me, Roy , when does the Department hand out your capes?”

Roy burst out laughing. “Faster than a speeding riptide, more powerful than a brush fire, able to leap tall squads in a single bound, it's ‘Super Medic!” he joked. “I'll take the cape, but you can keep the tights!”

Louisa came back outside and smiled when she saw Roy and Harriet joking around. She went to stand next to her husband and Joanne. “I take you had a hand in this, honey?” asked Hank. “Maybe you should go back to college and get your degree in psychology. Whatever you said did the trick!”

Johnny stared in amazement at his partner and Harriet, wondering what had brought about the sudden change in the woman's attitude. His curiosity got the best of him and he walked over to investigate. He got the shock of his life when Harriet hugged him tightly. “What was that for?” he stammered.

“For being you,” replied the older woman. “And for doing a much-needed service to the community.”

“I'll explain it to you later, Junior,” grinned Roy , amused by his partner's befuddled expression.

“I think we should break that up before poor Johnny' brain explodes,” giggled Joanne.

“Good idea, Jo,” answered Louisa. “The burgers done, Hank? Good! Come and get it!” she shouted.

For the rest of the afternoon, Gage and Desoto basked in Harriet's admiration as she asked question after question about the paramedic program. Both men regaled her with stories about their various rescues, including a certain incident involving a heavy-set woman and her girdle. The older woman giggled girlishly and begged for more. From their seats at the end of the table, Joanne and Louisa shared a smile. “Maybe now Roy won't be so grumpy when Mother comes to visit,” whispered Joanne. “How in the world did you do it?”

Louisa shrugged nonchalantly. “Beats me,” she admitted. “Are you complaining?”

Before Joanne could answer, Harriet sat down beside her, a broad smile on her face. “The program is so fascinating !” she stressed. “I can't wait to read more about it!”

Inside the house, the phone rang, interrupting the conversation. “Don't get up, Hank,” said his wife. “I'll get it.” She went back into the house and picked up the telephone. “ Stanley residence, Louisa speaking.”

“Mrs. Stanley, this is Dr. Cruz. I'm sorry to interrupt your evening, but I thought you would like to know. Jack's father passed away a couple hours ago.”

The young woman blanched. “Oh no! How's he taking it?” she asked, tears welling up in her eyes.

“Not very well, I'm afraid. That's why I'm calling. He could use a friend right now. Would you be able to come to the hospital and talk to him?”

“Of course, I'll be there in about half an hour,” answered Louisa. “Just let me tell my guests what's going on.”

“Thank you so much,” said Cruz. “I'll see you in a little while.”

Louisa hung up and left the house, her face sad. Chet immediately noticed her mood and rested a hand on her shoulder. “Lou? You all right? What's wrong?”

The young woman squeezed his hand and tried to smile. “That was Dr. Cruz,” she said quietly. “Jeffrey Kellogg died a few hours ago. He said Jack isn't taking it very well and wants me to talk to him.”

“After everything that creep did to you, you're actually gonna help him?” demanded Mike, his face stormy. “The guy doesn't deserve your help, little sister.”

Louisa's eyes flashed angrily. “I don't expect you to understand, Michael!” she shot back. “You don't have any idea what Jack went through. Everyone, please stay and enjoy yourselves. Hank, I'll be back in a few hours.” She turned and went back into the house and scooped up her keys and purse.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Dr. Cruz's Office, Mercy General

Jack Kellogg sat in his chair, trying in vain to hold back his tears. “It's not fair, Doc!” he moaned. “My Dad and I were getting to know each other again! Why did he have to die now?”

“I don't know, Jack,” replied Cruz softly. He looked up when Louisa knocked on the door and pushed it open. “Mrs. Stanley, thank you for coming. I'll give two some privacy.”

The young woman nodded her thanks and sat down beside Jack. “I'm so sorry about your father,” she said quietly. She reached out to wrap her arms around the veteran, sharing his grief. “Go ahead and let it out; you'll feel better,” she encouraged.

Kellogg buried his face in her shoulder and sobbed convulsively. “We were getting along so well,” he whimpered. “I wanted more time with him. Why did he have to die?”

“I asked myself that same question when my own father passed away,” Louisa whispered. “My Mami explained that God needed Papi in Heaven. I know it's no comfort, but your Dad is whole and well again, Jack. He's not suffering anymore. He's probably looking down on you right now and telling your Mom how you two mended fences before he was called home.”

Jack sniffled and pulled away. “I never thought about it like that,” he admitted ruefully. “But, I'm all alone now. I ain't got nobody.”

Louisa grinned. “You've got me and Dr. Cruz. What are we?” she teased gently. “Chopped liver?”

Kellogg chuckled. “Nah, you look too good for that. I know it's a lot to ask, but will you help me make final arrangement for Dad? I don't know what to do.”

“You bet. What kind of funeral do you think your father would have wanted? Something simple or more elaborate? I didn't have much of a chance to get to know him well. Did he have a will?”

“The lady at the nursing home gave me a bunch of papers,” replied Jack. “They're in that box over there.” He pointed to cardboard carton sitting next to Cruz's desk. “It might in there.”

Louisa smiled and got up to bend over the box. She shuffled through the documents and found a thick folder. Opening it, she found Jeffrey Kellogg last will and testament. “This has his lawyer's name, address, and phone number on it. Dennis St. Clair,” she read. “Do you want to call or shall I?”

“I will,” said Jack. He picked up the phone and dialed. Several rings later, St. Clair answered, sounding gruff. “Yeah, what do you want?” he blustered.

“Mr. St. Clair, this is Jack Kellogg. You drew up a will for my father, Jeffrey. Well, sir, he passed away today.”

The lawyer's tone changed. “Sorry to hear that,” he said. “Your Dad was a good man. Can you be in my office at nine o'clock Monday morning? We can go over the estate then.”

“I'll be there,” answered Jack. “A friend of mine will be coming, too, if that's all right.”

“Fine, fine,” said St. Clair. “My condolences, son.”

“Thank you. See you Monday.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Five Days Later

“Honey, I'm leaving now,” Louisa called up the stairs. Hank stuck his head out of the bathroom door, the lower half of his face covered in shaving cream. “Where's a camera when I need one?” she teased. “I'll be back a little after two o'clock.”

“Okay, sweetheart. Don't forget that Kelly will be here this afternoon.”

“I won't; see you later.” The young woman smoothed down the skirt of her black dress and walked out to her car. She backed out of the driveway and drove into the city, finally reaching Peaceful Rest Funeral Home, where Jeffrey Kellogg's service was being held. Jack stood near the front door, pacing anxiously. His face lit up when Louisa climbed out of her car and approached. “Hey, Jack,” she said, giving him a hug. “You ready?”

“I guess so,” replied the veteran. They entered the small building together. Louisa's eyes widened when she saw the number of people gathered in the pews. “Some of my Dad's old war buddies insisted on being here,” explained Jack. “He fought in World War Two and was there when the Allies stormed the beach at Normandy .” His pride in the man who had given him life was evident.

“I had no idea,” murmured Louisa as she looked for a place to sit. An elderly man wearing a uniform heavily decorated in medals slid over, gesturing for her to sit beside him. “Thank you.”

“I heard what you did for Jeff's son, ma'am,” said the man in a gravelly voice. “I'm Clayton Briggs. Jeff and I were in the same platoon during the war. He was a good man.

Louisa smiled humbly. a little embarrassed. “I didn't do that much,” she answered shyly.

Before Clayton could reply, the funeral director rose and made his way to the podium. “Friends, we are gathered here today to celebrate the life of Jeffrey Richard Kellogg. His best friend, Clayton Briggs, will give the eulogy.”

Briggs got to his feet, a sheaf of papers in his worn hands. “ Thank you, sir. As most of you know, Jeff was proud to be an American citizen. He and his parents emigrated from Ireland in the Twenties and settled in Nebraska . Life wasn't easy for them, but Jeff never complained. After Pearl Harbor was attacked, he marched down to the local recruiting office and told the Sergeant there that he was, and I quote, ‘give the damn Nazis a kick in the behind'.” Muted chuckles echoed through the room. Jeff served in some of the bloodiest battle of the War and was in the first platoon to land on Normandy Beach . After he returned home, he married Carolyn, the gal he had been courting. About a year later, their son, Johnathan, was born. I've never seen a fellow so tickled in my life! He passed out so many cigars, I swore there was going to be a tobacco shortage. Jeff and Carolyn settled onto a farm a few miles from his Daddy's place and set about raising their boy and making a living for themselves. The years went by and they were happy as two peas in a pod. When the conflict in Korea broke out, Jeff left his wife and young son and went back into the service. Uncle Sam had the wisdom to make him a medic in a M*A*S*H unit. A lot of boys are still kicking today because of his skills. The experience of seeing so many good young men die kind of soured old Jeff on war after that. He was sad when Nixon got the United States caught up in the Vietnam War. He was dead set against his boy joining up, but Jack was too much like his Daddy to not to want to fight. They were estranged for a long time after Jack came home, but that changed not long ago, thanks to a special young lady. You see, Jack was feeling down about his life and he did some things that could've gotten him in deep trouble. She saw to it that Jeff's boy got the help he needed instead of sending him to prison. She's here today. Maybe we can get her to stand up so you can see her for yourselves. Mrs. Stanley, if you will?”

Louisa bit her lip nervously and stood up. She blushed rosily as she faced the mourners. “I didn't know Jeffrey Kellogg as well as some of you, but I could tell right away that he was a great man. But, Mr. Briggs knows more about that.” She returned to her seat, smiling when Jack squeezed her hand in thanks.

“Not long before Jeff passed on, he and his son were reunited after many years of separation, like I said,” Clayton went on. “They were able to mend fences and were as close as they always were. Jack, I saw your father the day before he died. He never told you this, son, but he was proud of you for standing up for what you believed in. He regretted turning you out the way he did and said his fondest wish was to make things right with you. It made him a very happy man to be able to do that before God called him home.” Briggs smiled broadly and glanced at the organist. “Jeff asked me to sing his favorite hymn. I ain't no Frank Sinatra, but I'll give it a whirl.” The grizzled old veteran cleared his throat as the first notes of Amazing Grace played. “Everyone, please sing with me. That way, my old voice will sound halfway decent.”

The mourners laughed quietly at Clayton's jest and added their voices to his. After the hymn was over, Briggs returned to his seat, his eyes moist. A man wearing a dark suit and tie took his place.

“That's Father Seamus Bailey,” Jack whispered to Louisa. “He's been helping me get things together.”

Bailey cleared his throat and opening his Bible. “Let us pray,” he intoned. “Father, take the soul of our beloved Jeffrey Richard Kellogg to your breast and shelter him in all Your divine glory and wisdom. Be with the people who mourn his passing and comfort them in their time of grief. Lighten their burden, Oh Lord, and allow to see that Your son is sharing all the joys of Your house. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, amen.”

Louisa stayed close to Jack as the procession filed out of the church and headed for the cemetery. Kellogg latched onto her hand at the side of the grave, squeezing as if he were afraid she would disappear. He threw a handful of dirt onto his father's casket and swallowed convulsively as it was lowered into the ground. He looked up when Father Bailey waked over to stand in front of him. “Thank you, Father,” he whispered.

“You're most welcome, Johnathan,” answered the priest. “This must be Mrs. Stanley,” he smiled, directing his gaze to Louisa. “Jeff told me about you, young lady. He thought very highly of you.”

The young woman returned his smile. “The feeling was mutual, Father,” she replied. “I didn't get a chance to know him well, but I liked Mr. Kellogg the second I met him.”

The priest's grin widened. “Jeff had a knack of making friends quickly, ma'am. Did he ever tell you about the day he met President Nixon? It was right before the Watergate scandal broke.” He laughed, remembering the day. “Jeff told Nixon that the country was better off without a crook like him in office. The look on that old boy's face was priceless!”

Jack's eye lit up and he grinned. “Dad told me about that,” he chuckled. “He always was outspoken. Trying to keep him from expressing his opinion about anything was like telling the sun not to shine.”

“I know a man like that,” giggled Louisa. “Father, have you ever worked with the County Fire Department ?”

“Yes, I have. Pat McConikee and I grew up together. Do you know him?”

The young woman nodded as she laughed out loud. “He's my husband's superior. I hear that they have quite a past. In fact, when Hank was Pat's engineer, he burned his hat but won't tell me why. Could you shed some light on that?”

Father Bailey snickered. “Oh, I know that incident very well. Pat, being his usual self, was the target of numerous pranks from his crew. Well, Hank Stanley and Roger Bullis had a little contest going on between them to see who could tick McConikee off the most. Roger almost won with his cookie trick. Have you hear about that?” When Louisa shook her head, he continued, his green eyes twinkling with glee. “Bullis replaced the cream in Pat's Oreo cookies with Colgate toothpaste. Hank one-upped him by burning his Captain's hat!”

Jack and Louisa glanced at each other and grinned. “So that's why McConikee won't eat those cookies!” snorted Louisa. “That clears up that mystery. What other pranks did my husband play?”

The priest winked at her. “Ask him about it. If you catch him in the right mood, he might open up a little. I think he spent more time cleaning the latrine than doing anything else!”

“A man named Chet Kelly does that now,” grinned the young woman. “He's known as the Phantom in the Department.”

Just then, Dr. Cruz arrived to take Jack back to the hospital. Louisa promised to visit him in a few days, telling him that she had something to take care of. Kellogg looked back over his shoulder at her, wondering about the mysterious smile flitted across her lips.

The Stanley Home, That Evening

“Cap, do you have any idea why Lou and Chet wanted us all here?” asked Roy . “Is something wrong?”

Hank shrugged. “No, pal, I don't. All I know is that she won't let me anywhere near the garage.”

Johnny grinned and took a slow pull from his bottle of beer. “I think I'll take a little stroll,” he said loudly, catching Louisa's attention. She watched through narrowed eyes as the paramedic headed for the door leading from the kitchen into the garage.

“Stop right there, John Roderick Gage!” she called. “One more step and I'll be forced to restrain you, buster.”

“Promises, promises,” teased Johnny, making her blush. “Will you tell us what the big secret is already? I'm dying of curiosity!”

“All in good time,” answered Louisa. “Just sit down and stop being so nosey. Trust me, this will be well worth the wait.”

“Speaking of waiting, where is Chet?” questioned Mike, sliding up beside his sister.

“Patience, Michael. He'll be here soon enough. What's the matter, big brother? You got someplace else to be tonight?”

“No,” replied the engineer with a grin. “Lara and the baby won't be back until tomorrow. I cleared my schedule so we could have a proper reunion.” His blue eyes twinkled with mischief. “You don't mind babysitting, do you?”

Hank laughed and hugged his wife. “Are you kidding?” he snickered. “She'd take him permanently if you gave her the chance.”

Half an hour later, Chet showed up, a sly grin on his face. “Everyone's here, good; come on, Lou. Let's start the presentation.” He grabbed Louisa's hand and dragged her into the garage, while the rest of the men followed. The Irishman stopped beside a large object, completely covered with a tarp. “Go ahead, grease monkey,” he joked playfully. “Get on with it!”

Louisa rolled her eyes at her friend and giggled. “Okay, if you insist. As all of you know, Chet and I have been restoring his rattle-trap van. While you guys were working yesterday, the guy who did the paint job brought it over and parked it in this very garage. Prepare to be dazzled, hose jockeys!” she finished, whipping back the cloth to reveal Chet's fully-restored van.

“Oh my God !” gasped Marco, staring in fascination at the vehicle. Pristine paint gleamed under the fluorescent lights and freshly-chromed bumpers sent out arrows of reflected light. The Latino fireman walked slowly around the van, openly admiring the smooth metal bodywork and flawless glass. “Amazing!” he breathed.

“Incredible,” whispered Johnny. He opened the driver's side door and ran his hand over the Nubian leather seat covers. “If I wasn't seeing it with my own eyes, I wouldn't believe it!”

“This must have cost a small fortune,” put in Mike. “You guys did a great job,” he complimented.

Chet and Louisa stood aside as the men crawled over the van, taking in every new part. Roy popped the hood and stared in mute admiration at the remodeled engine. “Start her up, Kelly, so we can see how well it runs.”

The Irishman scrambled to comply, grinning widely as the motor purred and exhaust burbled out of the newly-installed muffler. “And you guys said it couldn't be done!” he crowed.

Out in the front yard, Buddy, Hank and Louisa's dog barked, announcing another visitor. Seconds later, Chief McConikee poked his head through the door. “Am I too late to see the miracle?” he joked. “That can't be Kelly's van!” he gasped.

“It is, Pat,” smiled Louisa. A mischievous sparkle lit up her eyes. “Hey, Chief, want some Oreos?” she teased.

Hank leaned against the door jam, laughing helplessly. Mirthful tears poured down his cheeks as McConikee turned red. “No, thank you,” he replied. “I've lost my taste for them.”

“I promise there's no toothpaste in the filling,” snorted Louisa. “These cookies haven't been tampered with.”

Marco raised an eyebrow, wondering what was going on. He voiced his question, bewildered by his Captain's reaction. “Lou, what are you talking about?”

His sister winked at him and said, “It seems someone played a prank on Chief McConikee when he was a mere Captain. Someone by the name of Roger Bullis.”

At the mention of the name, McConikee flew open wide. “Who told you that ?” he growled. “Bullis transferred to Florida years ago.”

Louisa grinned, enjoying the man's reaction. “Does the name Seamus Bailey ring any bells?” she answered slyly. “He was at Jeffrey Kellogg's funeral and we got to talking. He told me why Hank burned your hat, too, Pat.”

“Did he now?” chortled Hank, wiping his eyes. “There goes my air of mystery,” he snickered. “What else did Seamus tell you, sweetheart?”

His wife smirked. “That's for me to know and you to find out, hose jockey,” she shot back. “You can read all about it in the next department newsletter.”

“How much will it cost for you to keep your mouth shut, lass?” questioned McConikee, his twinkling eyes negating his stern tone.

Louisa tapped her chin with a delicate finger, pretending to consider the offer. Marco leaned over and whispered in her ear, a broad grin on his face. “Good idea, big brother,” she whispered back. “I'll make a deal with you, Chief. If you tell us what Colgate-filled cookies taste like, your secrets will remain hidden. Deal?”

The Chief chuckled softly. “You drive a hard bargain, my dear,” he replied. “Can we shake on it first?” After shaking hands, McConikee told them. “They taste worse than Kelly's cooking!”

“Hey!” protested Chet as the others laughed. “At least I don't keep making hot dogs and hamburgers like someone I could mention. Is that right, Gage?”

“Whatever, Chester B. I just want to know one thing. Lou, how about revamping my Rover for me? I'll make it worth you time.”

“Tell you what, Johnny,” replied the young woman. “You help me restore my old Mustang and I'll help you with the Rover.” She pointed to another tarp-covered hump in the back of the garage. “I'll teach you everything I know. Well, almost everything.”

The paramedic flashed his trademark crooked grin and nodded. “You've got a deal,” he said. “Let's take a look,” he encouraged. He swept off the tarp to reveal a battered red Mustang convertible, one that appeared vaguely familiar.

Hank's jaw dropped in surprise. “Honey, is that…? No, it can't be, can it?” he stuttered.

Louisa slid an arm around his waist. “It is, sweetheart. That is the same car that I had when I came down from Montana all those years ago. Lieutenant Crockett told me that the Police Department had it in storage all this time. He called and asked me if I wanted it back. How could I say no?”

Marco walked around the smashed and blood-stained vehicle, the memory of seeing it after Louisa's accident filling his mind. “I'll never forget the day Tom Parker took you, little sister,” he murmured. “Are you sure you really want to restore it?”

“Positive,” replied the young woman. “I had Charlie go over it with a fine-toothed comb, so to speak. The frame isn't bent, so all that needs to be done is replace some sheet metal, the bumpers, and the glass. I might want to change the seat covers, too. I love this car, no matter what happened while I was driving it that day. Come on, Marco; it's a classic! Use your imagination! It looked worse than this when I first bought it, for pity's sake!”

“I'm surprised the police kept it in storage this long,” commented Roy . “I thought they would have sent it to the crusher once the investigation wrapped up.”

“Crockett told me that they lost track of it, Roy ,” answered Louisa, running a hand across the mangled hood. “Chief Flanagan was doing an audit of the evidence lockers when they found the paperwork. It had been in a warehouse behind the station all this time.”

“I, for one, can't wait to see this beauty street-legal again,” grinned Johnny. “When do you want to get started, Miss Mechanic?”

“As soon as the parts I ordered from a dealer in Carlisle , Pennsylvania get here. Tony, the guy I talked to, almost had a coronary when I told him what I wanted. He made me promise to send him photographs when it's finished.” She chuckled wryly. “I wouldn't be a bit surprised if he jumped on a plane and came out here. He said he collects old Mustangs. He even asked me to join the Mustang Club!”

Chief McConikee leaned over to peer into one of the front windows. “It's a bona fide miracle that you survived that crash, Louisa,” he said. “Are you sure working on this car won't bring back unpleasant memories?”

The young woman frowned. “Maybe, but the good memories outweigh the bad. I fell in love with this little horsie the instant I set eyes on her. Buck and Antonio thought I had lost my mind when I brought it to the ranch. They said it was only good for the trash heap.”

“So was Chet's van,” put in Mike. “Tell you what, Lou. Once this monster is fully restored, I'll get a can of wax from the supply closet at the station and make it gleam like new.” He shifted his eyes to McConikee. “If that's okay with you, of course, Chief.”

“I think I could allow that. I understand the attachment you have to this car, Louisa. I owned a '67 Mustang when I was younger. They kind of get in your blood, just like fire fighting.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Two Weeks Later

“Try it now, Johnny,” called Louisa. A deep frown appeared on her face as the Mustang's engine still refused to turn over. “Okay, turn it off,” she grumbled. “I don't get it. What did I do wrong?”

The paramedic climbed out of the car and shrugged. “Are you sure you checked the ignition switch?” he asked.

“Gage, you're a genius!” grinned the young woman. “You managed to figure out the one thing I overlooked. We may make a mechanic out of you yet!”

After checking the switch and seeing that it was faulty, Louisa laughed at herself. “Silly me. I can fix lawnmowers and dishwashers, but when it comes to a simple little ignition switch, I'm hopeless.” She wiped her greasy hands on a rag. “Come on, hose jockey. Let's go to the parts store. I want to have this engine purring before dark.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“You want a what ?!?” asked the clerk at the auto parts store. “What in God's name are you fixing, ma'am?”

“A 1965 Mustang convertible with a 327 engine,” replied Louisa, her eyes sparkling. “Do you have the switch I need or do I have to go all the way across town?”

The man flipped through his inventory log and nodded. “Yeah, I'm got one in stock. Are you sure you know how to install it?”

Johnny snickered with glee. “She sure does, man,” he grinned. “She's got magic hands when it comes to old cars.”

The clerk snorted in disbelief and went to get the part. Johnny heard him muttering under his breath about ‘smart-ass customers' and threw Louisa a wink. “Better a smart ass than a dumb ass,” he snickered.

“Here we are,” said the clerk, returning with a small white box in his hands. “What kind of carburetor are you putting in your Mustang, ma'am?” he questioned.

“A four-chamber Holley. The other one got toasted when I wrecked my car in an accident. Do you guys carry custom seat covers? I want to replace the ones I have now. They're still a little bloody.”

“Can't say that we do, but I have a catalog from a place in Carlisle that specializes in Mustang parts.” He rummaged under the counter and handed her a thick, paper-bound book. “Tony has more than parts than brains,” he joked.

“You mean Tony Laredo?” asked Louisa. “I ordered rocker panels from him.”

“That's the guy,” replied the clerk. “Do you need anything else today?”

“No, I'm all set. Thanks. Come on, Johnny.”

As they left the store, the paramedic had a hard time containing his laughter. “You sure shocked him, Lou,” he chuckled. “Bet he never expected a woman to know about cars.”

The young woman raised an eyebrow. “He's not the only one, buster. Sanchez gave me grief about it the other day when he was subbing for Chet. He said he couldn't believe I was doing the work myself. He changed his tune when Mike asked me a very detailed question about the engine timing. The look on Miguel's face was absolutely priceless !”

“What about Charlie? I swore you two were speaking a foreign language when you got into that discussion about cam shafts and pistons. And I wasn't the only one. Cap looked like he had no idea what you were talking about.”

“He didn't!” answered Louisa as she pulled into her driveway. “Why do you think he's been reading my repair manuals? He said they are more complicated than the engineer's text. I can't understand that.” A dimple appeared in her cheek when she grinned. “All those equations give me a headache. I'm lucky I passed Pharmacology, considering all the algebra we had to use.”

Hank was standing beside the car when Louisa and Johnny entered the garage. “Honey, Marco called. Something about your Mother's garbage disposal going nuts. I told him you'd call him back.” He ran a hand over the bare metal of the front rocker panel. “Looks good,” he praised. “How come it's not running yet?” he teased.

“Because, smart guy, the ignition switch has to be replaced,” shot back his wife. “That's the thing that creates a spark so the engine will start, sweetheart,” she explained, a hint of sarcasm lacing her voice. She headed for the house to return her brother's phone call.

The Captain rolled his eyes and glanced at his junior paramedic, who stood there with a wide grin on his face. “Is that really what an ignition switch does, pal?” he queried. “All I know is you get in, turn the key, and the engine starts. Oh, and I know how to pump gas and check the oil.”

“I have no idea, Cap,” replied Gage. “Lou's the mechanic; I'm just the assistant.”

Louisa tapped her fingernails against the countertop as she waited for Marco to pick up. The phone rang four times before the Latino fireman came on the line. “Hey, big brother, I got your message. What's up?”

Lopez sighed in relief. “Mama's garbage disposal is making that grinding noise again, Lou. Before you ask, no, I didn't drop a fork in it this time.”

The young woman laughed. “Okay, I believe you. I'll stop by to check it out after I put the ignition switch in the Mustang. Wanna come over and help?”

“No thanks,” replied Marco. “I promised Chet I'd go to a flea market with him.” He lowered his voice. “Lou, what's a flea market?”

“A place where people sell their worthless junk,” giggled his sister. “Why are you guys going over there?”

“Chet is looking for a new lamp for his apartment. His cat knocked the other one off the table and busted it. I'll tell Mama you're dropping by. See you later.”

“Have fun, but don't bring me any junk,” answered Louisa. “Bye.” She hung up and went back outside. She smiled when she saw Roy chatting with Hank and Johnny. “Hi, Roy .”

“Hi yourself. I thought you'd have this heap running by now. Having trouble?” he grinned.

“With the car or with my assistant?” retorted Louisa with a smirk. “Is it true he only works if you promise to feed him?” she joked.

“Very funny,” grumbled Johnny. “If you don't want my help, just say so. I know when I've been insulted.”

“Chill out, Gage,” put in Hank. “You're invited for supper. Honey, do we still that side of beef in the freezer or did we use it the last time we fed him?”

“Knock it off, hose jockey, or I'll sic Dracu-mower on you. He hasn't tasted fireman blood recently, so he's probably hungry,” snickered Louisa. “Put the lasagna in the oven. It will be hot by the time we get done here. There's a loaf of garlic bread in the freezer, too.”

“Yes, dear,” teased the Captain. “Should I make a tossed salad or just watch the ball game?”

Louisa didn't answer, busy installing the new ignition switch. Fifteen minutes later, she crawled out from under the Mustang and gestured for Johnny to try starting the engine. She let out a whoop when the motor roared to life. “Finally!” she shouted. “Sounds pretty good, huh guys?”

Desoto smiled. “Sure does. When do you start painting?”

“After we put in the new seat covers. The old ones are still stained with my blood when I split open my forehead. This time, I'm putting in leather seats. Cloth is too hard to clean.”

Johnny and Roy shuffled their feet restlessly. “Don't forget that we saw the inside of your car after you had your accident,” Gage said quietly. He looked up when Joanne pulled into the driveway. Chris and Jennifer scrambled out of the station wagon and ran into the garage. “Uncle Johnny!” they shouted.

“Hi, Jo,” called Louisa, walking over to her friend. She hooked a thumb back over her shoulder. “What do you think?”

“It look almost brand new,” answered the petite brunette. “What color is it going to be?”

“Yeah, honey,” grinned Hank. “You never told me either.”

His wife blushed and smiled. “Don't worry, hose jockey,” she said affectionately. “It won't be red. I was thinking maybe black or blue. Tony sent me some paint samples. I really like the blue metallic with silver glitter mixed in.” She hugged Jennifer, making the little girl giggle. “What color would you choose, Miss Desoto?”

“I like blue,” she answered, clinging to her ‘Auntie Lou's' leg. “Like the sky.”

“You heard the expert, Hank,” chuckled Louisa. “Blue it is. I guess I could always put in black leather seat covers.”

“Does it even run ?” asked Chris, staring wide-eyed at the Mustang. “Dad said the engine was shot all to heck.”

Johnny raised an eyebrow at Louisa. “Wanna give him a demonstration, Mrs. Cap?” When she nodded, the paramedic reached into the car and turned the key. “Purrs like a kitten,” he gloated. “All it needed was a new ignition switch. Do you know what that is for, Cap?” he joked, his eyes twinkling.

“I'll ‘splain it to you, Uncle Cap,” piped up Jennifer. “It makes the car go vroom vroom!”

The Captain burst out laughing and bent down to scoop the little girl into his arms. “What would I do without you here to ‘splain things to me?” he grinned.

“Beats me,” replied Jennifer, making the adults laugh.

Dr. Cruz's Office, One Week Later

“Morning, Jack,” said Dr. Mario Cruz as his patient walked into his office. “How are you feeling today?”

Kellogg grinned brightly and sat down. “Great, Doc! Well, not exactly great, but pretty damn good. I heard from some of my old buddies over the weekend. We got together and talked about old times.”

“Were these men part of your unit in Vietnam ?” asked Cruz carefully.

“Uh huh. I was a little nervous about seeing them again, but it worked out okay. We talked about George some. I was scared I would have a flashback, but I didn't. That's good, ain't it?” asked Jack hopefully.

The psychiatrist smiled. “It's more than good, Jack; it's fantastic!” he replied. “You've made a significant step towards your recovery. I've very proud of you.”

The veteran flushed slightly. “That's not all I did this weekend, either,” he said. “I called George's mother in Chicago and had a long talk with her. I haven't spoken to her since I came home and told her what happened to her son. She told me she was glad he wasn't alone when he died in that P.O.W. camp. After I heard that, all my leftover guilt kinda just disappeared.”

“Do you still blame yourself for George's death?” questioned Cruz, his eyes intense.

Jack shook his head. “Nah. I know it wasn't my fault. I couldn't have done anything to prevent those Commies from killing him. I still miss him, but I don't blame myself anymore.” He looked up at the doctor. “When I can get the money together, I'm gonna visit his grave in Chicago . You know, pay my respects to him and all.”

“I think that is a wonderful idea, Jack. Is there anything else you'd like to talk about today?”

Kellogg snickered. “Only if you want to hear about my first crush, Doc,” he joked. “Her name was Leslie and she had, uh, very noticeable assets, if you catch my drift,” he smiled cheekily. “She gave me an education you won't get in any classroom.”

The doctor laughed. “So, in other words, you practiced biology in a backseat, am I right?”

“Damn straight!” answered Jack. “If it had been any better, it would have been illegal!”

“On that note, I think we'll end for today. I'll see you next week, same time.”

“Right, Doc. Be here or be weird, right?”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Three Weeks Later

Louisa stood back, admiring the effect of the bright sun on her freshly-painted Mustang. The silver flecks in the vivid blue paint caught the rays and sparkled like diamonds. The new chrome bumpers shot off arrows of light, creating a dazzling light show. “It looks incredible, Max!” she complimented the man standing next to her. “Just wait until Hank and the guys see it!”

“It was my pleasure, Mrs. Stanley,” replied Max. “When Tony called me from Carlisle and said you were looking for a paint man, I jumped at the chance to work on one of these beauties. My Dad owned a car just like this when I was a kid.”

The young woman glanced a the invoice in her hand and grinned. “Tony told me you're the best paint guy in the business.” She reached into her purse and pulled out her checkbook. “I added a little extra. Take your wife out for a nice dinner or something.” She climbed into the car, breathing in the aroma of rich leather. “Have a good one, Max, and thanks again.” She started the Mustang and roared out of the parking lot. She turned left and headed for Station 51.

The engine bay was empty when she arrived. Henry was lying in his favorite position on the couch, belly up, legs folded against his body. “Showing off the goods, Henry?” giggled Louisa. The Basset hound rolled over when he heard her voice and wagged his tail enthusiastically. He barked loudly, happy to have some company. “Did they leave you all alone again, sweetie pie?” crooned the young woman, rubbing the dog's ears affectionately. “That's a good boy. Let's see if I have a treat for a handsome pooch such as yourself.” She rummaged in her purse and came up with a small rawhide bone. “Here you go, Henry.”

Louisa got up and wandered into the bay. An abandoned mop bucket stood in the corner. Anxious to work of some nervous energy, the young woman rung out the mop and started mopping the bay, humming quietly as she ran the cleaning tool over the floor. As she wheeled the bucket into the latrine to empty it, a loud chuckle made her jump. She whirled around, coming face-to-face with Charlie, the Department mechanic. “When did they start hiring pretty ladies to clean up around here?” he joked.

“I was bored,” answered Louisa with a grin. “So sue me. Did Johnny break the squad again?”

Charlie laughed and shook his head. “No, I dropped by to talk to Captain Stanley. Is that your car out in the parking lot?”

“Sure is! I picked it up this morning. Wanna take a look?” She dumped the bucket and rinsed it out, shoving it back into the corner.

The mechanic's eye widened as he stared at the little Mustang. “Isn't this the same car you had before, just with a new paint job?” he questioned. “I thought it was all smashed up!”

Louisa chuckled softly. “I restored it,” she answered. “The frame wasn't bent, so all I had to do was replace the fenders, some of the body, and the seat covers. The old ones still had dried blood on them.”

“You did a wonderful job,” praised Charlie. “It looks like it rolled off the assembly line a few minutes ago. I love this paint. Where did you get it?”

“From a guy down on Carter Street . Maybe you know him. His name's Max Nugent.”

“Sure I do. He did some work on my wife's car a few months ago. It must have cost you a small fortune!”

Louisa blushed guiltily. “It did, but don't tell Hank. He'd have a fit if he knew just how much. But, I think it was worth it, don't you?”

Before the mechanic could reply, the engine backed into the bay and the crew jumped out. Their eyes flew open wide when they spotted the Mustang. “My God, Lou!” called Chet. “The car looks amazing!”

“Yeah, little sister,” put in Mike. “Do I dare ask how much that fancy paint job cost?”

“Enough, Mikey,” snickered Louisa. “Well, Hank, don't just stand there with your mouth hanging open. You're gonna swallow a fly if you're not careful. What do you think of my baby?”

“Beautiful,” said the Captain. “Charlie, I see you got my message. Why don't we go into the office?” He walked away with the mechanic on his heels.

“What's that all about?” wondered Marco. “Come on, little sister, fess up. How much money did you spend on this paint job?” He gasped in shock when Louisa whispered the amount in his ear. “Cap is going to blow a gasket.”

The young woman started to answer, but was interrupted by the sound of footsteps behind her. She glanced over her shoulder, a smile lighting up her face when she saw Jack Kellogg hesitating near the open bay door. “Jack! What are you doing here?”

The veteran smiled nervously. “I wanted to talk to you. I called your house but no one picked up the phone. I took a chance on you being here. I guess it paid off. Wow, great car!”

“Thanks; what's up, Jack?” She looked over when Mike cleared his throat, his eyes conveying a question. “I'm sorry. Jack, this is Chet Kelly, and my two brothers, Marco Lopez and Mike Stoker. Guys, this is Jack Kellogg.”

The men exchanged handshakes, sizing each other up. “Lou, I'll call you in the morning when I get off shift,” said Marco. “Nice meeting you, man.” He went back into the station. Chet and Mike followed, clearly disturbed leaving Louisa alone with Kellogg.

Jack cleared his throat nervously. “Uh, Louisa, the reason I wanted to talk to you is I'm moving away. My aunt down in Nebraska has asked me to come and stay with her. I just wanted to thank you for everything you did for me. What I did to you and Mrs. Brackett was wrong and way beyond stupid. I deserved to go to jail.”

Louisa smiled sadly, tears welling up in her eyes. “You weren't yourself that day, Jack,” she responded. “If you had known what you were doing, I probably would have pressed charges. What you experienced in Vietnam damaged you inside. The doctors call it Post-traumatic Stress Disorder. I know about it because I've gone through it myself, after I was kidnapped and again after I shot Tom Parker. Dixie understand too because her brother fought in ‘ Nam .” She looked down at the surface of the parking lot. “I thank God that Dr. Cruz was able to give you the help you needed to deal with your friend's death.” She laughed quietly, the tears she had been holding back spilling down her cheeks. “I'm gonna miss you, Jack. You're a good man and I'm honored to call you my friend.” She stepped forward to hug him tightly. “Take care of yourself, buster. If you need anything at all, don't hesitate to call or write me.”

Kellogg returned the embrace. “I will, I promise. If you're ever in Nebraska , be sure to look me up.” He dropped his arms and grinned self-consciously. “My ride's waiting for me. Good-bye, Louisa, and thanks again.” He turned and walked away, his shoulder squared. Louisa watched him go, her heart heavy. Just before he rounded the corner, Jack looked back over his shoulder and waved. The young woman waved back, a chuckle bubbling up in her throat. “Yeah, you're gonna be okay, Jack. I can feel it,” she said to herself.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Six Months Later

Hank sat at the kitchen table, flipping through a stack of mail while sipping his morning coffee. His wife stood at the sink, washing the breakfast dishes. The Captain grinned fondly as she hummed a happy melody. “You got another letter from Jack Kellogg, honey,” he said, waving the envelope in her direction. “If I didn't know you two were just friends, I'd be more than a little jealous,” he teased.

“You have nothing to worry about, sweetheart,” chuckled Louisa. “No one could ever take your place. Of course, I have a few candidates in mind, but none of them measure up to you,” she joked playfully.

“Yeah, probably some of that motley crew in your Mustang club,” replied the Captain. “I noticed that guy with all the tattoos, Butch I think his name is, giving you the eye. He seems to have a crush on you, Mrs. Stanley.”

The young woman made a face. “Lucky me,” she muttered. “I'd have to soak him in disinfectant before I even got near him. In case you have noticed, personal hygiene isn't high on his list of priorities. He smells worse than Buddy's dog breath. Besides, I never did like pictures on a man's body. It's too distracting from his best parts.” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively, making Hank laugh.

“And just what are my best parts, honey?” snickered Hank. “No, wait; don't tell me. You can show me after the kids are in bed for the night.”

“You've got yourself a date, hose jockey,” giggled Louisa, running her soapy hands down his shirt. She put her arms around her husband's neck as he bent down to kiss her. His lips trailed down her cheek to nibble on her earlobe. “That's just a preview,” whispered the Captain huskily.

At that moment, the front door crashed open and Mike Stoker stomped in. The engineer's face was stormy with anger and his normally gentle blue eyes were glacial. He was carrying a thick file folder, which he slammed down onto the table. His jaw clenched as he ground his teeth. “Sorry to interrupt,” he growled, “but I need to speak to you right now , Louisa.” He pulled out a chair and sat down, his hands clenched into tight fists.

“Mike, what's wrong?” asked Louisa, her heart hammering in her chest. “I can see that you're upset.”

Stoker's eyes shot sparks as he stared at her. “I'm a few hundred notches above upset,” he grumbled. He pointed to the folder. “In there is the reason! Go on! Look for yourself!”

The young woman bit her lip in bewilderment. She dropped into a chair beside her brother and flipped open the cover. A harsh gasp tore from her throat when she read the document on top of the stack. Her face paled as she gaped at Mike, her mouth hanging open. “You've got to be kidding me!” she stammered. “This can't be right, Michael. We would have known, wouldn't we?” she finished uncertainly.

“Apparently not,” answered Stoker sarcastically. “Just one more thing Constance lied to us about.” He slammed a fist on the table, his face red with fury.

“What is it, honey?” questioned Hank, startled to see his brother-in-law so angry. He reached out to take the document Louisa handed him and began to read. His eyes flew over the typewritten words on the paper, absorbing the contents. “Holy Mary Mother of God,” he breathed as he realized what he was reading. “According to this, Constance had another child fifteen months after you were born, Lou, a boy That means you and Mike have yet another sibling out there someplace.” He lowered his shaking hands and paced the room, mumbling under his breath. “Is there any end to that woman's lies?”

“Mike, where did you get this?” asked his sister, her lips trembling. “What are you going to do?”

“It doesn't matter what I got it,” shot back the engineer. “As for your other question, I'm gonna find our missing brother, even if takes me the rest of my life!”

The End

(For Now)

Disclaimer: The men of Station 51 don't belong to me; I just use them to write these stories. All original characters and scenarios are solely the product of my imagination and cannot be used without my express permission. The character of Jack Kellogg was loosely based on my uncle, who spent time in a P.O.W. camp during the Korean conflict. On one of the rare occasions that he spoke of his ordeal, he described an incident similar to the one Jack tells Louisa about. A man in my uncle's unit died the same way George Ward did. The experience haunted my uncle until the day he died. If any veterans of the Vietnam War are reading this, I'd like to take this opportunity to thank them for their service to our country.