Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Chapter Three

   I woke to an empty bed.  And a full bladder.  Oh, well, it was time to
see if this "I'm here to help" thing was real or not.  "Ronni," I called
softly.

   "I'm comin', Dave," she answered.  In a few seconds she showed up. 
Smiling.  "See!" she tittered, "We slept all night in the same bed and
didn't molest each other."

   "That's the miracle of oxycodone, babe," I said.  "How about helping me
to the bathroom?" Five minutes later I was finished and settling into my
recliner.

   "I just put a load of laundry on, and Mom's bringing over breakfast. 
I'm gonna go change."

   "Okay," I said.  I thought, 'Yeah, please deprive me of the sight of a
nubile seventeen year old body moving under semitransparent knit cotton.'

   She bounded back into the room a couple of minutes later, brushing her
hair when the doorbell rang.  She let her mom in.

   "Hi, Rena," I said.

   "Hi, Dave," Rena answered.  "You sleep good?"

   "Yes I did.  Drugs..."

   She smiled.

   "Uh, Rena,' I said.  "Don't ring the doorbell.  Just walk in.  I mean, I
got your daughter in here."

   "Yeah, about that," she laughed, "I doubt that YOU'RE somebody I have to
worry about."

   I was thinking, 'If you'd seen what was in my head when poor, plain
little Ronni walked in wearing that damned t-shirt last night.' I said,
however, "Sadly, I'm too crippled to be dangerous."

   "You and me need to talk about danger one of these days, Dave.  I
brought you grits and bacon and eggs for breakfast, Dave.  I hope that's
okay."

   "Gosh, yes, Rena.  I'm gonna weigh 500 pounds if I keep eating like
this. Calories in, calories out, and all that." Rena was a little on the
plump side, an older, softer, rounder version of her daughter.  A
self-centered jerkwad might even call her fat.  But she wasn't married to a
self-centered jerkwad, nor did she have one for a neighbor.  I found her
quite pleasant to see.  If that was where Ronni was headed in a few years,
well, things could be much worse.

   "Oh, I know ALL about that, Dave," she laughed.  "You know how I battle
with it.  But you're recovering.  You need to eat." Ronni was setting up
the TV tray and her chair, preparatory to feeding me.  "For heaven's sake,
Ron, put your plate here too, and we can eat together."

   Rena went in the kitchen and searched out the makings of a pot of
coffee. This resulted in three mugs when the meal was finished.  The three
of us sipped coffee and watched a morning news show.  Finally, Ronni said,
"Mom, if you're gonna stay here for a minute, I need to run home."

   "Sure, hon," Rena said.

   As soon as the door closed behind the departing Ronni, I asked, "Rena,
WHAT danger?"

   "Never mind, Dave.  That's a conversation for another day." She smiled.

   "She's worth her weight in gold, Rena," I said.

   "Did she...  uh, sponge bath?" Rena asked.

   "Yes, she did." I answered truthfully.

   "She told me that she and your sister got the nurse to show them what to
do."

   I looked at her.  "Yeah, they did."

   Rena sighed.  "I thought she'd wait until your sister was here to do
that."

   "I thought so, too," I said.  "But she was so confident-sounding." I
related the rest of the story.

   Rena shook her head.  "We've had The Talk, Dave.  And she's been
baby-sitting for years, so she knows the difference between little boys and
little girls."

   "That's what she said.  I think her exact words were 'Just like a baby,
except more of it.' But she wasn't expecting...  And honestly, neither was
I, Rena." I watched her eyes.

   She sighed again.  "I suppose that's a better introduction than drunk in
a back seat, uh?  I mean, YOU, I can trust." "I would NEVER hurt Ronni,
Rena.  I was more embarrassed than she was, I think."

   "I know you wouldn't, Dave." Rena's smile was somewhat enigmatic. 
"She's a good kid.  Even if she wasn't my daughter."

   That's about the time that the front door opened and Ronni walked in
with a paperback book and a canned drink.

   "Hi!  I'm back, Mom.  I stirred the pot on the stove for you." She sat
on the sofa.

   "Ronni, when Deb calls, tell her to get you a case of those soft drinks.
If you're taking care of me, I can at least give you your favorite drinks."
I looked at Rena.  "And I need to give you some money to pay for feeding
me, and for that ramp that Alex built."

   "You don't owe us anything, Dave," Rena answered.

   "Thank you," I said.  "But it's not a matter of me owing you.  I
appreciate everything you've done.  And Alex.  And Ronni." I smiled at
Ronni.

   And three days passed with just about the same level of excitement,
except that Ronni's efforts at a sponge bath were a little more
professional, as was my reaction to it.

   My trip to the doctor's office was about as eventful as could be
expected, too.

   "You're actually doing better than I expected, Mister Johnson," he said.
"No infection, thank God.  And your bones appear to be healing ahead of the
curve.  In another week we're going to let you take the splints off long
enough to bathe, but you put NO weight on that leg for another three weeks,
at least, and then it's crutch time."

   I endured having stitches removed from my scalp and the wounds on arm
and leg, and the taping over my ribs was replaced.  "Another week on the
ribs," the doctor said.

   And I was wheeled back out, into the car, then home.  Back to a routine
of sorts, rather painful at times, and damned sure inconvenient.  The
doctor visit left me sweaty, and when Deb and Ronni got me inside, Deb
suggested a sponge bath.  She and Ronni handled the task without a hitch,
and it must be noted that when it came to washing around Mister Poky, Ronni
handled that task with cool and entirely clinical aplomb.  I wasn't amazed,
but Deb was.

   Nearing dinnertime, Rena appeared at the door with a meat loaf dinner
plate for me.  She sent Ronni home for her own meal.  I was a little
curious about this interruption in the normal routine, but shrugged it off.
Rena helped me get through the rough spots of the meal, then sponged off
the parts that missed my mouth.

   "So what's up, Rena?  Why'd you send Ronni home?"

   "You and I need to talk," she said, her eyes serious.

   "About what, Rena?  You look serious," I said.

   "Remember the other day I said that you and me need to talk about danger
one of these days?  Not really danger, Dave.  Question."

   Uh-oh.  'Serious mom' face.  "What?" I asked.

   "What's Ronni mean to you?" She regarded me coolly.

   "Seriously?  Best friend.  I can trust Ronni to do her best for me. 
She's bright, adorable...  some guy's gonna be lucky to find her.  I'm more
than a bit jealous of not being eighteen my own self."

   "You're a decent man, Dave," Rena said.  "You need to know something. 
So you can decide what you need to do."

   "That sounds serious, Rena."

   "It is, Dave.  Ronni's my daughter.  I love her to pieces.  I'm a mom.
Goes without saying that I'd give my life for my kid.  Or kill to protect
her.  But Ronni's telling me something and I'm not sure how to present it."

   "I'd NEVER hurt Ronni, Rena.  I'd die first."

   "I believe you, Dave"

   "What, then?"

   "I think...  No, I KNOW Ronni's in love, Dave."

   I felt a roaring my ears.  "With..."

   Rena's mouth was a tight straight line.  "You."

   "She said that?" I was incredulous.

   "She SHOWS that.  Has for years.  But no, she didn't SAY that until two
weeks ago.  When the ambulance took you away and she was covered in YOUR
blood and crying and sobbing in my arms.  And you know what she was
sobbing?"

   I looked.

   "Mom.  I LOVE 'im.  I REALLY love him.  And I never got to say it."

   "Ohmigod."

   "Yeah, Dave.  So now you've got Ronni staying in your house and now, you
say, sleeping in your bed, and she's in love and YOU don't know it, and
Dave, what exactly are you gonna do?"

   "I'm certainly not gonna HURT her, Rena."

   "Then what, Dave?"

   Just get a gun and shoot me.  I said in a low voice, "For gosh sakes,
Rena, what am I supposed to do?  I'm almost twenty years older than her."

   Rena stared.  "You don't...  you...  there's no chance that you and
her...  you love her?"

   "I do.  You know pretty well that I haven't had anyone else in my life.
I just figured that I was going to watch her until one day she walked into
my house to introduce her new fiancée and then that dream would be over. 
She's been, well, untouchable."

   "She's been afraid of the same thing, Dave," Rena said.

   "Now what?" I asked.

   "You're an honorable man, Dave.  Go slow.  As slow as you can.  And no
babies.  "

   "That's another thing, Rena.  I can't do babies.  When Lisa had
Brittney, those complications, they said it could be dangerous for her to
have another baby, so I got fixed.  What if Ronni wanted a baby?"

   "You and she need to figure that out.  Hell, adopt.  Borrow some. 
Whatever.  She loves you, Dave."

   "What about Alex?  What's he say about a guy his age and his daughter?"

   "We talked.  His take was "I'd rather she didn't bring home some
slack-jawed, droopy-pants'd bastard with his cap on sideways that I'd have
kill an' bury in the back yard.  Said at least ya'll wouldn't be movin' in
with us."

   "Alex always was a 'cut to the chase' kind of guy," I said.

   "Look, Dave, Ronni's gonna be back in a minute or two.  So now you KNOW.
And you know that WE know.  So you don't have to be secretive or lie.  So
be good to our Ronni."

   "I will, Rena.  She's a doll."

   "Uh, we haven't had this conversation, as far as she's concerned,
either. I'm gonna make a pot of coffee, if you want."

   "That sounds good."

   So when Ronni walked back through the door, her mom was in the kitchen.
And where else was I gonna be?

   "Hi, babe," Ronni said.  I saw Rena cock an eye at me and smile.  She
was right.  A lot of things started making sense.

   "Your mom's making me a cup of coffee, babe," I said.

   "Me too, I hope," she smiled.

   And I felt a lot different about that smile.

   The three of us shared coffee and chit-chat for the next forty-five
minutes and then Rena excused herself and left.

   Ronni turned to me.  "So what are we gonna do this evening?" she
chirped.

   I grinned.  "Uh, I think we can take a pass on roller-blading, you
know..."

   Giggle.  "Okay.  So I'm guessing TV, then."

   "Yeah.  That too.  D'you think we could do my laptop?"

   "Yeah, I think I could probably navigate the complexities of modern
consumer electronics."

   "And you could be a huge smartass while doing it." I reached towards
her. She saw that and stepped closer.  Her fingers wrapped mine and
squeezed.

   "Lemme go get your laptop." She disappeared a minute and returned.  Two
minutes later the computer was plugged in, booting up, her chair pushed up
against the side of my recliner, and I smelled a whiff of perfume as she
leaned in towards me.

   "I just want to see my email," I said.

   "Oh, sure, I understand.  You gotta catch up with all your online babes
an' stuff."

   "Yeah, and you can read every bit of that.  And my work stuff, too."

   My personal email was mostly hobby groups and ads.  My work stuff, well,
they officially knew of my status, but that didn't stop the email.  Since I
was relegated to right hand only, I dictated a few answers for Ronni to
type.  I had her add a line to my signature file to denote that fact, too.

   There were the normal cute photos and jokes and we both laughed at a few
and shook our heads at others, and I noted how close she was.  Finishing my
stuff, I asked, "D'you need to check yours?"

   "Sure," she said.  "If you don't mind."

   I don't mind," I said.  I sat back like I was giving her some privacy.

   "Uh-uh," she said.  "You showed me yours.  I'll show you mine." Then she
giggled when she realized what she'd just said.  I watched her run through
a bunch of Facebook stuff.  She kept a running commentary about who's who
among her Facebook friends.  I noted several boys her age.

   "ANY of them among your prospects?" I asked.

   "Oh, no," she said.  "Not even close.  Just kids I go to school with. 
That's not what I'm looking for, babe," she said.

   "Oh," I answered.  I felt a little bad, knowing how she felt about me.
"Hmmmm," I said.  "You smell good." She did.

   Her face turned to me, those brown eyes warm and caring.  "Thank you for
noticing, Dave.  That's sweet."

   "It's difficult NOT to notice, babe," I said.

   Our eyes locked together briefly before she turned away.  She closed the
laptop and sat it off to the side on the end table.  Turning back, her
right hand touched my right arm.  Her left went up to gently touch my
forehead.  "One of these days," she said, "I..." and there was a knock on
the door.

   She jumped up to answer the knock.  Home health nurse.  Late today,
because of the doctor's appointment.  Oh, well.  The next forty-five
minutes were filled with poking and prodding and an examination of my
de-stitched head and arm and leg.

   "When are you supposed to see the doctor again," she asked.

   "In a week.  How do things look?"

   "Pretty good, actually.  They did good work.  You finally got those
stitches out, and that'll help the way your arm and leg feels.  Are you
able to stand?"

   "A little," I said.  "Ronni helps."

   "Good.  Moving's good." She left, promising to return the same time the
next day.

   After the door closed, Ronni was back at my side.  This time she perched
on the arm of my chair and stroked my face.  "Mmmmm, that feels good,
babe," I said.

   "I like when you call me pet names, Dave." Her fingers traced the
bandage on my forehead.

   "You've been calling me "babe", too.  I like it.  It's nice to be a
little bit special to somebody." I closed my eyes.

   "That's what I was gonna say, Dave.  You're more than a little special
to me." She sighed.

   "I want to be, Ronni."

   She slid off the arm of the chair and knelt beside me, resting her
forearms on the arm of the chair.  With my good hand I lightly touched her
face, brushing that plain brown hair out of her face, and noting that brown
was suddenly strands of walnut and copper and "plain" had a new meaning,
like polished walnut burls were just plain brown wood.  She took my hand
and pressed my fingertips to her lips.

   "Dave," she said, eyes serious, a bit frightened.  "You...  uh, Dave, is
it silly for me to think that I love you?"

   Since her mom had spilled the story, I was expecting something.  "Ronni,
I'm eighteen years older than you, little one."

   "I know, Dave.  You've tutored me in math for ten years.  I can count.
Does me being a kid make a difference in things?"

   "It just means we're both crazy, Ronni.  But I...  I love you, too,
Ronni."

   Her eyes went wet.  Tears.  "Y...  you do?  Really?  Dave?  Me?  Why?"

   "Because you're cute and smart and funny and good.  And when I think of
the last ten years, the times I've had the biggest smile on my face, you
were there and you were the reason, and it's crazy because you're so young
but I can't help it."

   "Oh, Dave," she cried, putting her arms around my neck.  Her lips met
mine, softly, then as my tongue touched them, they parted and her tongue
met mine.  The kiss broke with her whisper.  "Dave, I love you.  When you
got hurt and they took you away I was crying to Mom that I loved you and
never told you.  And now I've told you."

   I stroked the back of her head then slowly stroked her back.  "I wish I
had two arms, Ronni.  I want to hold you in them." "I want you to hold me.
I want to hold you."

   "We'll have our time, baby.  Have patience," I said.

   "I don't though.  Dave, baby, I feel like a dam has burst." She kissed
me again.

   "I know, little brown-haired girl.  But we have to take things as they
are, not what we wish they were." I sighed.  "And right now I need to get
rid of two cups of coffee and a glass of orange juice."

   She pulled back and stood, grinning.  "That's one of the things that
draws me to you, babe.  You have such a way with words." She started to get
the wheelchair.

   "No," I said.  "Help me hobble." Together we made our way to the
bathroom.  She supported me as I balanced most of my weight on my good
right leg and with my right hand tried to fish my dick out to pee.

   "Wait," she said.  She started popping snaps and dropped my pajamas,
exposing me.  "Now, don't pee on your pajamas.  I haven't put your other
pair in the dryer yet." And she didn't turn her head this time.  When I was
finished, she pulled my PJ's up and snapped them up.  "Better?" she asked.

   "Better.  I was about to pop." Hobbling back to the living room, I let
her support me.  And I was back in my chair, feet up.

   "Now, where were we?" I asked.C

   "We had just decided that we loved each other."

   "No, I've been loving you for ages.  I just figured there was no way I'd
ever be able to tell you." I reached for her hand.

   "Me too, Dave.  I was so scared that one day I was gonna come home and
you were going to be sitting out there with some woman."

   "And I kept hoping you weren't gonna come over and say, "Hi, this is my
boyfriend.  We're getting married."

   "Wow, Dave.  And we didn't know..."

   I smiled and kissed her.  "Now we know..." Plain little Ronni wasn't
plain any more.  Not in my eyes.

   "Now what?" Ronni asked.  "I'm kinda new to this whole "boyfriend"
thing."

   "We have things all mixed up, Ronni," I said.  "We're supposed to go on
dates and I'm supposed to take you to movies and try and convince you to
let me kiss you then put my hands down your blouse....  That whole
"seduction" thing.  But us, well, you've already seen me naked...  there's
not an inch on me YOU haven't seen already."

   Giggle.  "You're right, babe." She kissed me.  "But you've never ever
acted like you were interested in me...  like seduction an' all that."

   "Because you're my best friend.  Who'd ever try to seduce his best
friend?"

   "Dave"' she said, "I go to high school.  I know guys who'd seduce their
dying mothers.  I've heard stories.  I've had girls cry on my shoulder."

   "I'm not like that, Ronni," I said.

   Her fingertips traced my jaw.  "I know, Dave.  Don't you think I notice
things?"

   "I notice things too, Ron," I said.  "Like you going to prom a month
ago. With a guy."

   "Yeah," she said, brown eyes staring into mine.  "Jason's, uh...  gay.
But in the closet.  He's been a friend for years and I know about him and I
don't think hardly anybody else does." Ronni.  Sometimes when she talked,
words just sort of tumbled out.

   "You two made a cute couple, Ronni.  I was happy for you, even though I
died a little watching you leave." I sighed.

   She keyed on my sigh and gave me a little soft kiss.  "You needn't
worry, Dave.  I saw you watching us leave.  I was wishing I was just going
out to dinner with you like we used to do after my games, you know.  Just
some stupid fast food and you and me sitting across the table eating and
talking."

   I smiled.

   She continued.  "Dave, I'm not a silly little girl.  I just wanted to
look at you and see you smile and know that your smile was for me and
because of me.  I've seen you do that before, but I wanted...  I wanted it
to be love.  I wanted to be yours."

   "You're talking about after the last game of the season, aren't you?" I
asked.

   She smiled softly.  "Yes.  Why'd you think about that time?"

   "Let's see," I said.  "You were still wearing your uniform.  Your hair
was cut a week before, and it was in perfect disarray.  Your face was
glowing, you were happy that your team won and that you scored two runs and
knocked in two more.  And you were giggly and your eyes twinkle when you're
happy."

   She smiled.  "Gosh..."

   I continued.  "And I so desperately wanted to be eighteen and your
boyfriend so I could wrap my arms around you and soak up the happiness
pouring out of you..."

   "Dave," she said, "I was happy because of all of that.  And because I
was with you."

   "But I'm old enough to be your dad, Ronni.  What about guys your own
age?"

   She shook her head.  "Just not interested, Dave.  I don't know why.  I
have some friends, but every time I looked at one of them, nothing...  and
talk?  Have you ever talked with teenagers?  Besides me, I mean?"

   "Yeah, but not seriously, babe," I said.

   "They can't talk seriously, Dave.  What was the last conversation you
and I had?"

   "You asked something about the space program.  We ended up talking for
an hour about rockets and German scientists.  Why?"

   "Because I was trying to talk about that book you gave me, "Confederacy
of Dunces" with a guy and when he found out it wasn't about the Three
Stooges, he quit listening."

   "He wasn't the right one, babe,' I said.

   "And you're the one who looks at me with those damned blue eyes and
calls me "babe", Dave.  You always have.  But since I turned thirteen, the
"babe" part stopped."

   "Uh-huh," I said.  "'Babe' is good for little girls, but when you turned
thirteen, 'babe' means something different."

   "But you called me babe in the hospital..."

   "I know, Ron," I said, "I guess I was so happy that the first face I saw
every time I woke up was yours.  You were there for me.  And I guess I
decided that you were a whole different babe."

   "Nobody else ever called me babe like that, Dave." She turned her gaze
away for a second, then looked back at me.  "I've loved you for a long
time, Dave."

   "I didn't think this was a spur of the moment thing, Ronni.  You're not
like that."

   "I'm NOT like that.  You're right, babe.  There!  I called YOU "babe".
And you're..." she paused.  "Uh, Dave, Mom knows I love you."

   "You told her?  When?"

   "The day of your accident." She took a breath.  "When the ambulance left
with you and I was in the house changing to go to the hospital, I told
her."

   "Ronni..." I admitted, "She told me that."

   "She did?  When?"

   "Today.  I told her...  she asked that I not tell you...  but she's just
trying to protect you, in case I..."

   "In case you didn't...  " she looked at me with soft eyes, "love me like
that..."

   "But I DO love you like that...  whatever 'that' is.  And I think now
that if you didn't know that I knew..."

   "Babe," she said, "thank you for telling me.  Mom told me to be careful
what I wish for."

   "Your mom and dad are two of the finest people I know of, Ronni.  I'm
proud to call them friends."

   "Mom thinks I'm strange sometimes, Dave," she said.  "And Dad." She
paused.  "Did she say anything about Dad?"

   "Yeah, she told 'im."

   Ronni smiled.  "Then if she told YOU after she told Dad, I imagine that
Dad isn't having me sent off to Washington State to live with my maiden
aunt..."

   I told her what her dad was reported to have said.  She giggled.

   "Sure, you giggle now, but what am I supposed to do?  I mean, I'm
eighteen years older than you.  And I love you."

   Giggle.  "yeah," she mused, "You're gonna look strange hanging out with
me at the mall..."

   "I never thought you were the mall rat type...  I guess I could turn my
hat sideways and get some pants that hang down around my ass.  Uh, and
tattoos.  I need tattoos.  All the cool guys have tattoos."

   "You get a tattoo and I'm gonna take Dad's belt sander and erase it
myself..." Her laughter tinkled like bells.

   "So I can safely assume that you haven't snuck off and gotten a tattoo?"
I chuckled.

   "Nope.  And the only things I have pierced are my ears."

   I knew about those ears.  She normally sported tiny silver spheres,
occasionally costume gems.  Now I wanted to nibble on them.  Oh, well,
nothing ventured, and all that.  With my right hand I pulled her close and
nibbled.  She dissolved into happy giggles and squeals.

   "Nobody's ever done that before, Dave...  Not that I would have let
them." She tittered.  "But YOU..." she kissed me lightly on the lips and
then turned her head.  "Again!"

   Ear.  Neck.  And there's a tug at my heart that only one arm was free to
hug and hold this brown-haired angel.  And she was grinning broadly.

   "I think I like having you for a boyfriend, Dave."

   I brushed her face gently with my fingertips.  "Thank you, cutie," I
said.  "You're a doll, you know."

   "I'm not, you know..." she said.

   "You aren't looking with the same eyes I'm using, babe.  " My fingers
traced the eyebrows over those brown eyes.  Big brown eyes.  Then down the
bridge of her nose.

   "Dave, you're prejudiced." She smiled.  "And I don't mind a bit."

   My index finger traced her cheek, youthful, firm, to the corner of her
mouth.  She turned her head and kissed it, eyes twinkling.

   I stroked her hair, my fingers touching her neck, simply enjoying the
tactile information that corroborated what my eyes saw.  She laid her head
against my chest and shoulder.

   "Dave," she said, "this all changes things."

   "Yes it does, princess.  Lots of things."

   "I'm talking about tonight." She sighed.  Her head lifted and she looked
at me, her face close to me.

   "What about tonight?" I asked.

   "I've been sleeping in your bed, Dave.  Because you're hurt and if you
needed something, you know...  We kinda thought it was alright because
you're hurt and all that.  And I knew you wouldn't do anything, and I knew
I wouldn't do anything...  in bed, I mean.  But now..."

   "You're worried I'll try something, Ronni?"

   "Or I might," she said.  Her eyes...

   "If you're uncomfortable, sweetness, then you're welcome to use
Brittney's room." My daughter's bedroom was almost museum-like except for
the month she visited in the summer and for the holiday week of either
Thanksgiving or Christmas.  I continued, "But Ron, I was able to control
myself so far, you know..."

   "I know," she said.  "And I was, too."

   "Sooo?" I questioned.

   "I mean, Dave...  Sex." She looked at me with shades of nervousness in
her eyes.

   "Ronni, you know about sex.  And so do I.  I've managed to restrain
myself."

   "I know, Dave," she said.

   "I just found out you loved me today, angel," I said.  "Do you think
that I think that means I disregard your feelings?  People can love each
other and NOT..."

   "I know, babe," she said.  "But would it be bad if I still sleep with
you?  And maybe snuggle a little closer?  It felt so good when you touched
my face while ago.  And we kissed."

   And heaven help me, but I answered, "No, baby.  I would love to have you
snuggle with me.  And kiss me."