Andy Reyes sat in one corner of Monica's sofa, his arm around his 
wife's shoulder, his free hand holding one of hers. John sat opposite 
them on a matching chair as Monica paced the room. Enriqueta was 
telling how the lump in her breast had been found; she used both hands 
as she spoke, but when she was listening her left hand returned like a 
homing pigeon to Andy's. 

"I had gone for my yearly mammogram screening," she explained, "and 
thought nothing of it. I had never felt anything, and the technician 
who examined my breasts after the mammogram didn't feel anything, 
either. So, imagine my surprise when Dr. Cuellar called to tell me 
there was an area of...suspicion, is how he phrased it. He wanted to 
do an ultrasound and then send me to surgeon for a possible aspiration 
of the lump. But, I said why wait? Let's just go ahead and do the 
aspiration. I'm glad I insisted, the pathology came back malignant." 

She looked away, shaking her head. "Poor Armando Cuellar. In thirty 
years of having him take care of all our medical problems, I had never 
seen him so...distraught. He got on the phone immediately, while I sat 
there in his office trying to understand what he'd just told me, and called a friend of his at Sloan-Kettering. They arranged for me to be seen tomorrow." 

"Papi," asked Monica, "were you there when she...when Dr. Cuellar told her?" 

"No," he said, shaking his head sadly, "there had been a problem at one of the factories, so I couldn't go with her. The most difficult moment of her life, and I was not there." He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. 

"Hearing the news wasn't as hard as telling you, mi amor. All the way home I kept thinking, he's not going to love me anymore if they have to remove my breast. How can he love me if I'm only half a woman? How can I face this if he's not by my side?" 

"Enriqueta!", he exclaimed, "I'm...I'm appalled that you would think so little of me! Don't you realize by now, after forty years of marriage, that I love you for what's in your heart and in your mind, not what's on the front of your chest. It doesn't matter to me if they remove a breast, or an arm, or a leg. I'll love you the same." He drew her to him and kissed her as he had never kissed her before in front of their children. 

It was a kiss so full of love and passion that Monica gave a strangled cry. John went to stand beside her and let her cling to him as she silently wept. Slowly, her sobs lessened and he wiped her cheeks with his hand. 

"Okay," she said as she pulled away from John with a grateful smile, her voice catching slightly as she went into Agent Reyes mode, "enough tears, it's time to plan our fight. Mom, were all of your previous mammogams normal?" 

"Yes, and I've been faithful about getting them, especially since your grandmother Chela died." Enriqueta gasped, "Oh, Monica, this means you and your sisters MUST get screened every year. With your father's mother dying from breast cancer, and now me...", she swallowed hard, her eyes wide with fear, "well, promise me you will do this. Promise!" 

"I promise, Mami, and I'll make sure Crissy and Steffi get their's, also." She nodded her head emphatically. "Okay, so all your mammogams have been normal. Then, Mom, maybe it's been discovered early enough that radical treatment won't be necessary. What did Dr. Cuellar think? Does he think that's a possibility?" 

"That is what he's hoping, mi hija. That's why he wants me to be seen in New York. We will know better after I see the specialists there." 

"I want to go with you," Monica said. "I can't...I can't stay here, waiting for an answer." 

"No," said Enriqueta sternly. "There is no need. Tomorrow is nothing more than a consultation to discuss my options. I want your father there, but..I'm sorry, Monica, but I'd prefer you didn't go." 

"Why?", asked Monica, her feelings hurt. 

"Well, if you must know the truth, I'm afraid you'll want to...take over." Enriqueta stood up, and went towards her daughter, her hands outstretched. "I'm afraid you sometimes treat me as if I had not sense whatever. I don't want to have everything...filtered through you as if I were some kind of mental incompetent. This is my future at stake here, and I want to be in control. If I need your help, I'll ask for it, mi hija, but for right now, I want to know that have your prayers and your support." 

Monica stood opened-mouthed, staring at her mother as if she'd never seen her before. 

"Dios mio," muttered Andy. "Round two."

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

"Two coffees, please. And a couple of those muffins. Uh, blueberry, and....banana nut." 
"Yes, sir. Do you want cappuchino? Latte? Espre....?" The young man behind the counter stopped reciting the choices as the older man gave him a look that would stop traffic. 

"Just coffee." 

"Uh, well, we have Moroccan, Turkish, Arabian, C-C-Colum..bee..uh,..." He gave a nervous smile as the man's face turned to absolute stone. "Y-y-yes, s-s-sir. Two coffees." He grabbed two tall styrofoam cups, not daring to ask what size the man wanted. He filled the cups, placed them on a small tray along with the two muffins and some paper napkins. 

The man handed him a twenty-dollar bill, "Keep the change." He took the tray and went to sit beside a dark-haired woman sitting at the only occupied tables in the shop. 

She had her head bowed, and the counter clerk could see that she'd been crying. Lousy b*stard, he thought, making her cry like that. She'd obviously been at it for hours; her nose was red, her eyes swollen, and she sniffled quietly. 

"Here, hon, eat a little something," John said as he pulled his chair close to hers. "You haven't eaten anything." 

"I'm n-n-not hun-hungry," she said. "Besides, this much coffee's gonna keep me awake. What time is it, anyway?" 

"Almost midnight. You and your mother have been at it for hours. Do you..how do you feel?" He reached up and pushed her damp hair from her forehead. 

"I feel so..so," her voice cracked with another sob, "so bad. All those years we wasted. If we had only been more willing to li-listen to each other, maybe...maybe we'd've had th-the relationship we bo-both wanted. And now...and now..." She started to cry in earnest and he put his arms around her and let her sob into his shoulder. 

"It's all right, honey, it's gonna be fine. Now you two have talked it all out and you'll see, things are gonna be a lot better. You both could have probably done better communicating, but now, it's all out in the open and you both realize how much you mean to each other. Shush, sweetie, you're gonna make yourself sick, crying so much." He rubbed her back with one hand, while patting her hair with the other. 

"But..but why did it have to wait until...until...she...got..." Monica couldn't continue. 

"I don't know, hon, but it did. Sometimes good things come out of really bad events. Now, you both need to take advantage, and make this an opportunity to build a better relationship. And then, in a few years, when she's all recovered, you two can point to this as a turning point and celebrate what came out of it. She'll be fine, Monica," he took her face in his hands, "believe me. Your mother's a fighter, and she's gonna beat this, you watch." 

"Really?", she said, wanting to believe that he could see a brighter future for her and her mother. "John, I don't know what I'd've done if you hadn't come by." 

He wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs, and gave her a tender smile. "Your mother..." 

"My mother," she chuckled, "still trying to run my life. Thank God, though, that she did. I guess I need to see that she's not trying to interfer when she does that, and realize that sometimes she might actually know best. Or, at least what's better." She turned her face in his hands and kissed one palm. "Thank you for being there." 

"Hey, it's the least I could do. After all you've done for me while I was sick." He kissed her lightly, then sat back, taking her hand in his. 

"John," she said, looking down at their clasped hands, "that wasn't a dream, was it? I've been thinking about it, and it seemed so real. I can remember such detail..." 

He shrugged, "I don't know, Monica, it seems so...far-fetched. Demons, angels," he shook his head. "I mean, I'm no one special, so why such interest in what happens to me?" 

"Who's to say we're not all special to the other side," Monica said, carefully breaking off a small piece of muffin. "And *I* have an interest in what happens to you. Maybe we should look at this as another one of those good things coming out of bad events," she smiled. "Or at least, that's how I look at it. Maybe you don't," she said, giving him a sideways glance. 

"Oh, it's definitely a good thing," he agreed. 

"John, why are we here?", she asked suddenly. 

"I don't know, Monica, maybe we're all here for some reason we haven't yet fathomed. Maybe we'll stay here until we finally figure it out." 

"No, no," she shook her head quickly, "no, why are *we* *here*?", she said as she waved her hand back and forth between them, then around her head to indicate the interior of the coffee shop. 

"Oh. Well, um, after you and your mother had made up and all, I thought that she and Andy would like a little time alone. You know, the next few days are going to be really rough for them, and they're not going to have too much time to just...be together. So," he shrugged, "I told him I'd keep you out for a couple of hours. That way, they could prepare themselves emotionally for the trip to New York." 

"Oh, that's so sweet!", she said, her eyes filling with tears again. "But, John, I'm so tired. It's been a draining evening and I really just want to go home. I'm sleeping on the couch, so, I can just quietly go back into the living room without disturbing them. They can talk all night if they want, but I really need to go to bed. Just take me home, okay?" 

"Uh, Monica, I don't know..." 

"Please, John?" She stroked his face softly, her eyes pleading. 

He sighed and clicked his tongue. "Okay." 

He drove her home, and watched as she climbed the stairs to her apartment. He waited until he thought she'd unlocked the door and gone in. She was supposed to signal him with the lamp by the window by flipping it off and on. He waited, but no light. Suddenly, the door to the apartment building was flung open and she came racing down the steps and jumped back into his truck. 

"What's wrong?", he asked. 

"Omigod," she said, her face burning. 

"Monica, what happened?" 

"Just...just drive around for a while, okay?" 

"Monica," he demanded, "tell me what's wrong?" 

Her face was bright red as she said, "I didn't realize my parents could be so...noisy when they're...they're...", she stopped and clear her throat. "Just drive, John." 

He roared with laughter as he pulled away from the curb. 

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

He drove around for awhile, chuckling softly whenever he imagined the scene in Monica's apartment. She sat silently, trying to erase the mental image *she* kept conjuring up. 
"Ya know," she said with a sigh, "I guess you never really accept the fact that your parents can be sexual creatures. I mean, you know that they must have had sex at least a certain number of times in order for you and your siblings to be conceived. But, I don't think a child, no matter how old, realizes that maybe, just maybe, they have sex because they enjoy it." 

"Well," said John as he pulled into the parking area of small wooded park. "I guess it's because we still see sex as something slightly dirty and we can't believe our parents would do anything like that. *WE* may enjoy it, but that's okay. *They* should be above that sort of carnal activity." 

He unbuckled his seatbelt and slid over next to her. "How 'bout you, Agent Reyes? Do you engage in carnal activity?" He slipped his arm around her and nibbled her ear. 

She closed her eyes against the sensations his kiss awoke. "Hmmm, not in the front seat of a pick-up truck." She reached down and removed her own seatbelt, then wrapped her arms around his neck, digging her fingers into his hair as his mouth moved slowly, slowly down her neck. 

"Let's go to my place," he whispered huskily. His hand was making its way from her shoulder, down her arm, to her breast, caressing it gently through the material of her shirt and bra. 

She gave a soft moan, then tilted his head up so that she could capture his lips with hers. As their kiss intensified, the pressure from his hand increased. When she took his hand and started to move it away, he didn't protest. But when she slid it under her shirt and bra so he could touch her bare breast, he pulled back to look into her eyes. She smiled seductively at him, and started to pull her shirt over her head. 

He watched in fascination as she reached back to unhook her bra. Just as it started to slip off, a loud rap startled them. She grabbed her shirt to cover herself as a bright light shone onto them both. 

"Okay, kids," came a loud masculine voice, "break it up in there. Lower your window, please." 

John and Monica exchanged sheepish glances as he pushed the button to lower the electric window. All of the windows were steamed up. 

"Yes, Officer?", he said, trying to avoid the light shining now in his face. 

"Oh, Lord, another old couple," the uniformed policeman muttered. "Kids I can understand, but you two ought to know better." He shined the light in Monica's face, then down to where she was clasping her shirt in front of her. "I don't think I recognize you. Are you one of the new girls in this area? I'll let you off this time, but if I ever catch you in this park with another john, I'll bust you good. 

"But, I'm not...." she started. 

"Yeah, yeah, you've never done anything like this before. What's your name, honey, so I'll remember it the next time." The cope pulled out a small notebook. 

"Officer, we'll leave. I'm sorry, really, I guess we just got, uh, carried away. This lady's not a pro, we're...", John looked over at Monica. What were they, exactly? *Friends* just didn't seem to apply anymore. 

"Driver's license and registration, please," asked the cop in a bored voice. 

John hesitated for a moment; his driver's license was in his wallet, but the registration for the truck was in the glove box, along with a small gun he carried as a back-up in case he lost his service weapon. 

"Uh, sir, before I get the registration, I need to tell you there's a gun in the glove box. I have a permit for it..." 

"Get out of the truck, both of you," said the cop, his hand now on the butt of his own gun. He muttered into his shoulder mike, and John knew he was requesting for back-up. 

"Can I at least put on my shirt?", asked Monica. 

"Get out of the truck, lady, hands over your head. Now, come around slowly to the front and put your hands on the hood. You, sir, get out and stand beside her." 

With a sigh, John slowly opened the door, got out and walked carefully to the front of the truck, where he stood next to Monica. Three other patrol cars came screeching up, lights flashing. 

"Must be a slow night," he muttered. "I'm sorry. I guess I should have just driven on to my place." 

"I didn't exactly give you a chance," she said softly. 

The four cops stood in a small knot, the first officer telling the others what had happened so far. One went to open the glove box and took out the small gun, as well as the registration for the truck and John's permit to carry the gun. 

Another officer patted John down, asking him to remove his wallet and everything from his pockets. He picked up John's wallet and stared at the driver's license picture. He flipped through the wallet and found a small FBI identification card. He chuckled softly. 

"Hey, look, we caught a Fed with a pro. This ain't gonna look to good on your record, Bud," he said to John with a big grin. 

"I am NOT a prostitute!" fumed Monica. 

"Oh, yeah? Neither of you are wearing wedding bands, so I don't think you're out here 'cuz you're trying to get away from the kiddies. Why else would two people your age be trying to do the nasty in a pick-up, unless it was for money." 

"Look," Monica started, but was interrupted by John. 

"Monica, be quiet." 

"Monica? Hey, you ain't that Monica Lewinsky chick, are you?" The officer shined his light into Monica's face again. "Nah, too old. Too small," he laughed as he moved the light down to her still naked torso. 

"Cabron!", muttered Monica. 

"Puta!", the officer replied.

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

Monica and John sat in the back of the patrol car. After putting her 
shirt back on, the cop asked for identification, and as she started to 
reach into her back pocket to get it, she realized she didn't have it 
with her. When she insisted that she, too, was an FBI agent, he had 
snorted. 

"Yeah, right, honey, I can see you as a Federal agent. I don't think 
the Bureau would hire two of you so dumb that you'd get caught making 
whoopie in a parked truck at one o'clock in the morning." He turned 
and snickered as the other cops watched. The DC cops were enjoying 
catching the high-and-mighty Bureau with its pants down, almost 
literally. 

"Look," she insisted, "I know this looks bad, but, well, there's a 
reasonable explanation..." She turned to John, who tried to step 
between her and the cop. 

"She's right, officer. It wasn't the smartest thing to do, I know, 
but, well, we kinda got caught up in the moment, and, uh...can't you 
just let us off with a warning? I can assure you, this won't happen 
again." 

"Hmmmm, well, maybe I would, but she has nothing to prove who she is. 
For all I know, she could be the new Beltway Madam specializing in 
government employees. Maybe she's a spy, using whatever information 
she can bribe out of you to sell to a foreign government. I could be 
doin' my country a favor by running her in." The cop grinned, he was 
thoroughly enjoying this. 

"Nah," said John, trying to play along with the cop. "She don't look 
the type. I mean, would you hire a working girl, even a high-class 
one, who dressed like that?" He waved his hand to indicate her plain 
shirt and faded jeans. "I mean, even her underwear is rather...
utilitarian." He winked at Monica, so she'd know he was trying to help 
her case. 

He suddenly realized she was not amused. Her arms were folded across 
her abdomen, and she was tapping one foot. The look on her face 
indicated she would rather he didn't help quite so much. 

"Are you two through?", she asked with one eyebrow raised. "Look, 
let's go to my place, I'll get my freakin' badge and show you I'm 
telling the truth. Then, you can go to the nearest donut shop with 
your buddies and laugh your asses off. Right now, though, I wanna go 
home." 

The cop looked over at the other officers, then shrugged. "Sure. You 
wanna go on home, buddy?", he said to John. "And next time, try to be 
a little more discreet. 

"I'll just follow you, if you don't mind," said John. 

"What? Don't trust her?", asked the cop with another chuckle. 

"Uh, no, it's just that, uh, her parents are staying at her place and 
they might not, well, think too highly of me if I let her go home 
escorted by the police. You know what I mean." John gave him a weak 
smile. 

"Tryin' to impress the parents, huh? Kinda old for *that*, too, aren't 
you? I mean, I'd think they'd be happy if anybody would take her off 
their hands." 

Monica shot the officer with a glance of pure malice. He was lucky 
that looks couldn't kill, otherwise she'd be be up for murder charges 
as well as public indecency. 

When they got back to Monica's apartment, the officer followed them up 
and stood outside her door while she went silently inside to get her 
I.D. When she came back out, John was covering his mouth with his 
hand, trying to hide a smile. She glared at him as she handed the 
officer her badge. 

"Okay, you two," the officer said after closing examining the photo, 
"next time, act like adutls." He saluted them with one hand, then 
turned and left. 

"Um, well, I guess I'll be going, too," muttered John. "Your parents 
asleep?" 

"Well, it's quiet, so I'm assuming so," she said sarcastically. She 
stared at him for a moment, "So, you don't think I'd make a good 
prostitute, huh?" She stepped slowly towards him, "I don't dress the 
part, my underwear doesn't meet hooker specifications, I'm too *old*." 
She put her hands on his chest and raised her face to his until they 
were millimeters apart. "Looks don't make a hooker, John, it's the sex 
that does." Her lips were brushing his as she talked. "And now, you'll 
never know." 

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

"Wh-wh-what?", he stuttered. "B-b-but I thought I was defending your 
honor. You didn't want that guy to think you were a..." His hands 
reached for her waist but she slipped away from him. 

"John," she said, shaking her finger at him, "do you know one of the 
problems with most Mexican men? They have this...complex about their 
women. The women they marry become the Madonna image in their minds, 
so they may treat them with respect, but they're not likely to get 
mmmm...down and dirty, ya know what I mean? They save that for their 
mistresses, whore image, if you will." She sat down on the sofa, 
crossing her legs and smiling seductively at him. 

"I may be Mexican American, but I don't hold to that philosophy. 
Personally, I want my man to see me as both, get my drift? Now, if you 
are gonna start trying to put me on some kind of pedestal before we 
even have a chance to...um...well, that could cause some problems. 
Don't you agree?" 

"Mm-hmm," he agreed nervously. 

"Making fun of my underwear was not very nice." 

"I'm..I'm sorry." 

"My mother's here, remember? Do you expect me to use my sexy lingerie 
when she and my father are staying in my room? Using my bathroom? 
Washing my clothes, even though I asked her not to? How would it look 
for her to be sorting out the whites from the colors and come across a 
little bitty demi-bra, or a pair of French-cut panties? What would she 
think of her little girl?" She smiled at his growing discomfort. 

"N-n-no, you're right. I..I mean, if you really, um, have that kind 
of...uh...st-st-stuff, it would probably not make a very good 
impression on your mother...." his voice trailed off. "Do...you...um," 
he cleared his throat, "do you have anything like...uh....?" 

She chuckled softly, "Maybe. Maybe not. Like I said, you may have lost 
your chance to find out." 

He sighed and hung his head. Then he raised it with a smile, "Wait a 
minute, a little bit ago, you said I'd *never* know, and know you're 
saying there's only a chance I may have lost out. Changing your mind, 
Agent Reyes?" He walked slowly behind the sofa and kneeled down until 
his head was level with hers. 

"Do you wanna know what the cop said while we waited for you to get 
your I.D.?", he whispered into her ear. His hands were slowly 
massaging her shoulders, and she bent her head to one side so he could 
kiss her neck. 

"MMmm, what did he say?" Her eyes closed against the languishing kiss. 

"He said, if your were really an FBI agent, you had the best tits he'd 
ever seen for a Fed." 

She smiled as his hands moved from her shoulders down her arms. "What 
did you say to that?" 

"I said, you'd better believe it." His hands slowly crossed her torso, 
coming to rest on her waist. She raised her arms over her head to 
capture his and pull him around for a kiss. 

"Stay tonight," she whispered when he finally pulled away. 

"Monica, not with your parents...." 

"No, no, I mean, just stay with me. I know we can't...but please, I 
want you here. I...I feel less...scared about my mother when you're 
near me. I know I should be adult enough to handle this alone, but...", 
she turned misty eyes to his. 

"I'll be here for you, any time, you know that." He jumped over the 
back of the sofa, and made himself comfortable in one corner. He 
pulled her next to him, and they settled into each other's arms. 

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

Enriqueta was up by six o'clock. She had not slept well; the evening had been very emotionally charged and when she had finally tried to sleep, she kept replaying it in her head. She was glad that she and Monica had been able to talk about their problems, and hopefully come to a better understanding. She hoped Andy was wrong when he told her that she and Monica were just alike; she wanted desperately for her daughter to be a better person than she was. 
As she made her way from the bedroom to Monica's kitchen, she looked over to see Monica and John sound asleep on the couch. Both were fully clothed, lying on their sides, nestled against each other. He had one arm folded under his head, the other wrapped around Monica's waist. One long leg was lying across hers and he was snoring quietly. 

Enriqueta's eyes filled with tears as she saw the look of peace on her daughter's sleeping face. She turned as Andy came out of the bedroom, she placed her finger against her lips, then pointed to the sofa. He came up behind her and spoke softly to her. 

"Hmmpf, I'm not so sure that's the scene I want to see when I visit my unmarried daughter," he grumbled. 

"Hush. Can't you see how happy she looks? Didn't you notice that last night? She loves him, Andy, and he loves her. Maybe, maybe at last she'll find whatever she's looking for. If I knew she was finally settled, I would die content." 

"You're not going to die!", Andy said gruffly. "You are NOT! Do you understand me?" 

"You don't know that, Andy. No one does. But, I do know that I'm going to make the best of whatever time I have left, whether it's one year, or ten, or twenty. And I want to make sure that includes enjoying every moment I can with ALL my children." She leaned back against him, and he wrapped his arms around her. "And you, mi amor." 

Their soft voices must have disturbed the sleeping couple, for at that moment, Monica raised her head and stretched slightly. She looked back over her shoulder to see John's face burrowing into her shoulder. She smiled slightly and reached back to pat his head when she saw her parents standing in the kitchen. 

Startled, she tried to shake John awake. Instead of rousing him from sleep, it made him tighten his grip on her body and mutter incoherently. 

"John, John," she said as she shook him harder. "It's my parents, John. Wake up!" 

Her mother tried to silence her, but in the gray light of dawn, she must have missed the signal. 

"John!", she said more urgently, punching him with her elbow. 

"Mmmm, mmm, what? What?" 

"Let go of me, John!" 

He slowly and groggily released her, and as she swung her legs to the floor, he sat up. 

"What time is it?", he asked as he rubbed his face. 

"Time to get up and smell the coffee," boomed Andy. 

Instantly, John jumped to his feet, running his hand over the top of his head. 

"Sir! I'm...I'm sorry. I..uh..I guess we fell asleep. I mean, I..." 

"John, our flight leaves at noon, how soon should we leave for the airport?", asked Andy as Enriqueta started back to the kitchen. He reached out and patted her butt as she moved away from him. "These are good women, John, don't you agree?" He motioned for John to sit back down. Monica stood uncertainly, then decided to leave John to his fate. She went to her bathroom to brush her teeth and comb her hair. 

"Uh, yes, sir, I guess they are." John watched helplessly as she closed the door to the bathroom. 

"You *guess*? You don't know?", teased Andy. He called out to his wife, "Rikki, what makes you think this is the right man for our daughter? He's not sure if she's a good woman. I think we might have a problem here." 

"Aie, Andy, be quiet," she admonished. "You'll have the poor man running away. He's the right one for her, trust me. Now, what do you want for breakfast?" 

Andy turned back to John, his face serious. "Can I entrust my daughter to you, John? She's very special, and I don't want to think that I'm leaving her here without someone she can depend on. I know, I know," he said clicking his tongue and flapping his hand, "she's a grown woman. A Federal agent. She can handle herself. But, John, to me, she's still my little girl. And I want to make sure she's...safe. Protected. Loved." 

He grinned at John, his eyes shiny. "Not very politically correct of me, is it? It's a father's perogative, not to be politically correct when it comes to his daughters. Especially when I know how strong Monica is. She's just like her mother, in that respect. You'll never find anyone with more courage, and more...strength than that woman in there. She has been the foundation on which we've all built our lives. I've been blessed, I've been blessed," he said, nodding his head. "And now, to think that I need to be strong for her...", he quickly shook his head, "I hope I don't fail her." 

"You won't, sir," said John. "And you don't have to worry about Monica. I'll do everything in my power to take care of her, whether she wants it or not. I'll just have to make sure she doesn't catch me at it." The two men chuckled, knowing there'd be hell to pay if Monica ever knew they thought she needed watching over.

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