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Date Posted: 08:08:40 03/26/03 Wed
Author: dqfan
Subject: Re: Say the Words - ch.43
In reply to: dqfan 's message, "Re: Say the Words - ch.42" on 08:04:48 03/26/03 Wed

CHAPTER FORTY THREE


Over the next few days, Sophie trained harder than she had for anything in her life. She had to be ready. No, more than that, she had to be perfect.

Her regimen was simple: wake every morning before dawn and set out for two hours of intense power walking. Normally, Sophie would have jogged to improve her stamina, but she couldn't afford the additional pressure on her ankle - the idea was to strengthen it, not re-injure it.

By seven a.m., each day, as always, she could be found at work at Mount Horizon. Sophie couldn't afford for anyone to notice anything out of the ordinary in her behavior. However, if during the day, the chance arose for her to lead a hike or demonstrate a particular move on the obstacle course, Sophie was more than willing to oblige. Lunch hours were spent in the workout shed, where, diligently, Sophie performed the weight-bearing exercises Dr. Burke had recommended to strengthen her leg muscles.

Meanwhile, in whatever spare time she had, Sophie continued to instruct Peter on the fine art of parachuting. Together, they made sure Alexander's every order was carried out to the letter. Their intimate rapport made them the perfect team; and, selfishly, for Sophie, it was the perfect cover.

Alexander was amazed at their dedication. Patiently, Sophie would explain the nuances of each jump or procedure, quietly refreshing her memory as she evaluated Peter's work. He showed a real aptitude for the sport and was improving steadily with each lesson. Anxious to earn Sophie's approval, Peter never once considered that she might have ulterior motives.

When the lessons were over, Sophie would always find some excuse to return to the hangar, ostensibly in preparation for Alexander's big day. Alone in the warehouse that first night, Sophie felt a twinge of panic. "Never jump alone" was the first rule of skydiving. It was as inviolate a tenent as "never swim alone" and Sophie was about to break it. Soothingly, she reminded herself that this was simply a practice jump in a controlled environment. What better way to begin?

Sophie's first jump from atop the metal stairway into the inflatable air mattress below was a huge triumph for her. There hadn't been even a stitch of pain in her ankle upon impact. She was positively ecstatic. After so much effort, her first jump in months had been…effortless. She could do this!

As Peter's lessons progressed, so did Sophie's confidence in her abilities. Privately and cautiously, she increased her workouts and began testing her ankle with higher jumps, first inside the hangar and then outdoors. Her successful, yet daring, five a.m. jump from atop the Morgan's Field grandstand drew the astonished stares of several inebriated derelicts, who wisely chose to attribute her escapade to severe alcoholic delusions.

All the while, Sophie's timetable was proceeding as planned and no one appeared the wiser. Sometimes, it seemed impossible to her that Peter didn't suspect. Sometimes, Sophie almost wished that he would. This plan was so important to her that, in many ways, Sophie ached for the opportunity to share it with the man she loved. Nothing would have made her happier than for Peter to share her thrill as her body grew stronger, her mind more focused, and her skills more honed. His support would have meant the world to her.

But Sophie knew Peter, just as well as she knew her father. Neither man in her life would ever let her get within ten feet of that air show if they guessed what she intended. No, she had to keep her plans to herself for now. The element of surprise was key.

With the performance only days away, Sophie's exercises took on paramount importance - such importance, in fact, that, for once, she lost track of the time as she trained.

It was almost 2:30 in the afternoon when Peter approached the workout shed in search of his wayward counselor. From outside the door, he could hear Sophie loudly counting each repetition as she lifted the weight she held balanced between her legs.

Quietly, Peter snuck up and over her as she reclined on the bench in her usual garb of sports bra and biker shorts.

"Hi…" he peered mischievously, staring at her upside-down. "Forget we had group?"

Startled, Sophie lost her concentration and the weight fell to the floor with a thud.

"Peter!" she snapped in surprise. "Don't sneak up on me like that…"

"Sorry…here…let me get that for you," Peter offered sheepishly as he returned the weight to its support bar.

"So, what's with all the exercise?" he asked lightly, swinging her legs to the side of the bench so he could sit beside her.

Sophie sat up and reached for her towel. If she'd been hoping for a chance to tell him, this was it. Casually, she mopped the sweat from her brow, and then her neck and shoulders, stealing a few extra moments to decide.

"Nothing…" Nervously, she continued her deception, fearing his reaction to the truth.

"Just tryin' to get in shape for the wedding…." The clever lie popped out of Sophie's mouth with amazing ease.

With no reason to think otherwise, Peter accepted Sophie's explanation quite readily - grinning, in fact, over her efforts.

"I like your shape just fine right now," he whispered, taking the towel from her hand. Seductively, he dabbed at a few stray drops of sweat, which were trickling over the tops of her breasts.

Sophie gulped and smiled. Peter wasn't helping her cool down at all.

"Well, I'm glad to hear it," she sighed, "but I need to fit into my dress."

Peter frowned as Sophie slid the towel from his grasp. Undeterred, he continued impishly, "So, tell me about this dress… What's it like? Lacy and lady-like…or…luxurious and low-cut?"

Peter's playfulness only accentuated Sophie's guilt. Uncomfortably, she rose from the bench and summoned all her courage to continue.

Taking a deep breath, she faced him with, what she hoped was, a cheerful smile and her most light-hearted voice.

"You will just have to wait and see, Mountain Man…" she scolded her wistful groom teasingly.

Then, fearing her façade about to crumble, Sophie turned on her heels and headed quickly for the shower before Peter's questions became any more complicated.

^^^^^^^^^^

It was the night before the air show, and Sophie was a bundle of nerves. Adrenaline, excitement, fear, and hesitation were all spinning inside her to form a volatile mix. Awkwardly, she'd rejected Peter's invitation to a special pre-show dinner, just the two of them. She'd never be able to sit calmly, let alone look him in the eyes for an entire evening.

There was so much at stake for her tomorrow: her health…her relationship. Sophie knew the risks. Now she had to be certain the odds were in her favor.
What she needed was a second opinion…

"Sophie, what are you doing here so late?" Stephanie greeted her unexpected patient. "I was just about to go home. We didn't have an appointment scheduled, did we? Are you in pain?"

"No, no, just the opposite," Sophie assured her doctor. "My ankle's been feeling great lately and I just wondered if I still needed to be so careful."

"And you want to know this now?" Stephanie raised an eyebrow at Sophie's rather odd explanation, but she could see Sophie was completely serious.

"All right, let's take a look..." she smiled indulgently, welcoming Sophie into the examination room.

A half an hour later, the results were in. "You are in amazing shape, Sophie," Stephanie complimented her, with a disbelieving shake of her head. "Your stress tests were off the charts and your flexibility has improved tremendously."

"So, I'm cured?" Sophie asked excitedly.

"Well, I usually reserve the word 'cured' for my sick patients," Stephanie laughed at Sophie's choice of words. "And you are definitely not sick."

"What I would say is that the ankle has healed nicely and you should stop worrying about it so much," Stephanie suggested.

"Often, I find patients drive themselves crazy wondering when and if they'll do something that might cause the injury to re-occur," Dr. Burke explained.

"And?" Sophie asked precipitously.

"And…there's no way of knowing," Stephanie admitted freely. "All I can say is, you've given the ankle a good foundation. Keep it up!"

"What about my sports? Skiing, motorbiking…skydiving?" Sophie wondered as nonchalantly as possible.

"Sophie…" Stephanie shook her head with a sigh, "There are some things that your doctor can't order. I know how much those activities mean to you. You're just going to have to take it one day at a time and decide for yourself what feels right. I trust you'll use your best judgment."

Sophie nodded meekly, trying not to show her disappointment. Couldn't Stephanie just have said "yes?"

As she left the doctor's office, Sophie couldn't help feeling suspiciously like one of her students. How often had the Cliffhangers grumbled when she and Peter expressed their confidence in them?

"We trust you to use your best judgment…" Her words were coming back to haunt her now. Woefully, Sophie realized just how little comfort that sentence provides when you're the one faced with the decision.

Making a mental note to herself never to use that annoying phrase again, Sophie headed towards Rusty's and a quiet dinner alone…

^^^^^^^^^^^

Peter sat on his front stoop, staring glumly into the night sky. His latest carving lay half-finished by his side.

Suddenly, the glare of a car's headlights came powerfully into view. Peter heard the bang of a door and his aunt's light-hearted laughter filled the air.

"Why, Mr. Markasian, I'm surprised at you…" Charity laughed wickedly.

Peter just shook his head at their playful repartee.

"Hey, Pete…" Frank grinned as he reached the porch, carrying a small bag of groceries. "Whatcha doin' out here?"

"Sophie turned me down for dinner," he shrugged. "Said she needed her rest."

"Well, she has been looking a little peaked this week," Charity commented, joining the conversation.

"That's 'cause she's been spending all of her time exercising lately," Peter grumbled.

"Oh, you know how brides are," Charity smiled. "They want to look perfect in their dresses…"

"That's what she said," Peter nodded, finding Charity's remark to be of slight comfort.

"Never get in the way of a bride on a diet, Pete…" Frank warned ominously, shuddering at the mere thought. "The week before our wedding, Maryellen ate nothing but cucumbers! Cucumbers for breakfast…cucumbers for lunch…"

"Okay, okay, I get the idea…" Peter chuckled, not needing to hear any more.

Obviously, he was making too much of this. It was just a nagging feeling he couldn't seem to shake - a feeling that there was more going on than he knew. He'd had that feeling, actually, ever since the night Sophie showed up two hours late for dinner and then begged him to hold her. She'd never told him why or what happened, and he hadn't wanted to press her, but Peter felt certain that somehow, some way, all of Sophie's actions were connected to that one day.

"You comin' in, Pete?" Frank asked blithely. "I promised Charity I'd make her my world famous hot chocolate for dessert…"

"No, thanks…" Peter patted Frank's arm gratefully. "Think I'll just sit out here a while…"

"Suit yourself…" Frank shrugged. "We'll save you some marshmallows."

With a furrowed brow, Peter returned half-heartedly to his carving, wishing marshmallows were all he needed right now…

^^^^^^^^^^^

"Is that cocoa, I smell?" Alexander entered Rusty's to find his daughter stretched lazily across two barchairs, pensively sipping her high-caloric indulgence.

"Hi Dad, would you like a cup?" Sophie offered, rising.

"No thanks, Honey," Alexander motioned for her to sit. "I just wanted to stop by…and say…"

Alexander paused and collected his thoughts. He'd rehearsed this speech over and over, on his walk from the hotel, but now that he was staring into his little girl's eyes, Alexander couldn't quite remember the words.

Almost shyly, he blurted the condensed version. "Well, I just wanted to say…thank you."

"Thank you?" Sophie was surprised and a little embarrassed. She hadn't exactly been the perfect daughter over the past few years. "For what?"

"For all the help you've given me, preparing for tomorrow - you and Peter, both. I really appreciate it, Honey," Alexander smiled lovingly. "I hadn't expected such a barebones operation and, well, you really helped your Old Man out, Sophie."

Unsuccessfully, Alexander tried to lighten his mood but his voice betrayed the deep hurt he'd experienced at the transfer of his squadron.

"We were happy to do it, Dad…" Sophie's assured him quietly as she recalled Charles' hurtful condemnation of Alexander's well-deserved celebration.

"Reminded me of the old days," she reminisced fondly, "when you'd give me my allowance for co-pilot services rendered."

Silently, Alexander and Sophie each took a moment to visualize their shared cherished memories of a proud father and his devoted young daughter, flying…laughing…jumping together, without a care in the world.

"Those were the best times in my life, Sophie," Alexander swallowed hard as his voice cracked with emotion.

"For me, too, Dad," Sophie agreed with tears in her eyes.

Then, optimistically she wiped them away with the back of her hand. "Who knows, maybe we could do it again sometime…" she suggested breezily.

"I'd like that, Honey," Alexander nodded, so wrapped up in his own introspection that he failed to notice the sparkle in his daughter's eye - the one that unfailingly meant trouble.

"Get some rest," Sophie rubbed her father's shoulder with tenderness. "You've got a big day tomorrow."

Alexander's melancholy began to lift under Sophie's affectionate care. Somehow, with all that had gone wrong in the past few weeks, one thing had definitely gone right - his relationship with his daughter was back on track. And it felt more wonderful than Alexander ever could have imagined.

"I'm going to need my crew ready bright and early tomorrow," he admonished Sophie with a chuckle and a very broad smile. "Don't forget!"

"Oh, don't worry, Dad," Sophie assured him with a smile just as bright.

"I'll be there…"

^^^^^^^^^^^

Sophie's room above the diner was bathed in moonlight when a cool breeze fell suddenly and softly over her bed.

With every intention of waking her, Michaela approached Sophie purposefully; but, before she could place her hand atop Sophie's shoulder, Michaela felt a strong tug on her own shoulder pull her back sharply.

"No, Michaela…" Sully reprimanded with unusual harshness. "No more talkin'. Sophie's made her decision."

"But, Sully," Michaela turned, pleading desperately with her husband. "It's not too late. I know I could persuade her…"

"'Chaela…" Sully's tone softened and Michaela felt her defenses weaken as he whispered her private nickname with love. "Whatever happens, we'll be there for 'em, ya know that, but we can't interfere once a decision's been made."

"Even if that decision is the worst one she could make?" Michaela's voice trailed as she wandered toward the open window, looking up into the heavens. The answer to her question, of course, had been written there, long ago; but still, she couldn't help wishing it were otherwise.

Aching from the pain this was causing her, Sully came up behind Michaela and wrapped his arms tightly around hers, joining her in grim contemplation.

"We don't know fer sure what'll happen…" he whispered softly in her ear, hoping to quell her brooding for a time.

"How can you say that, Sully?" Michaela asked sorrowfully, turning to him with tears in her eyes. "We know what happens…"

Michaela's words were cold and clinical, and her tone was as harsh as Sully's had been a moment earlier. "Sophie refractures her ankle upon landing," she reminded him bluntly, "and a blood clot forms, which travels undetected to her heart."

Sully closed his eyes and winced, anticipating Peter's agony as clearly as he'd lived his own with Abagail so many years ago. There was nothing quite so devastating as being the one left behind.

Clutching Michaela even more tightly against him, Sully held on desperately to the woman who would never leave him.

"The death certificate will list a pulmonary embolism as the official cause…" With unerring precision, Michaela finished reciting the medical findings in the case.

Sully brushed a tear from Michaela's cheek as he watched the doctor in her fade away and the loving grandmother reappear, broken-hearted. "If that's the way it's gotta be, Michaela…all we can do is accept it…"

"I'm a doctor, Sully. I can't accept death," she whispered as she rested her head weakly against his chest.

"But ya can't always beat it neither," Sully said softly as he ran his hands lightly across his wife's back to soothe her.

Slowly, his caresses lulled her and Michaela eased exhaustedly into the strength of his embrace. Unwilling to abandon her struggle entirely, Michaela curled protectively into Sully's warmth and, in muffled sighs, resolved defiantly, "I can try, Sully…I can try…"

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