“Do you still want to do this?”  She seemed slightly surprised.

“Of course,” said Joe.  “I said I would.  Why?”

“I just thought–I didn’t know if it would be too much for you,” she said awkwardly.

Joe was silent for a moment.  He could feel Susanna looking at him.  He considered his options for a moment.  To hell with propriety.  “May I speak with you privately for a moment?” he said, barely controlling his fury.

She looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation.  “Jacob, go and find Mrs. Barton,” she said.  When the boy ran off, Joe took her arm and led her out the doorway at the front of the sanctuary, where the preacher entered, and down the narrow hallway to an empty room.  He closed the door behind him and turned, green eyes blazing.

“What have you said to anyone about what happened the other day?” he demanded.

“What-I-what are you talking about?”

“I trusted you to keep that private,” he said.  “My own father doesn’t know what happened, and I am damned if he’s going to find out from some old biddy out on the church steps!”

“Joe, believe me–I never said anything,” said Maggie, her eyes wide at his intensity.

“What did you tell Mrs. Barton about my playing for the children?” he demanded.

“I said-I said you weren’t sure, because you’re out of town a lot,” she said.  Her voice trembled slightly.

“And who gave you the right to make that decision?  I told you that I would do it.  Where do you get the nerve to decide what I can and cannot do?”  His volume grew to nearly a roar.

“I’m sorry,” she said.  “I thought I was helping.  I didn’t mean–”  Tears welled up in her eyes.  “I swear to you, I didn’t tell a soul.”

“Didn’t tell a soul what?”

They both turned to see Ben standing in the doorway, looking grim.  He’d offered to find Joe for Susanna.  What he hadn’t expected to find was Joe shouting at the young woman who’d been turning his pages a few minutes earlier.  His son was clearly furious, and the lady looked as if she were about to cry.  Only his confidence that his son would not dishonor a lady prevented him from drawing the obvious conclusion.

“Joseph?  What is going on?”  Ben demanded.

Joe drew a deep breath as he glared at Maggie.  Please, God, don’t let me get dizzy now, he thought.  He stood straight and tall as he turned to his father.  “It’s a personal matter, Pa,” he said, one man to another.  Let his father think what he would.

Ben looked from his son to the girl.  After a moment, she nodded her acquiescence.

There was a time when Ben would never have stood for such a response from one of his sons, especially his youngest.  Standing in this room, though, he was suddenly keenly aware that he was not, in fact, entitled to more information.  In the years since his return from San Francisco, Joe had earned his father’s respect-and his trust.  Like it or not, Joseph was a man, and he had the right to a private life.

“Then, I suggest that you tend to it a more appropriate manner,” Ben said.  “And when you finish, Miss McConnell is waiting for you.”  He resisted the urge to shoot a glance at the young lady to see her reaction to this statement.

“Please tell Susanna I’ll be delayed,” said Joe.  “I have a rehearsal to play for.”  This last was spoken to his father, but delivered while looking at Maggie.

“Very well, I’ll tell her,” said Ben.  The tension in the room fairly crackled, but he knew that there was nothing more to learn now.  “How long will you be?”

“About half an hour,” said Joe.  He nodded coldly to Maggie.  “Good day, Miss Donaldson.”  He squeezed past Ben in the doorway and was gone.

Ben regarded the young woman for a long moment.  “Are you all right, miss?” he inquired.

She smiled.  “Yes, thank you, Mr. Cartwright,” she said.  “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go and find my son.”  She slipped past him and headed down the hall toward the sanctuary, and Ben watched her go.

In the same way, he watched Joe for the remainder of the day.  Whatever had happened, the young man was clearly very troubled by it.  He had met up with his family and the McConnells at the International House after his rehearsal, but he said little throughout dinner.  He made small talk and even smiled, but his smile never reached his eyes.

“Did you enjoy playing for the children?” asked Susanna at one point.

“They’re cute,” shrugged Joe.  “Some of them couldn’t carry a tune in their lunch pails, but they try.”

“I hear that the Donaldson boy can sing,” said Adam.

A shadow passed over Joe’s face.  “I guess he probably can,” he said.  “I didn’t get to hear them separately.”  He turned his attention to his dinner as if that would end the discussion.

“Wasn’t that his mother turning pages for you this morning?” asked Adam.

Joe nodded.  “That was her,” he said shortly.

“Is she a singer?” asked Adam.

“I don’t know,” snapped Joe.  “I don’t know anything about her.”

“That’s probably just as well,” offered Susanna.  “I’ve heard some of what there is to know, and you wouldn’t care for it.”  She looked around the table, brown eyes wide with innocence.  “To be honest, I’m surprised that the church even lets someone like her work with children.”

“What do you mean, ‘someone like her’?  She seems like a nice enough lady,” said Hoss.

“I don’t think most people would refer to her as a lady,” said Susanna.  “After all, she-”

“That’s enough,” Joe cut in.

“But I was just saying–”

“I know what you were saying.”  Joe’s voice was cold with fury.  “And I’m saying, that’s enough.”

“Joseph!”  It was the second time in an hour that he’d seen this look on his son’s face, and this time, he wasn’t going to tolerate it.  He was about to lay into Joe when he saw his son’s expression change and his face go pale.

“Excuse me, I’m going to step outside and get some air.”  Joe was on his feet and out of the dining room before anyone could respond.

A moment later, Ben found him sitting in a corner of the lobby, breathing heavily, tie untied and collar unbuttoned.  “Are you all right, son?”

“Just got a little warm in there,” Joe said.  He gave silent thanks for the fact that he’d been able to get out of the dining room under his own steam.  “You go back in and finish your dinner,” he added.  “I’m fine.  I’m just going to sit here for a few minutes.”

“I’ll stay with you,” said Ben firmly.

“No, Pa, if you stay, then the next thing you know, everybody else is gonna be coming out, and I really don’t want that,” Joe protested.  “Somebody needs to keep Susanna at the table,” he added.

Ben cast an appraising look at his son.  He could certainly understand Joe not wanting his young lady to see him feeling unwell.  Still, he didn’t like the notion leaving Joe here alone.

“Let me get you some water,” he said.  A minute later, he returned with a glass, which he pressed into Joe’s hand.  Joe drank, but when he handed the glass back, Ben frowned at how his son’s hand was shaking.  “Do we need to get Doc?” he asked in a low voice.  As Joe started to dispel the idea, Susanna’s voice rang out.

“Joe?  Are you all right?”  She came around the corner, brown eyes wide with concern, ande took the seat on Joe’s other side.  “What’s the matter?  Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong,” lied Joe.  “I just got a little warm in there.  Came out here to cool off a bit.”  To his father, his smile looked forced, but Susanna didn’t seem to notice.

“Come back in,” she urged, rising and tugging at his hand.

“I think I’m going to stay here for a few minutes,” said Joe.  “You go back in and finish eating, though.”

“Oh, I’d rather sit here with you,” she said, pouting ever so slightly.  To prove it, she sat back down, and Joe cast his father a pleading look.

“Actually, I need for Joe to run an errand for me,” said Ben.  It went against his nature to lie, but right then, he couldn’t come up with anything better.  “Joe, I believe Doc Martin probably has those powders ready, so if you’ll just pick them up, that’ll be a great help.  I sometimes have trouble sleeping,” he added to Susanna, as if in explanation.  “Why don’t we go back inside, and Joe will be along after he does my errand.”  He offered Susanna his arm, leaving her no choice but to take it and walk with him back into the dining room.

Nearly ten minutes passed before Joe felt steady enough to return to the table.  When Susanna inquired, he said that Doc hadn’t had anything ready for him, which was half true:  since Doc wasn’t supposed to prepare any medications, he wouldn’t have had any ready, even if Joe had walked over to see him.  Shortly afterward, the party broke up, and Susanna took Joe’s arm as they strolled down the street.

“Hey, there’s Mrs. Donaldson,” said Hoss, delighted at having spotted the subject of their dinner conversation.

“Miss Donaldson,” said Susanna pointedly, and Joe had a sudden blinding urge slap the smug superiority right off her face.  Frozen with rage, he said nothing, and Susanna held to Joe’s arm a bit more tightly as Maggie and Jacob approached.

“Good afternoon, Miss Donaldson, Jacob,” she said smoothly, with a gracious, triumphant smile.  The men touched the brims of their hats to her.

“Good afternoon,” said Joe, and his eyes said a great deal more.

“Good afternoon,” Maggie echoed.  She looked from Joe to Susanna, and back to Joe with a question in her eyes.  Seeing the question, Susanna rested her other hand on Joe’s arm as well, and her smile widened every so slightly.

They walked on, Susanna chattering brightly about something or other.  As they reached the livery stable, Joe felt his heart begin to pound, but not in the way that meant he needed to sit down.  This was different, and he knew enough to pay attention to it.  He saw Susanna and her uncle into their carriage and watched them drive away, ignoring the disappointed look in her eyes.  “Pa, I’ll be right back,” said Joe.  Before his father could stop him, he darted out of the livery stable and ran up the street, looking frantically from one side to another.

Then, he saw her.  “Maggie!” he called.

She stopped and turned.  When she saw him running toward her, her eyes grew wide.  “Joe, what are you doing?” she demanded.  “Have you lost your mind?”

“I–I did, but–I found it,” he panted, catching up to her.  He started to cough, and she took his arm and steered him to the nearest bench.

“Now, what on earth are you talking about?” she asked when he’d caught his breath.

“You,” he said.  “You’re what I’m talking about.  I’m so sorry–I shouldn’t have yelled at you–I’m sorry, Maggie.  I had no right to speak to you that way.”

“I had no right to make your decision for you,” she responded.

“So, neither of us had the right to do what we did,” he said.  “I guess that makes us even.”

“I guess,” she said softly.  They sat quietly for a few minutes, their hands almost touching.

“Maggie.”  His voice was low and serious.  “I feel like the worst kind of cad saying this when you just saw me with someone, but–”

“Don’t.”  She laid a finger on his lips.  “I understand why someone like that would appeal to you-someone respectable.”

“No, Maggie, don’t say that,” said Joe urgently.  “Don’t ever say anything like that again.  I have nothing but the highest respect for you.  That’s why I can’t say–what I want to say to you right now.  But once I’ve taken care of-what needs to be taken care of–I’m hoping-I have no right to ask–”

“Let’s just forget about rights for a minute, shall we?” she teased gently, and his smile lit up his face.  “As between us, from now on, we have whatever rights we want.  Deal?”  She held out her hand as if to shake on it.

“Deal,” grinned Joe, shaking her hand.  Not letting go of her hand, he asked softly, “Will you still be my page turner?”

“You do know how to turn a girl’s head, don’t you, Joe Cartwright?”  Her laugh was light and musical, and it was all he could do not to kiss her, right there on the street.

“Just you wait, Maggie Donaldson,” he said.  “You’ll see how I can turn a girl’s head.  I promise you that.”

Her eyes grew serious.  “But, Joe–you’re with someone else.”  She regarded him soberly, clearly braced against his next words.

“Not for long,” he promised.  “I need to speak to her, that’s true.  But after I do that–I’m hoping that you’ll agree to have dinner with me.”

Maggie rose.  “Ask me again after you’ve spoken to her,” she said quietly.  “That is–if you still want to.”

Joe stood.  “Oh, I’ll be asking, all right,” he said.  “Just you wait and see, Miss Donaldson.”  Quickly, he kissed her hand.  “I’ll definitely be asking,” he said, and her smile made his heart pound.

* * *

“Where’s Joe?” asked Ben as Adam and Hoss came inside.

“He’s out in the barn,” said Hoss, hanging his hat on the peg.

“Which is fine by us,” Adam added.

“He’s sure been a caution these last few days,” said Hoss.  Ben couldn’t help but agree.

The aftermath of Sunday had been every bit as stormy as the day itself.  He and Joe had had an enormous battle over whether Joe could take the buggy over to the McConnells.  Joe claimed that he had a matter of urgency to discuss with his young lady, but Ben was putting his foot down–the boy didn’t look at all well, and enough was enough.  It had already been a long day, and it would be a longer ride back to the ranch from Virginia City.  Whatever Joe needed to discuss with Susanna McConnell could wait until Monday.  So, Joe had fumed and sulked the entire way home, and as soon as they pulled into the yard, he was saddling his horse and riding out, with his father calling after him.

Joe didn’t get back until nearly dark, and it was only sheer dumb luck that he keeled over in the yard, rather than on the road back from McConnells.  Adam rode for the doctor like the devil himself was on his tail, and when Joe heard what the doctor had to say, anyone listening would have thought that the devil had landed right there in that room.  

“Two weeks!  That’s ridiculous!”  If Joe had had more strength, he’d have been shouting. 

“Two weeks,” said the doctor calmly.  “What did you think you were doing, anyway?  I seem to recall having a talk with you about this type of behavior.  After a long ride into town, and a long day in town, you were running down the street, and then after another long drive home, you were riding all the way over to McConnells’ and back?  You’re lucky you didn’t kill yourself outright, Joe.  Your heart is not going to stand for that kind of treatment.  I have been telling you for months that you need to slow down, and you’re not listening, and I don’t know how to make you listen except to tell you the truth:  if you keep up the way you’re going, you’re going to die.  Are you listening to me?” he added.

“I’m listening,” said Joe, biting off his words.  “Two weeks in bed—that’s insane.  I have things I need to do.  There’s a whole string of horses that we’re under contract to deliver, and they’re still way too rough.  And I’ve got other things I have to see to, too,” he finished lamely.  Dinner with Maggie Donaldson was definitely at the top of his list, but he preferred to keep it quiet, especially coming so soon after the end of his relationship with Susanna McConnell.  

“It doesn’t matter what you think you need to do,” said the doctor.  “I’m telling your father, your brothers and Hop Sing:  you put one foot out of that bed, and I’m having you moved into my clinic so that I can supervise you personally-and you know as well as I do that they’ll go along with me on this, so don’t try me.”

With no choice, Joe went along with the doctor’s orders, but he was so infuriated that he got little rest.  He wrote Maggie a note, explaining the situation, and he gave private thanks for the fact that she alone would understand that this was not just an excuse.  

At the end of the two weeks, Doc reluctantly agreed with Joe’s demand that he be permitted to do light work.  Almost immediately, Joe was out the door and into the barn, but his temperament didn’t improve.  To the contrary, he was even touchier than ever–the state of affairs on which his brothers commented when they’d gratefully left him behind in the barn.

“So, when’s your big date with Maggie Donaldson?” asked Adam that night at dinner.

“None of your business,” snapped Joe.

“Joseph!”  Ben glared at his son.  “Your brother asked a perfectly civil question, and he deserves a civil response.”  Or else, his tone concluded.

“Sorry, Adam,” said Joe in a voice that sounded anything but sorry.  “Saturday.”

“That’ll be nice,” said Adam, for want of anything better to say.  They ate in silence, the black cloud of Joe’s mood hanging over the table.  By the end of the meal, Ben had had enough.

“Joseph, I’d like to speak with you,” he said firmly.  To his elder sons, he said, “I believe you two have things to do in the barn.”

“Sure, Pa,” said Adam, tugging at Hoss’ arm before Hoss could point out, quite honestly, that there was nothing in the barn that they needed to attend to.

Sullenly, Joe remained in his chair, steadfastly not looking at his father.  Ben regarded him for a moment.  Then, he asked, “All right, now.  What is all this about?”

“All what?”

“This.”  Ben gestured broadly.  “I understand you weren’t happy about what happened with Susanna or about being restricted to bed–not that that gave you any excuse to act as you did–but those are both over, and I am completely at a loss as to why you feel entitled to stomp around here and bite everyone’s head off.  Now, I would like an explanation, and I’d like it now.”

Joe took a deep breath.  “I’m sorry, Pa,” he said finally.

“I appreciate your apology, but I have asked for an explanation,” said Ben.  He was tempted to remind his son that there would have been a time when even half the behavior he’d displayed recently would have earned him a sound tanning.

Joe pushed his now-cold peas around his plate.  How could he explain it to his father when he couldn’t even explain it to himself?  Frustrated, he rose and reached for the brandy decanter on the sideboard.

“Joseph, what are you doing?”  His father’s tone had changed, from pure anger to a mix of anger and something else.  Worry?  Fear?  Disgust?  It was gone too quickly to know.

“I just need a little something,” he said.  “You want some?”

Ben moved to his side and took the decanter out of his hand.  “No,” he said.  “I don’t want any, and I don’t want you to have any, either.”

“I’m a grown man!” snapped Joe.

“A grown man who has a bad heart and can’t hold his liquor,” said Ben steadily.  “Whatever your problem is, Joe, this isn’t going to help it.”  He held his son’s gaze until the fire in the glare lessened, revealing the pain lurking beneath, and Joe turned away.  “Son, what is it?”  Ben’s voice was gentle now.  He set down the decanter and guided his son away from the table.  Woodenly, Joe sat on the settee, unwilling now to meet his father’s eyes.  Ben sat on the table, placing a hand on his son’s knee.  “What’s the matter, Joe?” he asked again.

“Maggie,” Joe said finally.

“What about her?” asked Ben, holding his voice steady only with effort as the scene he’d witnessed at the church came back to him.  He’d been so certain that nothing untoward was going on, but now, with the way Joe was acting, a niggling doubt was creeping in.

“We’re having dinner on Saturday,” said Joe, as if this explained everything.

When he said nothing else, Ben prodded, “I don’t understand.  Do you not want to see her?  I thought you liked her.”

“I do,” said Joe.  He sounded as if he were admitting to stealing a horse.

“Are you concerned about what people are going to say because–well, because of her son?”  Ben hated to think that he’d raised his sons to be that worried about what others thought, but he had to admit that an unwed mother was hardly his ideal choice for one of his sons.

“Pa, if I worried about that kind of thing, I’d never have married Robin,” Joe snorted.

“Then-I don’t understand.  What’s the problem?”  When Joe’s answer was not forthcoming, Ben busied himself with fetching the coffee pot and cups.  He poured coffee and handed a cup to Joe, who nodded his thanks before he finally spoke.

“I like her, Pa.”  Again, it sounded like a confession.

“I assumed as much,” said Ben.  “But I don’t understand how that’s a problem.  Unless–doesn’t she like you?”  The conversation felt like one he’d have had when Joe was fourteen.

Joe chuckled ruefully, clearly hearing the same thing.  “It’s not like that, Pa,” he said, setting down his cup.  He fell silent.  Just as Ben was about to prod again, Joe lifted his head.  “After Adam’s mother died-how long was it until you–well, until you met someone special?”

Ben began to see a glimmer of the problem.  “Five years,” he said.  “It was when I met Hoss’s mother.”

Joe looked at him squarely, the pain his eyes so raw that Ben nearly looked away.  The younger man took a deep breath and forced the words out.  “When you realized that she was special–did you ever feel like you were cheating on Adam’s mother?”

Ben caught his breath.  Oh, my dear boy–how did I not see this coming?  He took his son’s hand in both of his.  “Son, don’t do that to yourself,” he said.  “Robin loved you.  She’d want you to be happy.”  It was true, every word of it, but even Ben could hear how empty his words sounded.

“I didn’t feel like this with Susanna,” said Joe.

“Maybe because you didn’t care so much about Susanna,” suggested Ben.  “But you care about Maggie, don’t you?”

Joe nodded.  “More than I ever thought I’d care about another woman,” he admitted.  “But when I think about falling in love with her, being with her, maybe marrying her–I just feel sick, like I’m being unfaithful to Robin–and I know that’s ridiculous, but–”  Tears welled up in his eyes.  “She was the one.  She was the love of my life.  How can I be with someone else and not betray her?”  His voice broke.

Ben moved to sit beside him on the settee, drawing him close.  As he held his son, he found himself thinking of the myriad of other such moments, when he’d comforted his boys through the trials and tribulations of childhood.  “Do we have to move again, Pa?”  “They said I was dumb, Pa!”  “Pa, what do you mean, Mama can’t come back from heaven?”  Always, they’d expected him to have the answers, even to the hardest questions.  They’d had no idea how often he felt that he was fumbling along, praying for wisdom and yet having no idea whether his words were hitting the mark.  And as his sons grew, the questions became harder and harder. . . .

Joe sat up, wiping his eyes.  “Sorry, Pa, I didn’t mean to get all–”

“Ssssh,” said Ben.  “None of that, now.”  He handed his handkerchief to his son, who smiled his thanks.  “Joe, I don’t know exactly how you feel,” Ben admitted.  “When Adam’s mother died, I was so angry with her for leaving us that I felt like anything I did was justified.”  His eyes darkened with remembered pain.  “Angry and bitter, for years,” he said.  “Even now, there are moments when I think of what I must have put your brother through, and I can’t bear to look in the mirror.”

“Pa, Adam’s long since forgiven you.  You know that.”  Joe rested his hand on his father’s arm, and Ben nodded.

“I know,” he agreed.  “Son, the heart has an amazing capacity for love.  And if Robin was half the woman you’ve said she was, I promise you–she wouldn’t want you to spend the rest of your life alone, just thinking about her.  She’d want you to be happy–including marrying again, if that would make you happy.”

“You’re saying I should just move on,” said Joe with a touch of bitterness.

Ben shook his head.  “I’m saying that it’s possible to love someone new without taking anything away from what you had with Robin.  You’ll always love Robin, and that won’t change if you fall in love with Maggie, or with someone else.  I still love Adam’s mother, just as I love Hoss’ mother and yours.”

“But eventually, you moved on.”  It wasn’t quite a question, but Ben nodded.

“Not until I met Inger,” he said.  “Even then, I was so wrapped up in my grief that I very nearly let her slip away.”  He met his son’s eyes squarely.  “And that would have been the worst mistake I could have made.”

For a long minute, father and son sat quietly.  Then, Joe smiled.  “Thanks, Pa,” he said softly.  “Sorry I’ve been so, uh–difficult.”

“I think you need to mention that to your brothers, too,” suggested Ben.

“I know,” said Joe.  “That should be a lot of fun,” he added wryly.

Well, you earned it, Ben thought, smiling at last.  Joe stood, and Ben asked, “You heading upstairs?”

“Not quite yet,” said Joe.  “Will I keep you awake if I play for a little while?”

“Go ahead,” said Ben.  He watched as Joe sat at the keyboard, his hands hovering the ivory.  From nowhere, the thought came to Ben:  He thinks with his fingers.  Such a whimsical notion startled him, but in the next moments, as Joe began to play, he knew that he was right.

The music started in low, minor chords, dark and grim and fierce.  Even Ben could hear the very anger and bitterness he’d described.  Gradually, the mood lightened, the sun peeking out from behind the thundercloud.  The rumbling of the intense dark notes continued, but more and more, they were offset by the softer, lighter sounds which, in turn, began to hint at something more, even to dance.

Quietly, Ben turned to go upstairs, knowing that his son neither knew nor cared if anyone listened.  And knowing, too, that Joe was finally working his way out of a time and a place that had held him long enough.

* * *

“Joe?  Joe, can you hear me?  Joe, wake up.  Joe!”

His eyelids had never felt so heavy, but Joe tried to do as he was told.  It took a massive effort to open them enough to admit any light.  He couldn’t see who was talking.

A hand slapped his cheek gently.  “Joe!  Joe, wake up!”

I’m trying, he thought irritably.  He was about to turn his back on the whole notion when he heard the deep rumble of his father’s voice.  He reached his hand out toward Pa’s voice, and he heard excitement break out.

“Joe!”  The first voice was more urgent now.  “Joe, can you hear me?”  Joe grunted.  “Can you open your eyes for me?”

They’re already open, he thought, but he tried to open them farther.  The light was so bright that his eyes reflexively squinched shut.  Somebody said something he didn’t catch, and then he heard, “Try again, Joe.”  He tried again, and this time, the light was softer.  “That’s good,” said the voice.  Joe struggled to focus, and slowly, he realized that Doc Martin was hovering over him.

“Doc?”

“Well, it’s about time,” said the doctor so matter-of-factly that no one would have known how much he’d feared for his patient’s life.  “That was quite a nap you had there, young man.”

“Pa?”  He knew he’d heard his father’s voice before.

“I’m right here, son,” said Ben gently.  Once more, he silently gave thanks for the cattlemen’s meeting that had had him in town this evening.  He reached past the doctor to stroke his son’s ashen cheek.  “How’re you feeling?”

“Tired,” murmured Joe.  “Chest hurts.  What-what’s going on?”

“What’s the last thing you remember?” asked Doc Martin.  He rested his fingertips against the young man’s neck, counting.

Joe thought for several minutes.  “Hoss,” he said finally.  “I was working with Hoss.  We were fixing fences up in the north pasture.”  Fear clutched his throat.  “Is Hoss all right?”  His breathing became harder and faster, and he tried to sit up.  “Where’s Hoss?” he demanded.

“Easy, Joe, easy,” said Ben.  “Just lie back.  Hoss is fine.  There’s nothing wrong with Hoss.”

“Then where is he?” Joe managed, his breathing becoming harsher.

“Joe!  Joe, look at me,” said the doctor sternly.  He moved closer until his eyes were only inches from Joe’s.  “Look at me,” he repeated.  Joe met his eyes.  “Now, breathe on my count.  Out, two, three, four.  In, two, three, four.  Good.  Again.  Out, two, three, four. . . .”  Slowly, with much effort, Joe conformed his breathing to the doctor’s count, never looking away from the pale blue eyes and not noticing as the count grew slightly slower with each cycle.

Finally, the doctor sat back.  “That’s better,” he said.  He placed his stethoscope in his ears and listened to Joe’s chest.  “So, the last thing you remember is working with Hoss?” he asked if Joe had made the statement only a second before.

Joe nodded.  “Is Hoss all right?”

“Hoss is fine,” said the doctor.  “Your little episode came much later.  You don’t remember coming into town tonight?”  Joe shook his head.  “Do you remember Maggie Donaldson?”

“Sure, I know her,” said Joe.

“Do you remember having dinner with her this evening?” asked the doctor.

Joe furrowed his brow.  “I’ve never had dinner with Maggie Donaldson,” he said finally.  “I’d remember that.”

“Well, apparently, that’s not quite so,” said the doctor.  “You did have dinner with her tonight, or started to.  From what she said, you barely made it to the entrée.”

“I was with Maggie tonight?”  It didn’t sound even vaguely familiar.

“She’s out in the waiting room,” said the doctor.  “Has been for the past two hours, ever since you were brought in here.”

“But-what happened?  Where’s my shirt?”  Joe suddenly became aware that he was cold.  He reached under the sheet that covered him.  “Where are my pants?”  Even he could hear the panic in his voice.

“Don’t worry,” said the doctor.  “We didn’t know what was going on when you came in.  I owe you a shirt.  The rest of your clothes are on the chair.”

“What do you mean, you owe me a shirt?  What happened to my shirt?”

“We had to get it off you pretty quickly,” said the doctor simply.

“Why?  What happened?  What’s going on?”  His voice was climbing the scale.

“Okay, just settle down, Joe,” said his father.  “The most important thing now is for you to take it easy.”  He looked to the doctor for confirmation, and Doc nodded.  “Doc’s here, and I’m here, and your brothers are in the waiting room.  You just rest now.”

“But what happened?  Why am I here?”  He started to sit up, and his father and the doctor pushed him back down.

“If you try to get up one more time, I’m going to tie you down,” said the doctor.  “Now, listen to me carefully.  I’m not sure exactly what happened tonight.  Until I am, you’re not moving from that bed.  You’re not even sitting up.  And I have no problem with the idea of tying you down if I have to.  Are we clear?”

Joe’s eyes were wide.  “Pa?”  He reached out again to his father.  “What happened?”

Ben took his son’s hand and sat on the edge of the bed.  “From what Miss Donaldson says, you collapsed while the two of you were having dinner.  It doesn’t seem to have been anything you ate, so Doc needs to find out what happened.”

Joe searched his father’s face carefully.  “What else?” he asked finally.

“Nothing–” began Ben.

“What else?” Joe interrupted.  “There’s something else.  Otherwise, I’d have been on my way home two hours ago.”

The doctor laid a hand on Joe’s forehead.  “You’re cooler now,” he said.

“Cooler than when?”

“When you came in,” said Doc.

“Are you going to tell me what happened, or are we going to sit here all night?”

“Joseph,” remonstrated Ben.

“Sorry, Doc,” muttered Joe.  “I want to know what happened.”  The doctor and Ben exchanged looks.  “I’m the patient,” Joe snapped.  When they said nothing, the conclusion suddenly clicked into place.  “It’s my heart, isn’t it?  Something happened with my heart.”

The doctor sat down on the other side of the bed.  “It seems to be,” he said quietly.  “According to Miss Donaldson, you were having dinner when you began to sweat.  You told her that you were going to step outside for some air.  You stood up, grabbed at your chest, and passed out.”

“What about my shirt?”

“Shortly after they brought you in, you stopped breathing,” said the doctor.  Ben tightened his grip on Joe’s hand.  “I had to get your shirt off fast to listen to your chest.  There wasn’t time to fuss with buttons.”

“But obviously, I started breathing again,” said Joe, trying to reassure his father as well as himself.

“Obviously,” agreed the doctor.  He put the stethoscope to Joe’s chest and listened again.

“You just did that,” said Joe.  The doctor held up a hand for him to be quiet.  When he sat back, Joe repeated, “You just listened a couple minutes ago.”

“I know,” said the doctor.  “And I’ve been listening every couple of minutes for the past two hours, and I’m going to keep doing it all night.”

“Are you planning to come back to the ranch with us?” asked Joe.

“Didn’t you hear me before when I said you weren’t getting out of this bed?” asked the doctor.  “You’re not going back to the Ponderosa tonight.  Depending on how things go, you may not be back there for several days.”

“But I feel fine,” protested Joe.  “A little tired–and I’m cold, I’d like some clothes–but I’m fine.”  He wasn’t about to mention that it was still hard to breathe; he figured that they could probably hear that for themselves, and if they couldn’t–well, he’d just keep that to himself, and maybe he could get home a little sooner.

“We’ll get you some pajamas in a little while,” said the doctor.  “And I’m glad to hear that you’re feeling fine, but you’re not going anywhere, so you might as well get used to the idea.”

“What if I promise to take it easy when I get home?” Joe suggested.

“This is not a negotiation,” said the doctor as he and Ben spread a blanket on top of the sheet covering Joe.  “You’re not leaving that bed for any reason.  And you’re not going to be left alone, either, so don’t get any ideas about getting up when I leave the room.”

“What do you mean, I’m not gonna be left alone?”  He was getting truly irritated now, and his breathing was beginning to get harsh and rapid again.

“Slow down, now,” said Doc.  “Breathe on my count.”  As before, he counted four beats in, four beats out, until Joe’s breathing had lightened.  He listened to Joe’s chest again and sat back.  “You need to rest,” he said.  “There’ll be somebody with you all night, so you don’t need to worry about anything.  Just close your eyes and rest, that’s all.”

But Joe didn’t close his eyes.  He looked from his father to the doctor, and he saw the same look on both men’s faces.  “Am I dying?” he asked.  His father caught his breath quickly, and the doctor glanced at him.

“As I told you before, I’m not sure what’s going on, and that’s the truth,” said the doctor.  “I’m not trying to keep anything from you,” he added.  “If there’s something I feel you should know, I’ll tell you, I promise.  But I need for you trust me now.  I need to be able to try to figure out what’s going on without worrying that I’m going to make it worse by upsetting you.  So, here’s the deal.  I’ll tell you whatever you need to know, and you’ll trust me to decide what that is and when you should know it.”

“And whatever you tell Pa, you tell me,” Joe finished.  Ben and the doctor exchanged another glance.  “Which, I guess, means we have some catching up to do.”

“There’s already been a lot of catching up going on this evening,” said his father dryly.  “Miss Donaldson also told us what happened that day she was out at the ranch.  How long have you been having this kind of trouble?”

“Ben,” chided the doctor.  He knew how upset Ben was to find that Joe had been withholding information–and in case he hadn’t, Ben had made his feelings quite clear–but this wasn’t the time to address that.  “We’ll talk about everything later.  For now, Joe needs to rest.”  He turned to his patient.  “Are you warm enough, or do you want another blanket?”

“If I’m not going to get anything to wear, then I’ll take another blanket,” said Joe.  He had a pretty good idea by now as to why nobody was rushing to give him clothes–it was one more way to keep him in bed.  When the doctor obliged by producing another blanket instead of pajamas, he knew he was right.

A thought occurred to Joe.  “Did you say Maggie was out there?”

Ben nodded.  “She’s been there ever since you were brought in,” he said.

“Poor girl,” said Joe.  “Did she ever get anything to eat?”

“I don’t know,” said Ben.  “But don’t worry.  Your brothers will see to it that she’s taken care of.”

“Just as long as they don’t take too good care of her,” Joe grumbled.  His breathing started to roughen, and he closed his eyes, focusing on counting.  When he opened them, he saw his father’s face, lined with concern.  “Can I see her for a minute?  I just want to tell her I’m sorry about tonight.”

“No,” said Ben and the doctor in unison.  They looked at each other, and Ben nodded to the doctor to go first.

“You’re going to rest, not charm the ladies,” said the doctor.  “Last thing we need in here is some gorgeous young girl who makes your heart beat faster.”  Joe chuckled, but the doctor’s wry grin left no question that he meant what he said.

“Not to mention, you’re not exactly dressed to see Miss Donaldson,” added his father.  Joe forced himself not to look away or change his expression, lest his father have an inkling that he had ever entertained the notion of someday spending time with Maggie in just such a state of undress.  “I’ll convey your apologies for you,” Ben added, a bit more sternly than he intended; he knew precisely what was in his son’s head.  He didn’t approve of such goings on between unmarried people in any event, but he was suddenly grateful that they’d only been at dinner, rather than engaging in-well, some other activity, when Joe collapsed.

A light tap on the door, and Rose Martin poked her head in.  “Paul, I need you for a minute, please.”

“Of course,” he said.  “Ben, you’ll stay here until I get back?”  It wasn’t quite a question, but Ben nodded.

After the door closed behind the doctor, Joe caught his father’s hand again, pulling him to sit back down on the bed.  “I’m sorry, Pa,” he said.  “I should have told you.  I just didn’t want you to worry.”

“Don’t you fret about that now,” said Ben, brushing back his son’s hair with his free hand.  “The important thing is for you to rest.”

“Pa, what’s going on?” Joe asked.  There was none of the attitude he’d shown with the doctor.  Alone with his father, he allowed a tiny little bit of his fear to show.

Ben squeezed his son’s hand.  “Doc’s telling you the truth,” he said, rubbing the back of Joe’s hand with his thumb.  “We really don’t know.  There’s something happening with your heart, and we don’t know what or why.  From what he says, it’s part of why you’re having some trouble breathing, and it’s why you need to rest and not get upset.”

“And it’s why he won’t let me be alone,” said Joe.  In case I stop breathing again.  When Ben nodded, Joe involuntarily clutched his father’s hand.  “Am I going to die?” he asked again, and he couldn’t quite keep his voice steady.

Ben stroked his son’s pale cheek.  “You’re doing much better now than when you were brought in,” he said.  “That’s a good sign right there.”

“But-”  Joe couldn’t make himself ask the question a third time, but his father knew.

“Not if I can help it,” Ben whispered.

* * *

“How much longer am I going to be here?” asked Joe.  It was his eighth day in Doc Martin’s clinic, and he hadn’t once been allowed out of bed.  To say he was getting restless was an understatement.  The only thing keeping him under control at this point was his own fear.

Because Joe Cartwright was no fool.  He’d spent the better part of the first three days with the doctor listening to his chest every few minutes, and now, Doc still listened several times an hour.  Joe literally hadn’t been left alone for a moment since coming in the door.  His breathing still felt shallow and fast, and even with the medicine, it still didn’t take much to get it rough and ragged.  Just the littlest bit of excitement or stress could make breathing difficult.

The doctor finished listening to the young man’s chest and sat back.  “Where’s your pa?” he asked, apparently a propos of nothing.

“Went over to the hotel to get some breakfast,” said Joe warily.  “Why?  Whatever you need to tell him, you can tell me.”

Doc Martin appraised his patient.  Nobody–not Joe, not his father, not his brothers–would want to hear what he had to say.  Still, the boy might take it better if his father were present.

“I’d like to talk to the two of you together,” said Doc, rising.  “There are some things we need to discuss.”

“How much longer until I can get up?”

Doc nodded.  “That’s one of the things we need to discuss,” he said.

“Doc, I’m fine,” said Joe.  “I’m breathing almost regular now.  Everything’s fine, I can go home.”

“We’ll talk about that when your pa gets back,” said Doc.  “In the meantime, I want you to get some sleep.”

“I’m not tired!” Joe objected.  “I just woke up.”

“I know that. I also know what kind of a night you had,” the doctor reminded him.  Joe had had a couple of rough breathing spells that even the medicine hadn’t helped, and it had taken some time to get them smoothed out.  “Your pa probably won’t be back for an hour or so, and you need to rest.  We’ll all talk when he gets back.”  He administered Joe’s various medicines, tucked the blankets around his patient’s shoulders and called for Rose to come and watch their patient.

Despite his protests, Joe dozed off in a matter of minutes.  He awoke some time later to low voices in the outer room.  “Mrs. Martin, is my pa out there?”  His voice was weaker than he’d expected.

“I think so,” said Rose, knitting busily.  “I’ll tell them to keep it down.”

“No, send him in, please,” said Joe.  He tried to ape Adam’s strong baritone, without success.  “We’re all supposed to . . . talk when he gets back . . . Pa, me and the doctor.”  Breathing was harder now than it had been earlier, and he could only manage short phrases without taking a breath.  He tried to pace his breathing, but it was still rougher than normal, like that chestnut mare who was only greenbroke.

Rose Martin frowned slightly, but she disclosed no other reaction as she reached over and laid an experienced hand on Joe’s brow.  “Nice and cool,” she said.  “Good for you.  I’ll see if I can get those two scoundrels in here.”  She set down her knitting and moved to the door with surprising grace for one so round.  “Paul!  Ben!  Joe’s waiting for you!”

The voices in the outer room stopped abruptly, as if guilty at being overheard.  Joe heard them talking more quietly for a minute before the two older men entered the room.  Joe dug deep to muster a tired smile for his father, but it faded as he saw Ben’s face.

“What’s the matter?”  His eyes darted from one man to the other.  “I’m getting better, so . . . what’s wrong?”  His chest was starting to heave, as if he’d been running.

Ben settled himself on the side of the bed.  Stroking Joe’s hair, he began, “Son, Doc’s concerned about what happened to you.”

“I know that,” Joe interrupted.  “I ain’t been out of this . . . bed in over a week.”  He knew that his rising agitation wasn’t helping him breathe, and he tried to fight it down.

“Easy, now, Joe,” said the doctor, pulling up a chair on the other side of the bed.  “Breathe on my count.”  He watched his patient intently as he counted aloud.  When the young man’s breathing had slowed enough, he sat back, saying, “Thing is, Joe, you’re going to be laid up for quite a while yet.  It’s been eight days since your attack, and your heartbeat is still irregular, much more than it was before.  Plus, obviously, you’re still having problems breathing.  Your pa and I have talked about when you’ll be able to go home, but it doesn’t look like that’s going to be any time soon.”

“What are you talking about?  Why can’t I go home?  I can stay in bed just as well . . . there as I can here.”  Joe’s eyes beseeched his father for help even as his panting increased.

“I wish I could let you go home,” said the doctor.  “You’re just not ready.  You still need to be watched twenty-four hours a day.”

“Paul, I told you, we can do that–” Ben began.

“Ben, it’s too risky,” continued the doctor.  He turned from Ben to Joe.  “If something happens here, I’m here, and all the equipment and medicines are here.  If you’re at the Ponderosa, it’s luck of the draw whether I’ll be nearby when something happens, and the only equipment and medicine I have are what fit in my bag.  And if the snows come early, I might not be able to get there at all.  No, at this point, the safest thing is for Joe to stay right here.”

Joe looked from the doctor to his father.  He was trying his best to remain calm, but he could feel his efforts breaking down.  Unconsciously, he began to rub his chest.  “How long do you think I’ll . . . need to stay here?” he asked.  He was working harder for the breath to get those words out than even just an hour ago, and he could tell from Doc Martin’s expression that he knew it.

“Are you having any pain in your chest right now?”  The doctor’s blue eyes were sharp.

Joe started to say he was fine, but the pain grew sharper.  “Some,” he admitted.  He saw his father reach for his hand as the pain increased, and then the world went black.

When he opened his eyes, his window revealed only the last wisps of the sunset.  Doc Martin was listening to his chest.  “How’s it sound?” he managed.

The doctor’s head jerked up.  “Well, young man, you gave us all quite a scare that time,” he said casually.  “How do you feel?  Any pain at all, anywhere?”

Joe shook his head without lifting it from the pillow.  “My chest aches,” he said.  “Like I pulled all the . . . muscles or something.  What happened?”

“Can’t say for sure, but it looks like you probably had another attack,” said the doctor.

“But I haven’t done anything!”  the young man insisted.  He started to try to sit up, but the doctor pushed him back.

“Okay, now, just be quiet, Joe,” said the doctor, holding him down.

“Where’s Pa?”  Joe was growing more agitated.

“Easy, now,” said Doc Martin.  “Your pa’s been here all day.  He just stepped out for a minute.  He’ll be right back.”

“Where is he?” Joe demanded.

“I’ll get your pa, but not until you’ve settled down some,” said Doc.

“I need to see Pa,” insisted Joe wildly.  “Let me see him!”

“Joe, calm down,” said the doctor.  “You’re all right.  Just take it easy.  Slow, deep breaths.  Come on, count with me.  In, two, three, four.  Out, two, three, four.  That’s it.  Again.  In, two, three, four.  Out, two, three, four.”  He repeated the count several times, and almost against his will, Joe began to quiet down, and he stopped struggling.  “That’s better,” said Doc at last.  He put the stethoscope into his ears and listened again to Joe’s heart.  The beat was even worse than when Joe had first come in eight days earlier, sluggish and irregular, but Doc Martin had long experience at keeping his expression impassive.  After a minute, he sat back, calling, “Rose!”  When his wife appeared in the doorway, he said, “Will you stay with Joe a minute?”

“You’re gonna talk to Pa?” Joe asked, his eyes fearful.

“We’ll be right back,” said the doctor, smoothly avoiding the question.  He slipped past his wife and out the door, where he nearly ran headlong into Ben on his way back in from the privy.  The doctor gestured for Ben to follow him, and they walked without speaking to the other end of the office.

“What is it, Paul?  Is he all right?” Ben burst out as soon as the door was closed.

“He’s awake, but it looks like he had another attack,” said Doc bluntly.  “I don’t know what’s going to happen, Ben.  How long can the Ponderosa spare you?”

“As long as necessary.  Why?”

“I need you,” said the doctor.  “He can’t get excited, and I can only do so much to calm him.  I need for you to stay with him as much as you can until we’re through this.”

“Of course,” said Ben.  “Is he going to be all right?”

The doctor met Ben’s gaze squarely.  “I don’t know,” he admitted.

“But if you had to guess-”

“It doesn’t look good,” said Doc grimly.

“Then let’s back in there,” said Ben.  Instinctively, he assumed the role of the fighter, the one who had always defended his land and his family against all who would do them harm.  Only this time, the enemy was not one that he could see or could shoot.  This time, he had no idea how to win the battle.  He only knew that he had to start with what he had:  a father’s love.

* * *

The days blurred together.  Adam, Hoss and Hop Sing took turns spelling Ben at Joe’s bedside, all making sure that there was always a family member next to the young man.  Ben tried not to think of how the Ponderosa was limping along in their absence.  There was simply no choice about where they needed to be.  Adam, Hoss and Hop Sing rode miles back and forth to the ranch each day to keep things going as much as they could, with Ben taking the lion’s share of the time with Joe.

One morning, as Hoss came in to relieve Ben, Joe said, “You look like something the cat dragged in, Big Brother.  Don’t you ever sleep anymore?”  His voice was still weaker than normal, and still, he often drew breath in the middle of a phrase, but gradually, he was sounding more like the old Joe.

“Sure, I do,” said Hoss heartily.  “Jest this morning, I slept on the way into town.  Ol’ Chubby knows the road so well he don’t even need me to tell him where to go.”  He chuckled at his own joke, but Joe didn’t join in.

“This is nuts,” he said.  “You’ve all been turnin’ yourselves . . . inside out to be here.  I appreciate it, I really do . . . but you all need a break.  Mrs. Martin . . . can watch out for a while.  Or . . . maybe Maggie can come by.”  Maggie Donaldson had stopped in to sit with Joe on several occasions since their aborted dinner date.  The additional assistance was so desperately needed that, reluctantly, Ben turned a blind eye to the obvious impropriety of an unmarried woman visiting his son’s bedside.

“You trying to get rid of us?” Ben teased, but the fatigue in his eyes was too obvious.

“I’m trying to make sure you all . . . survive until I get home,” said Joe.  “Besides, Maggie’s a whole lot . . . prettier than Hoss.”

“That’s not saying much,” opined Adam from the doorway.  “The kid has a point, Pa,” he added.  “You look like you could use a break.”

“Thank you very much, son,” said Ben.  “And, of course, you always look fresh as a spring meadow when you’ve been up all night.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” said Joe.  “None of you needs to . . . be up all night.  Doc and Mrs. Martin . . . can log some of that time.”

“Joseph, the decision has already been made,” said Ben firmly.  Granted, he felt more comfortable with the idea now than he would have two weeks ago, but the truth was that Joe wasn’t out of the woods yet, and Ben was still unwilling to leave him without family beside him.  Not even in the depths of his heart would he admit the true reason:  God forbid the worst were to happen, there should be family by the boy’s side.

* * *

The candles on the Christmas tree burned brightly as the carols rang through the room.  It had taken all Joe’s powers of persuasion to sell his father on the notion that sitting up at the piano took no more energy than lying on the settee.  “Just for a little while,” Ben said finally.  He wasn’t about to let on that Joe’s words hadn’t convinced him at all; he’d just seen the young man cast one too many longing looks across the room to where the piano stood.  So, finally, he’d agreed.

He felt a bittersweet joy as he watched his son’s delight.  There was a light that shone when Joe played that just wasn’t there any other time.  It had been weeks since the young man had touched a piano-not since the day of his first attack.  Ben knew that, given his druthers, the doctor would have kept Joe at the clinic at least through the holidays, if not through the winter.  Joe, of course, had been equally adamant that he wanted to go home.  The decision had been a struggle for Ben, but seeing his sons gathered around the piano, laughing and singing, he was certain they’d made the right decision in bringing Joe home for Christmas. Maybe his last one, he thought before he could stop himself.

Ben shook his head to rid himself of such a notion.  Joe would be fine.  He had to be.  Ben still prayed daily for his son’s healing, even though the doctor had told him that Joe’s heart was severely damaged and would likely never improve much.

“You may have to be satisfied with having more time with him,” Doc said gently.  

“Miracles happen,” said Ben stubbornly.

“It’s a miracle he survived that last attack,” the doctor said.  “I don’t know how many miracles one man gets, but that was a big one, right there.”

“I’m not going to stop asking for more,” said Ben.

The doctor sighed.  He was a man of science, and science did not allow for miracles.  There were things that happened that couldn’t be explained, but when a heart was damaged as badly as Little Joe Cartwright’s–well, that kind of miracle just wasn’t around any more.  All they had now was medicine, and for Joe, that likely wasn’t going to be enough.  Not forever, anyway.

Ben crossed the room and laid a hand on Joe’s shoulder.  It had already been a long day.  Maggie and Jacob had joined them for Christmas dinner, after which Jacob had been persuaded to take a nap only after hearing that Joe would be doing the same.  The little boy had curled up next to the young man, and they’d slept most of the afternoon.  Even so, only an hour after their guests had departed, Joe already looked pale and tired, and Ben’s voice caught in his throat when he tried to join in the singing.  “All right, that’s enough,” he said instead at the end of “Silent Night.”

“Just one more, Pa?  Pleeeeease?” Joe did his best imitation of his seven-year-old self begging to stay up a little later, and Ben had to look away as sudden tears threatened.

“It’s the settee or your bed, young man!”  He managed to sound gruff and joking, as if it was all in good fun, but something in his voice must have betrayed him, because no one laughed, and when Hoss went to lift Joe to carry him back to the settee, Joe didn’t even argue that he could walk that distance just fine.

Once Joe was settled in on the settee, Hop Sing brought out the coffee, and they relaxed, reminiscing about Christmases past.  Hoss plopped himself down on the end of the settee, with Joe’s feet resting in his lap.  Adam settled into the blue velvet chair, and Ben drew his leather chair closer to the settee.

After a while, as Ben was about to declare the evening finished, Joe said, “Did I ever tell you that Robin wanted us to come back to the Ponderosa for Christmas?”

“No, you didn’t,” said Ben.  “When was this?”

“She came up with the idea in the spring, about six or seven months after we got to San Francisco,” said Joe.  “She figured that, by Christmas, I’d be over twenty-one, so it would be all right to let everybody know where we were, because nobody could do anything about our marriage.”

“Pretty clever,” mused Adam.

“She was sharp, all right,” said Joe.  “But she thought of this before–well, before she was going to have a baby.  Once we knew that, we decided to push the trip off until spring.  And then–well, she died in September, so we never made it.”  His gaze turned inward, remembering.

“Why did she want to come here for Christmas?” asked Hoss.  “I mean, considering ever’thing-” he broke off awkwardly.

Joe smiled.  “Because she wanted so much for Pa and me to make up,” he said.  “She figured nobody stays mad over Christmas.  And then, when it turned out she was going to have a baby, she just said we’d wait until spring, when the baby was old enough to make the trip.”  Reflectively, he said, “She wanted so much to be able to bring our baby here.  She wanted Pa to hold his grandchild.”  His voice trailed off, remembering.

“Why was it so important to her that you and Pa make up?”  Adam found himself curious about this woman he’d heard so much about, but never actually met.

“Because she knew how important it was to me,” Joe said.  “That was all the reason she ever needed to do anything.  If it was important to me, that was good enough for her.”  He fell silent for a minute.  Then, he mustered up a stronger, more casual tone.  “And the same thing was true for me.  That’s how we ended up in San Francisco in the first place–I didn’t care where we went, as long as we were together, but she wanted to go there and be a singer.  So, we went.”

“And you turned out to be a piano player,” said Adam lightly, in an attempt to cover their father’s silence.  “Who’d have thought it?”

“Not me, that’s for sure,” said Joe, matching Adam’s tone and efforts.  When Ben didn’t smile, he reached over and laid a hand on his father’s arm.  After a minute, Ben looked up at his youngest son and forced a smile.

“Sounds as if she was a remarkable woman, son,” he said quietly.  “I’m sorry I never met her.”

Joe nodded.  “So am I.”