After ordering drinks, they mulled over the big leather-bound menus. 
Monica pointed out several items that her mother might be able to eat, 
but each time Enriqueta Reyes found some reason not to order it. 
Monica gave up trying to help her mother when John diverted her 
attention to his selection. 

"Look, Monica," he said, "they've got crawfish etouffe. I wonder how 
East Coast etouffe compares with Nawleans etouffe." 

"Where?", asked Andy excitedly. Monica leaned over and pointed to the 
item on the menu. "Oh, my, I haven't had that since my last trip to 
New Orleans a year ago. When we lived there, I loved to go down to the 
waterfront and eat at one of those ramshackle restaurants. It seemed 
the worse the place looked, the better the crawfish. I was quite an 
expert at sucking heads and pinching tails." 

Monica and John laughed along with Andy. "Yeah," said John, "I was 
pretty fond of that, too. It's messy, but it's good." 

"I always thought it was a disgusting way to eat," said Enriqueta, 
shuddering slightly. 

"That's not the way I remember it, Rikki," Andy said with a 
reminiscent smile. "I vividly recall one night when you and Therese 
Hebert had a contest to see who could eat the most crawfish. When you 
were through, you two looked like pigs that had been slopped. Greasy 
fingers, greasy mouths; somehow or another a crawfish tail had gotten 
tangled in your hair." 

"Ma-MA!", exclaimed Monica. "You? Oh, my God! That's one scene I'd 
love to have a picture of. Who won?" 

"Therese, if I'm not mistaken," said Andy, ignoring his wife's 
disapproving stare. "She ate four and half pounds of boiled crawfish. 
Your mama tried, but she couldn't quite manage that much." 

"She cheated," said Enriqueta with a lift of her head. "I was eight 
months pregnant with your older brother, how could I possibly beat her 
in that condition." 

"So-o-o, how much did you eat, Mom?" 

Enriqueta cleared her throat and adjusted her earring. "Four and a 
quarter pounds. As I said, I could have won, but I carried your 
brother very high, and he was pushing up on my stomach." 

Monica pressed her lips together to keep from laughing, and John 
looked down at the menu to hide his own efforts. He was having a hard 
time getting the picture of the elegant woman sitting next to Monica 
chowing down on a pot full of crawfish out of his mind. He glanced 
over at Andy, who gave him a conspiratorial wink. John liked the man 
more and more. 

Their drinks arrived and the waiter took their orders. But before he 
could leave Enriqueta stopped him. 

"My wine glass is dirty," she said flatly. As she handed the offending 
glass back to the waiter she pointed to the lipstick smudge that was 
faintly visible. "And I've changed my mind, I don't want pinot blanc. 
Bring me a GOOD chablis instead." 

The waiter took the glass and bowed his head. Enriqueta ignored him, 
instead focusing her attention on the silver ware. She picked up each 
piece and inspected it as if she were an operating room nurse looking 
for unsterilized equipment. 

Monica took a long sip from her own glass of wine. This night was 
becoming a millstone around her neck, and she wished it would just be 
over. John once again took her hand under cover of the table cloth and 
she clung to it as if it were a lifeline. 

"Sir," John turned to Monica's father, "how is your conference going? 
Have you presented your lecture yet?" 

"It's been a very wonderful conference," said Andy as he leaned back 
against the upholstered seat. He draped his arm casually around his 
wife's shoulders, and to John's surprise, she settled comfortably 
against Andy's side. For all of her arrogant attitude, it appeared she 
adored her husband, as he did her. She smiled slightly as he patted 
her arm. 

"I gave presented one paper today and have another to give the day 
after tomorrow. I'm hoping that one is as well received. It's one the 
Olmecs, a people that predated the Aztecs. Have you ever been to 
Mexico, John?" 

"Once or twice," John admitted, lifting his glass. "Salud." He held 
out his glass to toast Monica's parents. 

"Amor y dinero," smiled Andy, touching his glass to John's. 

"And the time to enjoy them all," finished Monica in English as she 
clinked her glass against John's and her father's. 

"You should wait until everyone has their drink," said Enriqueta 
disapprovingly. 

"Use your water glass, Rikki," laughed Andy. "And quit being such a 
stick in the mud, or I'll have to punish you later." He kissed his 
wife's temple as she scowled slightly. 

"Pa-PA!", said a shocked Monica, her face red with embarrassment. 

"Oh, don't worry, Nikita, we'll wait unil your asleep, and then we'll 
be very quiet. Well, at least *I* will. Oowwwfffff," he sputtered as 
his wife elbowed him in the abdomen. 

"Juan de Dios Andres Reyes Morales! Act your age!", she demanded 
indignantly. 

"Oops, I think I've made her angry, John. She's using more and more of 
my names. When the Reyes women start going to the trouble of calling 
your full name, you are in big trouble." 

John laughed along with him as Monica sat with her hands covering her 
face. 

"This is SO much more information about my parents than I ever wanted 
to know," she moaned. "A child, even an adult child, never wants to 
admit her parents did anything so...well, who wants to think of their 
parents having...", she shuddered. 

"Please, Monica," said Enriqueta. "Do you think you and your brothers 
and sisters were immaculate conceptions? Once, maybe, but five times? 
I don't think so. And get your elbows off the table."

****************

As the meal progressed, nothing pleased Enriqueta. The greens in her 
salad were not fresh, her grilled chicken breast was overcooked, the 
sauce was unremarkable, the service slow. John and Andy ignored all 
her complaints, focussing instead on an indepth dissection of the 
previous fall's World Series and its outcome. 

Monica, however, had to sit and listen to each of her mother's 
complaints until her head felt as if it were going to explode. At one 
point, her mother wanted to go to the restroom and insisted Monica 
accompany her. She hoped the facility was spotless or she'd have to 
hear about it for the rest of the evening. 

"You must forgive my wife," said Andy as he and John returned to their 
seats after the ladies had left. "She's not usually quite so..." 

"Hard to please?", smiled John when Andy paused. The older man smiled 
back. 

"Exactly. I'm not sure what's going on inside her head, but I know my 
wife doesn't do anything without a reason." 

"Maybe she doesn't like me," said John as he leaned back against the 
banquette and stretched his arms along the top of the seat. 

"No, I don't think that's it. She has something up her sleeve, but 
she's not made me privy to what it is. I suspect we'll both know soon 
enough." 

At that moment, the ladies returned and John felt a knot form in the 
pit of his stomach. Accompanying Monica and her mother, a big 
satisfied smile on his face, was none other than Brad Follmer. 
Enriqueta's arm was linked with his, and she arched one eyebrow as 
John and Andy stood to let the women sit down. 

"Look who we found," Enriqueta sad happily. "Andres, you remember 
Brad, don't you? Brad, this is John Doggett, Monica's partner. Do you 
two know each other?" 

"Yes," the two men said at the same time. 

"Ah, wonderful. Then, Brad, you must join us for dessert. We have just 
finished a wonderful meal, and I feel like having something sweet. 
Please, sit down." Enriqueta gently pushed Brad onto the banquette, 
"You must between me and Monica. That way, we can both enjoy sitting 
next to such a handsome and charming man." 

Monica gave John an apologetic look as she sat down next to Brad. She 
did not slide in close to him, even though it was crowded with five 
people. She waited until John sat down, then moved next to him until 
he had to put his arm around her to keep from falling out of the 
booth. Andy covered his mouth with his hand, hiding his grin. He knew 
his daughter had made a choice, and he approved it. He wasn't so sure 
of his wife, however. 

"So, A.D. Follmer, what brings you here tonight?", asked John. 

"Please, for tonight, call me Brad," he said with a smug look. 

"Sure," said John in a tone that indicated he'd rather have his tongue 
ripped out by hot sugar tongs before he'd call the man by his first 
name. 

"I was here meeting some friends and was just on my way out, when I 
ran into these two beautiful women. They insisted I come back and sit 
awhile with you all. Hope you don't mind, old man?" His look told John 
he didn't give a rat's hairless tail whether he minded or not. 

"Brad, when are you coming to visit us in La Cuidad again? We had such 
fun when you were there before." Enriqueta patted Brad's arm. 

"Whenever Monica invites me again," Brad said, looking at Monica with 
raised eyebrows. 

"Jeez, it's too bad you'll never get to go back, then," said Monica 
with a snort. 

"Monica!", admonished her mother. "Don't be rude! Brad has always been 
a good friend to us, AND to you." 

"Well, then, Mother, YOU invite him. I'm going to be busy for a while, 
with work and all." 

"Yes," said Enriqueta with a touch of disapproval, "I can see you're...
occupied."

****************

The next forty-five minutes dragged by for Monica. By the time her 
mother finally decided it was time to leave, she had a pounding 
headache and her meal was sitting uncomfortably in her stomach. She 
sighed with relief when Enriqueta announced that she was ready to go 
home. 

After John paid the check, the five of them stood for a brief time on 
the sidewalk in front of the restaurant. Brad and Enriqueta were 
talking, making plans to get together to hear Andy's next presentation. 
Monica and John stood slightly apart from the others, her arms crossed 
across her midriff, his hands clasped behind him. They were speaking 
softly. 

"Call me later," he said. "I haven't had a chance to tell you how 
beautiful you look." 

"Please," she said, looking down at her dress and smoothing it across 
her abdomen, "I know better than that." 

John started to speak, but he looked up and saw Andy watching them. 
The older man nodded slightly at him, then interrupted Brad and 
Enriqueta. Slipping his arm around his wife's waist, and clasping 
Brad's shoulder, he turned them away from Monica and John and started 
walking with them towards Monica's car, asking Brad how he liked his 
new assignment as assistant director. 

As soon as their backs were turned, John took Monica's face in his 
hands and kissed her. She responded with a relieved sigh, grasping his 
jacket lapels in her hands. Andy glanced over his shoulder just in 
time to see Monica wipe her kiss from John's lips with her thumb. She 
licked her own lips, as if to savor his taste. The two stood apart and 
started following the others, not touching, but close enough that they 
would occasionally bump into each other. 

When they all reached Monica's car, goodnights were exchanged, and 
Brad and John stood together on the curb as she pulled into traffic. 

"Nice family," said Brad, rocking on his heels. "Her brothers and 
sisters are just as intelligent and charming as their parents. Maybe 
some day you'll get to meet them." His tone indicated he didn't 
believe it would be any time soon. "Her mother is wonderful, AND she 
thinks the world of me." 

"Well, her opinion of me is probably less than good," said John, with 
a smug smile, "but, then again, it's the daughter's opinion that's 
more important, don't you agree?" 

"Not necessarily. I think her mother's opinion means a great deal to 
Monica, and if she doesn't approve of...anyone, well, then, she might 
just alter her own opinion to match her mother's." 

"If Enriqueta thinks so much of you, then what happened between you 
and Monica? I mean, if her mother's opinion means so much to her." 

Brad's smile faltered, "That...that may have been my fault. Something 
I did that pissed Monica off. But," he said, his confidence returning, 
"I think I can rectify that, now that I know how Enriqueta feels." 

"Don't be so sure, *Brad*," John said with barely concealed contempt. 
"I think Monica's independent enough to make her own decisions, 
regardless of her mother's approval, or lack of it." 

"Well, Agent Doggett, we'll just wait and see, all right?" The A.D's 
eyes were cold, and the smile he had on his face didn't reach them. 

"Most definitely, Assistant Director."

************

It was a couple of hours later before John's phone rang. He was lying 
in bed watching television, the cordless phone gripped tightly in his 
hand. He answered it on the first ring. 

"Hello?" 

"Hey," came Monica's soft tired voice. 

"Hey, yourself," he said with a grin. "How's it going?" 

"Oh," she sighed, "they're asleep. I've got a headache from hell, and 
I've just taken a couple of aspirin. How are you doing?" 

"I miss you." 

"I don't know why," she said with a catch in her voice. "Tonight was a 
disaster. My mother can be a little uptight when she's meeting someone 
new, but Lord, she was down right rude! I don't think I've ever seen 
her act like that. I'm so sorry, John, I just...don't...jeez, you're 
gonna think my whole family's like that." He heard her sniff back her 
tears. 

"Hey, it's all right," he said soothingly. "I'm not out to impress 
your mother, sweetheart. And I'm worried about only one member of the 
Reyes family. As long as you think I'm worth the trouble, that's all 
that matters." 

"Oh, you're definitely worth it," she said her voice quivering. 

"Did I tell you how wonerful you looked tonight? That dress made you 
look very hot," he said with a chuckle. 

"Oh, John, please!", she said with a pleased smile. But it was quickly 
replaced by the threat of more tears. "I don't see how you could 
notice, next to my mother. She always looks so...elegant and perfectly 
turned out. I feel like some gigantic oaf next to her; ill-dressed, 
sweaty palms, stringy hair." 

"Monica!", John said sharply. "That's enough! What is the problem? You 
are nothing like your mother, you're not supposed to be. You're a 
completely differently individual. A wonderful, beautiful, intelligent 
person who should be proud of all her accomplishments. I've never 
heard you talk about yourself like this before, and I want you to 
stop. I love YOU, Monica. Not your mother, or your sisters, or anybody 
else in your family. And I love you for who you are, not who you think 
you should be. Do you understand? Monica?" He repeated her name 
several times, but all he could hear was her sobbing softly. 

"I wish ya-you were he-here," she cried. 

"I do, too," he said softly. "I would make you realize how special you 
are." 

"Ha-how?" 

"Well, first off, I'd repeat everything I just said until you believed 
me. Then, I'd kiss your lips. Do you know how soft and sweet your lips 
are?" 

"Unh-unh," she said, settling deeper into the blanket she had wrapped 
herself in when she lay down on her sofa. 

"Well, they are. Then, I'd kiss the tears from your eyes and remove 
their traces from your cheeks. However, I'd make you blow your nose, 
cuz, personally, snot makes me queasy." 

She giggled appreciatively, and he smiled into the phone. "What 
else?", she asked. 

"I'd whisper in your ear how much I love you, right before I started 
kissing it. I'd you down your neck to your shoulder, then follow the 
line of your collar bone to the front of your neck. Then..." 

"Your hands?" 

"My..my hands?", he asked. 

"Yeah, what would your hands be doing?" She lay with her eyes closed, 
the blanket gripped tightly between her knees, one hand holding the 
phone, the other playing with the top button of her pajama shirt. 

"Monica," he laughed softly, "I'd rather show you than tell you." 

"I know, but it ain't happening this week. So, please, where would 
your hands be?" 

He was silent for a moment, then he, too, burrowed deeper into his 
blankets. "Well, I'd be holding you close with one hand, but with the 
other, I'd...." 

"Monica!" 

John could hear her mother's voice in the background. 

"Oh, sh*t," Monica muttered. "Yes, Mother? Hang on, John," she said 
softly into the phone. 

"Monica, it's after 2:00 a.m. Don't you think you need to get some 
sleep before work in a few hours? Now, say good night to whomever 
you're talking to, and go to bed." 

"But, Mother..." 

"Go to sleep, Monica, I'll talk to you tomorrow," John said. 

"But...but...", she sputtered. 

"I love you, good night, baby." 

"But...", she sighed, frustrated. "Oh, hell, good night. I love you, 
too." She hung up the phone. 

"Who were you talking to at this late hour?", asked her mother. 

"A phone sex line, Mother. Good night." Monica pulled the blanket over 
her head and turned her back to her mother. 

She heard her mother hesitate a moment, then go back to the bedroom. 
She waited until she heard the door click, then quickly dialed John's 
number again. When he answered, she didn't wait for him to speak. 

"I love you, John. Sleep well, and dream of me." She hung up without 
giving him an opportunity to respond. 

He smiled at the buzzing receiver. "I always do."

*****************

The next few days John and Monica saw little of each other. She was 
busy with work and her parents, and he was still supposedly confined 
to home. However, on the next to the last day of Monica's parents' 
visit, he went to the doctor and got a release to go back to work. 
There was still no explanation for his sudden coma nor for his even 
more sudden recovery. Because all his tests came back negative, there 
seemed to be no further reason to keep him housebound. 

He had just returned home from the doctor's and was reaching for the 
phone to call Monica, when his front door bell rang. When he opened 
it, he was surprised to find Enriqueta Reyes standing there. 

"Mrs. Reyes, please come in," he said as he stepped back to let her 
pass. 

She stepped across the threshold and looked slowly around, taking in 
the Spartan furnishings. 

"It's...it's not much, I know, but..." 

"It's much better than the place my son lived in when he was first 
divorced," she said with a small smile. "I kept wondering why a 35-
year-old man would want to live like he was still in college. Thank 
God, he met his second wife soon after that, and she managed to clean 
up his slovenly ways. This," she said as she ran her hand across the 
back of the upholstered chair just inside the living room, "this is 
very functional." 

"Uh, thanks, I think," he said. "Um, is there something that I can 
help you with? Somewhere I can take you?" 

"May I sit?", she asked as she proceeded to make herself comfortable 
on his sofa. 

"Of course, I'm sorry. Can I get you something to drink? Soda? Iced 
tea? Coffee?" 

"Nothing, thank you. I've actually come on a rather personal matter, 
if you don't mind." She indicated for him to sit down next to her. 
"I understand from my daughter that you've been ill. How are you 
doing?" 

"Fine," he said, puzzled by her question. "I just got back from the 
doctor and he gave me a clean bill of health. I can return to work on 
Monday, thank God. I'm tired of sitting around doing nothing." 

"That's wonderful," she said. "A clean bill of health. How...how 
fortunate." She was silent for a moment, looking about the room. She 
cleared her throat delicately, then completely surprised him by her 
next question. "John, do you love my daughter?" 

He looked at her for a bit, trying to fathom the reason behind her 
question. She didn't seem angry, or outraged, or concerned, or...
anything. It appeared to be just a question she wanted an answer to. 
He decided not to lie. 

"Yes," he said matter-of-factly. 

"Truly?" 

"As truly as her father loves her mother." 

She chuckled slightly, "Then that is a very true love. Thank you." 

"For what?", he asked. 

"For loving my daughter. And for not beating around the bush when I 
asked you." 

"Mrs. Reyes..." 

"Enriqueta, please," she said touching his hand lightly. "No one but 
my husband calls me Rikki. Even my closest friends, and I do have 
some, believe or not," she chuckled again, "call me Enriqueta." 

"Well, ma'am, I gotta admit, I'm very confused. I would have sworn on 
a stack of Bibles that you didn't like me. I was sure you preferred 
Brad Follmer over me, any day." 

"Ah, Brad," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I'm sorry, 
but I tired ages ago of having a wet ass from his kissing it all the 
time. His constant fawning over me was a constant irritant when he and 
Monica were together." 

"But..but, I still don't understand." 

"John, I wanted to see you and Brad with Monica, so I arranged for 
that little charade at the restaurant. I called Brad and told him to 
meet us there. I'm sorry, but I needed to make sure my daughter had 
made the right decision." 

"And?" John was trying to control his temper. He'd been manipulated 
and he wasn't happy. 

"Well, all I can is, thank God you came back into her life when you 
did." 

"Why? Don't you think Monica's old enough to make her own decisions 
about her life without any interference from you or her father?" 

"Yes, you're right, of course you're right. But, Monica has always 
been one of those people who bring home strays. Whether it's a dog 
who's ribs are showing from starvation, or a person she thinks she can 
change with love and kindness. She had told me something of your 
background, and I wanted to make sure she hadn't..." 

"Adopted another stray." 

"Exactly." 

**************

"Mrs. Reyes..Enriqueta..what were you planning on doing if it turned 
out I didn't pass your muster?" Her remarks about his being a possible 
sympathy case that Monica had attached herself to still stung. 

"I'm not sure," she admitted with a shrug of her shoulder. "With Brad, 
it was easy to get Monica to dump him. I realized how ambivalent her 
feelings were for him, so all I had to do was make her think I 
approved of him. I'm afraid it's a mother's rather weak attempt at 
reverse psychology. If I liked him, she'd think he was detestable. It 
worked. But, not fast enough, unfortnately. That man is...", she 
shuddered. "No words can describe his obsequiousness." 

She placed her hand again on his arm, "John, I love my daughter very 
deeply. And I worry about her. Probably more than I worry about the 
others. She's...she's a lot like me, I'm afraid. More than I'd like 
for her to be. She holds things inside, pushing forth this strong 
front so that no one knows how much she is affected by the things 
going on around her. It might be a good thing in her line of work, but 
in her personal life, it will cause unbelievable heartache if the 
person she loves doesn't realize this." 

"Do you know she doesn't think you approve of her?" It was a cruel 
question, but John felt he needed to defend Monica. 

Enriqueta's eyes filled with tears. "Yes," she whispered, "I do. And 
it breaks my heart. I am so proud of her, she's such a remarkable 
woman. But, she...she has always assumed I thought less of her because 
she was so different from her sisters. She calls them the saint and 
the social butterfly. She doesn't realize I don't want clones for 
children, I want individuals. And all my children are definitely their 
own people, thank God." 

"Have you told her?", asked John. 

"When she was a child and a teenager, she already had it firmly set in 
her head that I didn't like her because she was a reader and a 
searcher of the truth, so to speak. She wouldn't listen to me then, 
and now, as a woman, she doesn't even try to listen." 

"Some of the remarks you made to me about her..." 

"I wanted to see how you'd react. If you had agreed with me, I'd have 
probably drop-kicked you back into the hospital. Monica has shown me a 
few moves that I can use to defend myself," she said with a smile, 
which quickly faded. "I would never speak critically to any of my 
children." 

She looked around the room until her eyes fell on a picture of Luke. 
"Monica tells me you had a child that you lost." 

"Yes," he said softly. 

"God blessed me that I never experienced that most horrible pain a 
parent can suffer. I don't know if I could have survived if one of my 
children had...", she swallowed and bit her lips. "I'm not sure I 
could survive if anything happened to one of them now." She looked 
back at John, "You are still young enough to have more children. You 
should consider it." 

"Another child could never replace Luke," he said bitterly. 

"Of course not, I would never suggest that. Each child is special, 
different. As I said, they're not clones, nor should they be 
considered as such. But," she put her fingers on his chin and turned 
his face towards hers, "I can tell you have an awful lot of love to 
offer. Don't lock it away. You and Monica would have beautiful 
children." 

He laughed and took Enriqueta's hand in his, kissing the back of it. 
"Enriqueta, I just told her a few days ago how I felt. I think it 
might be a little premature to start planning on anything so...long 
term." 

"Nonsense," she said, shaking her hand in his, "you two are perfect 
for each other. Unless, of course, you have some other woman on the 
side. I'm not sure Monica would approve of being one of a harem." 

He laughed out loud, "No, no harem. I have a feeling I'm going to have 
enough trouble just handling the one. But, Enriqueta, I still have no 
idea why you suddenly appeared on my doorstep to give me your 
approval." 

Enriqueta's mood quickly sobered. "My daughter is going to need 
someone strong in her life in the next few days. As I said, she'll try 
to put on a strong front, but inside I know she's going to be confused 
and angry and frightened. She'll need you, John." 

"Why? What's wrong?" His grip tightened on her hand. 

"As you know, Andy and I are leaving tomorrow, but we're not going 
back to Mexico City. We're going...we're going to the Sloan-Kettering 
Cancer Hospital in New York. Monica doesn't know it yet, we're telling 
her tonight. I want you to come over, please, John, to be there for 
her when she finds out." 

"She might not want me there, she might find my presence intrusive." 

"*I* want you there. Please, come tonight." She placed her other hand 
on his. 

"All right," he said. "But, Enriqueta, which one of you has...I 
mean..." 

"I...found a small lump in my breast, and my doctor in Mexico City, 
thinks it's cancer."

****************