August 6, 1999

Brian shot a glance over to the small couch in the corner where Jim and Trixie were quietly conversing.  He hoped his best friend was talking some sense into his sister.

He instantly felt ashamed for thinking that.  Trixie was a grown woman, a trained government agent.  She wasn’t about to run off on some hare-brained adventure like she had when she was a teenager.  This was a genuine assignment for her legitimate career, and he should be proud that she had been asked to go along.  And then he realized that he was proud, and that he should probably tell her that.

“Brian, your turn.  A noun,” Diana said.

“Onesies,” Brian said with a smirk.  Honey had cooed giddily over each of the seemingly dozens of onesies she had opened so far.  How many of those did a baby seriously need?  He gave his wife a kiss and went over to join Jim and Trixie, as Tad offered “smooch” as his verb for Diana’s Mad Libs game, and then offered one for her.  “So, what’re our esteemed co-presidents up to?  Planning another Bob-White fundraiser?”

Jim looked up, a tiny flicker of anxiety quickly replaced by a relaxed grin to assure his friend that all was well.  “Trix was just telling me about her trip to Beijing.”

“Hard to believe our little girl is going off into the big, bad world all on her own, isn’t it?” Brian replied cheekily.

“I’m surprised you two haven’t been giving me any grief about it,” Trixie replied, batting her eyelashes innocently.

“As long as you don’t go digging up any mysteries while you’re there, I think we’ll be okay,” Brian said.

“I think she’s going to be too busy for that,” Jim put in.

“Oh, so that’s it?  We didn’t keep her busy enough all those years ago when she was turning our hair prematurely gray.”

Trixie crossed her arms over her chest and scowled.  “You guys had just as much fun as Honey and I did, and you know it.”

“Sometimes,” Jim agreed cautiously.  He seemed to think it over for a moment before deciding, “Virginia was fun.”

“Cobbett’s Island was fun,” Brian added, a faraway look in his dark eyes.

“Arizona was fun,” Jim said, flashing Brian an evil grin.

“You two!” Trixie exclaimed.  “You only had fun when you were kissing girls or bossing girls around, is that it?”

“Well, we are men,” Brian confessed with a caveman grunt, which Jim echoed.

“So, if I ask Mart, he’ll say he had the most fun in Vermont, despite—or perhaps because of—the avalanche.  And if I ask Dan...” she got a wicked glint in her eye as she finished, “...he’ll say he had the most fun at Pirate’s Point.”

Brian narrowed his eyes slightly, not missing the fact that Jim did the same thing, despite no longer having the privilege of being a jealous boyfriend.  “And which one of you girls was Dan kissing in the Catskills?”

Standing up slowly and fluffing her curls in a deliberately coy manner, she smiled and said, “I’ll never tell.”

Diana called out, “Trix, I need a mode of transportation.”

“A ghostly galleon.”  She winked at Brian and Jim and said, “I’m going to go play Mad Libs.”

Brian looked at Jim, who simply shrugged and said, “You’re married to Honey now, and Dan’s almost married to Trixie.  What’s past is past.”

“And it’s not killing you not knowing?”

Jim grinned.  “Sure it is.  We’ll get Dan drunk at his bachelor party and worm it out of him.”

“Worm what out of whom?” Honey asked as she came up to join them, having been given a reprieve from opening gifts.

“Oh, nothing,” Brian said casually, with a surreptitious wink at Jim.  “Just man stuff.”

A chorus of laughter came the group listening to Diana as she finished reading the Mad Libs story.  “And Trixie and Dan lived happily ever after ... in an igloo.”

Jim slid over on the couch and patted the cushion next to him.  “Why don’t you take a load off, sis?”

Honey sank down gratefully next to him.  “Thank you, honorable brother.”

Putting his arm around her, he asked, “So how are things going with my little niece or nephew?”

Honey rested her head wearily on his shoulder.  “Oh, fine.  I’m tired all the time, but I guess that’s to be expected.  And my ankles are huge.”

“You just think that because they were so small to begin with,” Brian reassured her, giving Jim a gentle roll of his eyes.

In answer, she stuck her legs straight out so Jim could see them.  “What do you think?”

“Grapefruit with toes,” he said without hesitation, causing Honey to slap his hand, even as she giggled self-consciously.

“Thanks, Jim,” Brian said dryly.  “You’re a big help.  Almost as much as Mart, who was tactless enough to ask why she wasn’t wearing her rings.”

Jim picked up Honey’s hand and looked questioningly at her, trying not to ask the same question.  Brian was relieved to see that Honey didn’t look like she was about to burst into tears this time, unlike when Mart had asked.  She simply sighed and wiggled her fingers.  “Too swollen.  It felt like my rings were going to cut my finger right off.  I really am way too fat for five and a half months, in my opinion.”

Brian furrowed his brow slightly.  He didn’t want to go all know-it-all first-year resident on her, but she was gaining weight a bit too quickly for comfort.  He knew she was eating right and still getting some moderate exercise, so it had to be something else.  He mentally ran through the possibilities in his head, trying hard not to fall from know-it-all first-year resident to anxious hypochondriac first-time father.  Honey had a check-up on Monday and he was definitely going to make sure she asked Dr. Jeffries about it.

“Brian?”

Brian started out of his reverie and looked askance at his wife.

“I was just going to ask Jim about…”  She smiled knowingly at him.

Brian grinned back at her and nodded.  It was so nice to be back in sync with her.  He sat down on the ottoman Trixie had abandoned and took Honey’s swollen feet into his lap for a gentle massage.  Fixing his gaze on his best friend, he said, “Honey and I would like you to be our baby’s godfather.”

Jim smiled broadly.  “That sounds like an offer I can’t refuse.”

Brian and Honey both winced, but Honey also had to cover her mouth to smother a giggle.

“You’re my best friend and Honey’s brother.  It seemed like a natural fit.”

“Well, I accept, thank you.  I’m very honored.  Does this mean Trixie will be the godmother?”

“Actually, we thought Trixie and Dan would like to be godparents together, so we’ll give them a chance in the future,” Honey responded.  “We asked Margery.”

“Trask.  Miss Trask.”  Jim nodded thoughtfully.  “My dear little sister, the revered Margery Trask is a perfectly perfect choice.  Positively inspired.”

“Well, she wasn’t our first choice,” Honey confessed, gazing steadily at her brother.  “We thought about asking Renee, but you two haven’t made any mention of any future plans, even though you’ve been dating for almost a year now, and we didn’t want her to feel pressured or anything.”

“Good thinking,” Jim admitted, and Brian wondered fleetingly just who was feeling pressured in that relationship.

“And then we asked Hallie, but she turned us down,” Honey continued with a frown.

“She did?  Why?”

Honey shrugged weakly.  “She was kind of vague about it.  She said it’s a big responsibility—which it is—and that a lot of people don’t take it very seriously—which is true—but that she wanted to—which is good—and she didn’t feel like she would make a very good godmother at this point in her life.”

“We’ll give her another chance in the future too,” Brian said, giving his wife a reassuring pat on the knee.

“I hope you two rabbits won’t run out of godparents,” Jim said, arching one eyebrow in mock judgment.

“I can’t believe I’m getting the what for from a single man at a baby shower,” Brian growled teasingly.

“It happens to be my best friend’s baby shower.”

In mock horror, Brian leaned backward and raised one hand in protest.  “No, no.  It’s Honey’s baby shower.  I’m just here to record the events for posterity.”  He picked up the small video camera he had laid next to the ottoman to make his point.

At an eruption of girlish giggles from behind them, Jim looked over Brian’s shoulder and said with a chuckle, “Well, there’s an event that’s just begging for some posterity.”

They looked over to where Mart was gleefully aiming a spoonful of baby food toward Dan’s mouth as he made persuasive baby talk to his best friend.  Brian let out a deep and sinister laugh and stood, holding out his hand to Honey.  Waggling his eyebrows, he asked, “Shall we go gather some future blackmail material, sweetheart?”

***

August 9, 1999

The sight of a doctor hurrying down a hospital hallway certainly wasn’t cause for any undue alarm.  Other than a few visitors he passed on his way, nobody even turned to stare.  But Brian Belden—Dr. Belden—wasn’t rushing to an emergency, he was late.

Being a resident in and of itself was bad enough without also being a newlywed and a first-time father-to-be at the same time.  He had missed more than one of Honey’s prenatal appointments and even though she was more than understanding about his schedule, he still felt guilty about it.  He wasn’t going to miss this one.

He had been tied up in the emergency room during her last monthly appointment and that, unfortunately, had been the one with the ultrasound.  Even though Honey had brought home a videotape that they had watched together, it just wasn’t the same.  Dr. Jeffries had been generous enough to schedule an ultrasound for this visit as well.  She said she had a couple of OB residents who would jump at the chance to practice doing one, as long as that wouldn’t make Honey uncomfortable.  She wasn’t at all.  In fact, she was thrilled that Brian was getting a second chance to witness it “live”.

He wasn’t going to miss this one.

“Hello, Dr. Belden,” the receptionist greeted with a warm, if automatic, smile.  “You can go right in.  Exam Two.”

He nodded his thanks without breaking his stride and continued on to the examination room.  He paused and knocked softly, entering when he heard his wife’s voice calling him in.  Grinning puckishly, he said, “Nice tack.”

“What?” Honey asked with a bewildered smile.

He nodded toward the stirrups located at the foot of the examination table.  “And you thought you wouldn’t get to do any riding this summer.”  As his wife giggled self-consciously, he asked, “Did I miss it?”

“No,” Honey replied with a small—somewhat nervous, he thought—smile.  “She did everything else first.  But she has been out of the room for a while.”

Brian smiled indulgently at his wife.  “And that’s making you a little anxious?”

She flushed and nodded.  “You know me too well, Dr. Belden.”

He crossed to her and took her hand, brushing his lips across her fingertips.  “Well, I’m here now,” he murmured soothingly.

“And that makes everything all right, how?” she teased.

“Because I know what you were really anxious about was the possibility of me missing another appointment and another ultrasound.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed contentedly.  “I’m glad you’re here.”

Dr. Jeffries came in a few minutes later.  Her expression was somber as she entered, and she seemed relieved that Brian had arrived.  She shook his hand and said hello as Honey asked if she was going to do the ultrasound now.

“Honey, Brian, there’s something else we need to discuss.”  She opened the patient file in her hands and studied it with a furrowed brow.

Brian felt a quick clenching in his stomach and another on his hand where Honey’s fingers pressed tightly against his.

“I’m afraid you have preeclampsia.”  She looked into Honey’s eyes to determine if she knew what she was talking about.

“How serious is it?” Honey asked timidly.  She and Brian had done their homework—somewhat of a crash course, as they hadn’t expected to be pregnant so soon—and despite the gravity of the situation, he was proud of her for remembering her lessons and reacting calmly.

Unconsciously, he tuned out Dr. Jeffries’ layman’s explanation to his wife as he tried to recall all he knew, as a doctor, about preeclampsia.

Preeclampsia—or pregnancy-induced hypertension—was characterized by high blood pressure and excess protein in the urine.  It wasn’t an uncommon condition for first-time mothers.  Thankfully, that was the only risk factor Honey had.  She was not obese and had no history of high blood pressure.  She wasn’t over the age of 35 and her ultrasound hadn’t indicated multiple pregnancies.  However, he was chagrined to realize that he didn’t know the details of her family history.  He knew Madeleine Wheeler had had a very difficult pregnancy, which is why Honey was her only natural-born child, but he didn’t know the specifics of the issues she had experienced.

He also knew that preeclampsia normally becomes evident in a woman’s third trimester.  Honey was still a few weeks shy of that milestone, which was both good and bad.  Good, because they had caught it early and could take all necessary precautions to ensure the health and well-being of both her and the baby.  Bad, because the earlier preeclampsia develops, the higher the risk of a premature delivery or more serious complications.  He also recalled reading one study that indicated a higher risk of reoccurrence in subsequent pregnancies the earlier the condition had appeared.  He and Honey wanted a big family and he knew this would weigh heavily on his mind.  He hoped to keep that information from his wife as long as possible.  And for now, he’d push it aside all together—Honey and this baby were first and foremost on his mind.  They’d cross other bridges as they came to them—this bridge was plenty big enough to navigate on its own.

“Bed rest!” Honey exclaimed in dismay.  “How long?”

“Because you’re not yet in your third trimester,” Dr. Jeffries said patiently, “I’m afraid your situation is fairly serious.  We need to do what we can to keep your blood pressure at a manageable level, and that means no work, no stress, and no serious physical activity.  How long will depend on how you and the baby are progressing and if there are any serious changes in your symptoms.  For now, I’ll want to see you two or three times a week to monitor your symptoms, and I’m putting you on bed rest for the next month.  You can get up to use the bathroom and take short showers.  Otherwise, you’re to stay in bed.”

“A month?” Honey squeaked, managing to sound both frightened and indignant at the same time.  “My best friend is getting married in three weeks.  I have so much to do before then.  I’m the maid of honor.”

“Not anymore, you’re not,” Dr. Jeffries said firmly.

Instantly, her hazel eyes filled with tears and Brian heard her choke back a sob.  As a husband, he wanted to get in Dr. Jeffries’ face for breaking Honey’s heart, but as a doctor, he knew a firm line was needed in a situation that could easily go from manageable to life-threatening.

He rubbed her back in what he hoped was a soothing manner, drawing a long, slow, cleansing breath and hoping she was picking up on his actions and doing the same.  Turning to the doctor, he asked, “Can she attend the wedding, at least?”

Dr. Jeffries’ expression softened somewhat.  After a long pause, she directed her answer to Honey.  “If you follow my directions to the letter and your condition doesn’t worsen before then and you promise to stay off your feet as much as possible—which means no dancing—then I’ll let you go to the wedding.  But you’re not to do any more work on the wedding.  No more stress.”

Brian tried hard not to laugh in the face of the serious conversation.  “No stress and my sister are not compatible phrases, I’m afraid.”  His dark eyes twinkled as he winked at Honey, and she couldn’t help smiling through her tears.

***

August 14, 1999

“You sure you don’t want me to help you upstairs?”

“’Course not,” Brian slurred with a wave of his hand.  “Why?”

Simon Drake grinned devilishly, his blue eyes bright with amusement.  “Well, for one thing, you’re using your car key to try to open the security door.”

Brian looked at the key in his hand.  “Damn.”  He chose another key and held it up to Simon.  “Know what this one’s for?  This here’s a special key.  ‘S for the park.  Not just anybody can get inta the park, ya see.  I can though, ‘cuz I’m married to a Wheeler.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Simon answered patiently.

“Can’t.  No more Wheelers left to marry.”  He looked up at the two Dr. Drakes in front of his bleary eyes.  “I never get drunk,” he assured both of them.

“Never say never, Dr. Belden,” Simon replied, pulling the key ring from Brian’s hand and trying to find the correct key for the door.

“Surusly—shurish—seerlis—no, really, I don’t.  I’m Boring Brian.  I’m responsible Dr. Belden.  I’m a husband, and I’m gonna be a father, too.”  Draping his arm around Simon’s shoulders, he whispered in a conspiratorial manner, “Didja know Honey’s preggers?”

“You may have mentioned it once or twice,” Simon answered, getting the front door open at last and supporting Brian as they moved inside.  “Which floor?”

Brian stared groggily down at the polished black and white art deco tile at his feet.  “There’s one.”

“This doesn’t look like the kind of place where they’d appreciate finding a drunken tenant camping out in the lobby.”

“Mark Carstairs bathed here.”

“Who?”

“Former tenant.  Doorman found him in the fountain out in the courtyard, naked as the day he was born ... except for the shower cap.”

Simon chuckled.  “I take it he doesn’t live here anymore?”

“Nope.  Moved to Disneyland, I think.”

“What’s your apartment number?”

Brian couldn’t remember his apartment number, but he didn’t want Simon to know that.  He changed the subject, hoping Simon would forget about it.  “Tha’ wuz a fun party, huh?”

“Yeah, I love watching people I barely know get drunk.  Will your doorman know which apartment you’re in?”

“Doorman’s not on duty affer midnight.  Didja know my sister thought he was a spy?”

“Your doorman?”  Simon looked highly doubtful.  “Why?”

“Trix thinks everbuddy’s a spy.  She said he looked ‘suspicious’.”  He tried to make air quotes, but couldn’t maintain his balance and fell up against Simon.

Simon leaned Brian up against the wall and began skimming the names on the mailboxes for the Beldens’ apartment.

“Not everbuddy wuz drunk at that party,” Brian contemplated.  “Dan din get drunk.”

“Guest of honor at his own bachelor party doesn’t get drunk?  What’s up with that?”

Brian waved nonchalantly.  “Danny’s gotta troubled past.”

Having apparently figured out where Brian and Honey lived, Simon came back to retrieve his charge.  “He an alcoholic?”

“Dan?  Nah.  But his stepfather wuz.  You an alkacolic?”

Simon grinned at him. “Nope.”

“How ‘bout your stepfather?”

“I don’t have a stepfather.”

“Then how come you din get drunk?”

“I’ve got surgery tomorrow.”  Glancing at his watch, he amended, “Or today, actually.”

“Don’t wanna be drunk for that,” Brian agreed fervently as he stumbled along with Simon to the elevator.  It was already open and as they stepped aboard, Brian leaned over and hit the button marked “9”.  At least he remembered what floor he lived on.  Hopefully, Simon knew which apartment it was.  The light stayed dark.  Brian hit it again.  Nothing.  He poked it a few more times with increasing bewilderment but no results.

“I think they’re activated by body heat,” Simon said, leaning over to touch the button.  It lit up without hesitation and the doors closed.

“I got body heat,” Brian grumbled.  “You think ‘cuz my wife’s on bed rest and we can’t have sex ‘til friggin’ January that I don’t got no body heat?  I got heat, baby!”  He vigorously rubbed his hands up and down his rumpled shirt before sliding them down the buttons, lighting up the control panel like a Broadway marquee.

Simon rolled his eyes and leaned back against the wall of the elevator.  “Well, make yourself comfortable, Doc.  We’re taking the long way home, now.”

Brian responded by slumping down to the floor.  Solemnly, he said, “I’m not mad at Honey, you unnerstan’.  S’not her fault she’s sick.  Not her fault she’s pregnant.  I’m not even mad about the sex.  It’s just that everythin’s kinda ... messed up.  Off kilter.  Outta order.  I’m ‘sposed to finish my residency first.  Then we’ll celebrate with a secon’ honeymoon in ‘Ruba.  Then we’ll have kids.  First a boy, then a girl.  Boy, girl, boy, girl, ‘til we have enough, ‘bout three years apart, each one.  Ya think I’m OCD?”

Simon shrugged.  “Not really.  I’m not so sure about Jim Frayne, though.”

Brian managed a lazy grin.  “Didja see him linin’ up all the empty beer bottles on the counter?”

“With a precision I’d never have thought possible for someone that inebriated.  Have to give him credit for that.”

“Somethin’s botherin’ him,” Brian slurred.  “He dunt get drunk neither.  Gotta find out wha’s wrong.”

“One head case at a time, please,” Simon said evenly.  “Do you think maybe the reason you’re upset that things are so out of whack is not because you want it all ordered, but because you feel like you’re somehow being irresponsible if you can’t make things right?”

“Whadaya mean?  Din you hear me say how responsible I am?  Everbuddy knows it.  Responsible Brian Belden.  Responsible Dr. Belden.  The responsible Belden boy.”

“Shut up, Belden.  Listen to me.”

Brian stared with an unfocused gaze as the elevator door opened on the fourth floor, waited for nobody to get on or off, then closed again and proceeded with its slow climb upward.  Fascinating.

“Your sister’s in China and you can’t do anything to protect her.  She’ll be married in a few weeks, and then Dan will the one responsible for her.  Your brother’s four hours away in Indian Lake—and we all know how irresponsible he is.”  Brian glowered at him, and Simon grinned to show he was just teasing.  “Your best friend is brooding about something and you don’t know what it is, therefore, you can’t help him either.  Then there’s this girl ... runaway ... prostitute from India that you can’t help—”

“She’s not from India.  Her name’s India,” Brian said scornfully.

“Really?  Weird name.  Anyway, you can’t help her and that’s bugging you.  Your wife got pregnant, despite your conscientious birth control measures, and now she’s sick and you can’t do anything about that either.  Sounds to me like you’re struggling with the whole responsibility thing these days.  You’re a doctor and you can’t fix anything or anybody.  It’s enough to drive a man to drink.”

“Simon’s not such a great name,” Brian mumbled.  “Simple Simon met a pie man.  Simon Says.  Simon Legree.  Not such a great name.”

Simon shrugged.  “I have three older brothers.  They took all the good ‘S’ names.”

“Whassa matter with Steven?  Or Scott?”

“Shut up, Belden.”

Brian thought about what Simon had said.  Maybe he had a point.  A stray lock of his thick wavy hair fell over his eyes as he squinted up at the towering blond doctor.  “You a psychiatrist?”

Simon smiled broadly.  “Nope.  Psychiatry isn’t big enough for my ego.  I’m just very, very astute.”

They finally arrived at the ninth floor and Simon reached down to give Brian a hand up.  “Shoulda been a shrink,” Brian told him as he lurched to his feet and moved out of the elevator and down the hall to his apartment.  He fumbled with the key ring, put a key in the lock, turned it and heard the deadbolt slide back to welcome him home.  “First try,” he said with a smug grin.

“Home again, home again.  Why don’t you go inside and give your pretty wife a kiss and go to sleep?  Maybe you can dream about having mind-boggling sex with her while you sleep off your drunken self-pity.”

“Yeah,” Brian answered unenthusiastically as the smile slid off his face.

Simon studied him carefully for a moment, then said, “You know, I had this professor in college.  Great guy, smart as hell.  He told our class that there would come a day—during med school or maybe while we were doing our residencies—when we’d realize that we couldn’t actually save the world.  He said it would be a huge burden off our shoulders and that from that day on, things would be easier.”

Giving Brian a big-brotherly pat on the back, he turned back to the elevator.  “Don’t lose your idealism.  Just add a healthy dose of reality to the mix.  It will get easier, Dr. Brian.  I promise.”

“Simon?”  Brian walked unsteadily up the hallway to the elevator and peeked in at the third-year resident.  “When did you realize it?  That you couldn’t save the world?”

His smile was blindingly arrogant, his wink cocky.  “I’m a surgeon.  I can save anybody they bring into my operating room.”

Grinning back at him, Brian said, “So it hasn’t happened yet?”

“Shut up, Belden.  Go have lewd dreams about your wife.  Or one of the nurses at the hospital.  Or maybe that stripper that came by Mangan’s place tonight.”

“Wife sounds good.”

“Great, then I’ll have lewd dreams about the stripper.”  Digging into his pocket, he pulled out a business card and said jauntily, “Or maybe I’ll just give her a call.”

As the elevator doors eased shut, Brian snarled good-naturedly, “Shut up, Drake.”

***

August 16, 1999

“Hi!  Where’s Honey?” Trixie chirped, standing on her tiptoes to give her oldest brother a peck on the cheek, as her arms were too full for a proper Belden hug.

“She’s in the bedroom.  Did you bring lunch?”

“Yes,” Diana replied, giving him a kiss on his other cheek.  “But we didn’t know you were going to be here,” she added with a chagrined look on her face.

“That’s okay.  He can share my sandwich, if he wants,” Trixie called over her shoulder, already halfway down the hallway.

Brian chuckled and shook his head.  “Hasn’t she ever heard of jet lag?  How can she possibly have so much energy after flying across twelve time zones?”

“She’ll crash and burn sooner or later,” Diana promised with a grin.  “I’m just trying to help her with some last minute wedding things while she’s still on her feet.”

Brian took a couple of her bags for her and followed her up the hall to the bedroom, where Trixie had already unceremoniously dumped her bags on the floor and was perched on the edge of the bed, chattering away to her best friend.

Honey looked almost overwhelmed with joyful relief as Diana leaned over to give her a warm embrace.  Brian knew his wife was very glad to see her friends.  She was already bored silly by her mandatory inactivity.  It had only been a week and he wasn’t sure what was going to happen next if she was prescribed bed rest for the remainder of her pregnancy.

“What did you buy?” she asked politely.

“Well, first and most importantly, lunch,” Trixie said.  She handed her best friend a brown paper bag.  “Chef salad—fresh veggies, low sodium, just what the doctor ordered.  I also got you some yogurt—Harvest Peach, your favorite.  And to balance out all that nauseating health food, I also got you a vanilla milkshake.”

Honey smiled as she pulled out the large salad and settled it on her stomach.  “I don’t even need a breakfast tray,” she said, her brief moan of dismay turning into a giggle at the comical picture she presented.

As she opened her yogurt, Diana said, “Ooh, give me the lid.  My friend Ronda in Washington is collecting them.”

“She collects yogurt lids?” Brian asked.  “Does she have some kind of weird fetish?”

All three girls laughed, and Diana answered, “It’s for a good cause.”  She settled herself at the foot of the bed and pulled out her club sandwich.  “Trixie may think food is most important, but I can’t wait until you see the peignoir set she bought for her wedding night.  It’s simply divine.  Dan will be drooling all over himself when he sees her in it.”

“What’s the point of sexy lingerie if it’s just going to be ripped off two minutes after I put it on?” Trixie garbled, her mouth full of Philly cheesesteak.

“My baby sister,” Brian remarked dryly, leaning over her shoulder to grab a handful of fries.

“Are you sure you’re going to fit into your wedding night lingerie?” Honey teased.

Trixie made a face at her.  “If I don’t, I’ll just wear your maid of honor dress.”

Honey laughed, but her face quickly clouded over and she had to fight back tears as she poked unenthusiastically at her salad.  Brian’s heart went out to her.  He hoped Diana and Trixie could cheer her up.  Every time he opened his mouth lately, nothing but medical advice and husbandly concern poured forth.  She had felt smothered and had reacted by snapping at him several times over the last couple of days.  The enforced bed rest was definitely taking a toll on her sweet disposition.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” Trixie asked.

“I can’t be your maid of honor,” Honey wailed.  “I can’t walk down the aisle or stand by your side or dance or anything!  I’ll be lucky if Dr. Jeffries even lets me go!”

Trixie put down her sandwich and slid over close to Honey’s side, taking her hand and squeezing it tightly.  “Of course, you’ll get to come to the wedding.  You’ve been as good as gold all week and nothing has changed, right?”  She darted a glance at her brother, who shrugged slightly and wisely stayed out of the conversation.

Honey sniffled and nodded, and Trixie continued.  “Anyway, Diana and I were talking about it while we shopped.”  Glancing hesitantly at her dark-haired friend she said, “We thought if Diana was my maid of honor, then you wouldn’t have to worry about a thing and—”

Honey burst into tears in earnest this time, and Diana quickly abandoned her lunch to join her two friends and take both their hands.  “Listen, Honey.  It’ll all be perfectly perfect.  I asked Tad if he was upset not to be Dan’s best man and he said the three of them had a round robin thing all worked out.  Mart is Dan’s best man, then Tad will be Mart’s best man, and Dan will be Tad’s best man.  We can do the same thing, and then everybody will get a turn.”

“That’s right,” Trixie agreed.  “I’ve already been your maid of honor, now Diana will be mine, and you’ll be Diana’s.”

Honey sopped up her tears with a napkin and said, “But I’ve been doing all this work for your wedding for months already, and Diana didn’t get to do any of that.”

Diana waved her elegantly manicured hand dismissively.  “Oh, please!  You did a fabulous job and besides, you put up with Trixie’s bullheaded nonsense better than I ever could.”

“Hey!” Trixie protested, but her blue eyes twinkled as she feigned her irritation, and she snuck a wink at Brian, who smiled gratefully back.

Diana continued on unabated.  “And just think, when I get married, you’ll have so much more fun.  My parents will be sure to throw me the most extravagantly lavish wedding ever and I’m into all those girly, frilly things that Trixie spurns.  You’ll be able to fuss over me to your heart’s content without having to listen to any grumbling.”

“Hey!” Trixie said again, a little more forcefully this time.

“When you help me plan my wedding, I can almost assure you I won’t be in government training, learning to shoot firearms, for heaven’s sake!  And I have no problems distinguishing the subtle differences between lavender, lilac, orchid, indigo, and plum, like other people might.”

“Hey!”

Honey giggled, wiped away her tears, and joined in, dramatically pining, “Oh, Diana!  If you only knew!  She didn’t know about embossing or thermography or anything!  I thought for sure she was going to end up calling all her family and friends the night before the wedding and saying, ‘Hey, Dan and I are getting hitched tomorrow.  Wanna come watch?’”

Trixie crossed her arms over her chest and scowled.  “When did it become tradition to heap abuse upon the bride?  I haven’t been that bad!"

Brian quietly left the room as the teasing banter continued.  Four years of medical school took a backseat as two of Honey's dearest friends gave her the best medicine available.