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 "Is it gonna hurt you if I hug you again?  Last night was the first night
we've been apart since November.  I missed you."

   "I missed you too, little love.  Only way I could go to sleep was
drugs."

   She smiled.  A little kiss.  Then 'serious Cindy'.  "They tried to kill
us.  ME!  You stopped 'em."

   "Ain't no way somebody's ever gonna hurt you while I'm in a position to
stop 'im," I said.

   A soft kiss.  "You proved it, baby.  Like I didn't already BELIEVE
you..." Her brow knit into the 'Cindy's thinking about something' look. 
"Baby, they came into our HOME.  OUR HOME." Her lips formed a straight
line, an uncharacteristic expression for her normally soft and happy face.
"Dan, can we fix it back up?"

   "I dunno, baby, it's messed up pretty bad.  You and me, we bled all
over. And that guy ...  That whole end of the trailer..."

   "It's OUR home, Dan.  Would you WANT to?"

   I could see where Cindy was.  In her short life, the places she'd lived
had never been scenes of comfort and happiness, up until she moved in OUR
trailer.  Home.  It WAS, to Cindy.

   "Sweetie," I said, "Insurance might say it's totaled."

   Why did I think, for even a brief moment, that this little thing hadn't
already gone up the road to answering her own questions.

   "I talked to Mizz Helen.  And Mister Charlie.  He says he knows that
there are people who specialize in cleaning up crime scenes and THEY can
clean up ours.  He says when they finish, you'd never know anything
happened there."

   I raised an eyebrow.  "An' Mizz Helen says she'll get Randy to look at
the siding and stuff.  You remember him, right?  He fixed us up after the
first time."

   "Yeah.  Helen said he was the guy..."

   "MIzz Helen says he'll be able to fix this..."

   "You sure this is what you want, little one?"

   "It's OUR home.  We won't stay there much longer, but when we move out,
it'll be because WE want to, not because some assholes shot it out from
under us..."

   "Asshole?  My precious little angel says 'asshole'?"

   "Your 'precious little angel' saw her husband bleeding on the floor,
guy. I had the little pistol, but you were between me an' him..."

   "You..."

   "Uh, somebody told me that I needed to be responsible for myself and my
own," she said.  "I thought that if YOU saw something coming, then I needed
to be ready too..."

   I was mulling over that set of thoughts when there was a soft knock at
the door.

   "Come in," Cindy said.

   It was an orderly, the floor nurse, and that hospital media guy.

   "Are you SURE you're up to this, Mister Richards?" the nurse asked.  The
suit guy looked over her shoulder expectantly.

   "Oh, sure," I said.  "As long as you got something soft for that
wheelchair seat.  And I get to go to the bathroom first..."

   The nurse watched closely as I turned and sat up.  Cindy watched even
closer.  I winced when my compromised ass cheek hit the mattress.

   "Are you okay, baby?" Cindy asked, concern coloring her face.

   "Not as okay as I was before I got shot in the butt," I said.  I stood
for the first time since I was wheeled in the night before.  Shaky.  And
pains in my calf and butt.  But I walked gingerly to the bathroom under my
own power.

   I couple of minutes later I emerged.  There was a pillow in the seat of
the wheelchair.  I sat.  As I was wheeled out into the hall, Judge Charlie
and Mizz Helen were just coming up from the other direction.

   "We're going downstairs, ' Cindy told them.  "A TV news crew is there."

   We had a little parade through the halls and into a nicely-appointed
conference room, the hospital name prominently located above a small stage.
They wheeled me onto it.

   The news crew was indeed there, a well-dressed reporterette and her
cameraman, who, taking advantage of the fixed scene, had set his camera up
on a tripod.

   Cindy fussed with the hospital gown, straightening it out and patting it
to as close to presentability as one was likely to achieve in one of those
things.  "There!  Ready for your debut!" she giggled, delivering a kiss on
my cheek.

   I looked at our reporterette.  She was a cookie-cutter example: Neat,
tasteful dress meant to convey respectability and trust.  Blue eyes. 
Blonde.  Hair nailed in place with some sort of chemical mix.  Make-up was
well done, if you didn't get close enough to see it.  Up close, it looked
excessive.

   She smiled sweetly, giving me her most disarming look.  "Mister
Richards, I'm Tammy Jellens from Channel Six.  We want to interview about
your incident." Smile.  "Are you feeling okay for this?"

   "I'm good, thank you..."

   "Gary Beeler is our cameraman."

   "Hi, Gary!  Nice rig!  What, two years old?" I said to him."

   "Year and a half," he retorted.  "You know this stuff?"

   "Just a little," I said.

   Miss Tammy was looking only a tiny bit miffed that I ignored her over
her cameraman.  I think she's one of those who likes to be the center of
attention.  But I wasn't going to relinquish control.  "Just so you know,"
I said, "This is Judge Charlie Peebles and his wife Helen.  She owns the RV
park.  He's the retired district judge for our county.  And this is my
wife, Cindy.  She's part of the story, too, but she's too young for you to
put in your story."

   Cindy smirked and gave a little finger wave.  "Fourteen!"

   Tammy's eyebrow went up.

   I wanted to get away from that little fact.  "So where do you wanna
start, Mizz Tammy?" I asked.

   She started.  I guess I was supposed to be awed, but I've addressed
captains of industry and senior military officers and people who were
desperately in need of help and a blonde reporterette wasn't nearly enough
to sway me.  Cindy watched, discreetly off-camera.  We went through the
standard ice-breakers.

   "How long have you lived in the park?"

   "Since last August."

   "Where do you work?"

   "I'm not sure my employers want me to say that on TV," I said.

   "Very well." She drew a breath.  "We'll edit that out.  What do you do?"

   "Pretty close to the same question, don't you think?"

   She looked exasperated.  "Mister Richards, I'm just trying to get some
background."

   I glanced at Cindy, then Gary.  TWO smirks.  "Let's just say that I'm
well established in a technical field and that I'm in the area working at
one of several possible locations."

   "Okay, then let me ask that question." She smiled.  Looked a little
forced, if you want to know what I think.  She asked the question and I
repeated the answer.

   Next question was about my lifestyle.  I explained about itinerant
construction work in general terms.

   Then came the questions about the shooting.  "What were you doing?"

   "At home with my wife, minding my own business."

   "How'd you know the guy was hostile?"

   "I told 'im to go away and he shot a hole in my trailer, blew the door
open, then stepped inside with a gun.  And pointed it at me and my wife." I
shuddered a little, reliving THAT moment in my head.

   "How did you have a gun in your hand?" she asked.

   "When I wasn't expecting a visitor and he didn't leave ...  He said he
wanted to get even with my wife for a previous incident."

   "Previous incident?"

   "Yes, back in December his brother broke in on my wife while she was
home by herself.  She shot him in self defense."

   Now I was presented with a "Concerned Reporter" look.  She flipped open
a sheaf of papers, telegraphing the fact that she already KNEW where she
was headed.  "Mister Richards, it says right here in the investigation that
the man she shot was unarmed." She looked at me like she'd just uncovered
the Watergate breakin.

   I wasn't buying it.  "Mizz Tammy, does it also say that the guy was
six-two and two-thirty-five?  Exactly how ARMED does he need to be to
threaten the life of a fourteen year old girl?  All HUNDRED pounds of her?"

   "She could've called the authorities."

   "Oh, yeah, she did.  They got there fifteen minutes later.  He'd been
layin' on the ground for fourteen." I could see THAT comment wasn't making
the thirty second spot tonight.

   She shifted tacks.  "Don't you think that gun laws might've prevented
this?"

   I knew the next statement wasn't making the cut, either.  "Dear, dear
Mizz Tammy ...  Let's see what laws were broken.  BOTH of them were
convicted felons.  It is illegal under present law for them to possess
firearms.  Yet there they were ...  They shot into an occupied dwelling. 
There's a law against THAT.  Broke into a dwelling.  They ignored THAT law,
too ...  Tell me, lady ...  What law do you propose we write that those two
were going to pay attention to?"

   I caught a glimpse of ol' Gary giving me a suble 'thumbs up' sign behind
Tammy's back.

   "But if guns were harder to get..." she started.

   I didn't let her finish.  "Two-thirty-five versus a hundred ...  And
help fifteen minutes away..." I smiled my most disarming smile, then
continued.  "I DO believe in gun control, though..."

   Miss Tammy thought she'd been granted a reprieve.  "You believe in gun
control?"

   "Yes, ma'am," I grinned.  "I ...  uh, let's see ...  eight shots, eight
hits." Before her expression could collapse completely, I added, "And
Cindy's three for three.  Gotta admit, that's gun control you can believe
in..." I saw her cameraman looking away, obviously fighting off laughter.

   Her expression was, shall we say, struggling for control.  "Mister
Richards..."

   "Mizz Tammy," I stepped in, "My HOME has been violated by criminals who
intended to harm my wife.  Don't you hope that if something like that ever
happened to YOU, somebody'd be there on YOUR behalf?  Or like Cindy, YOU
could protect yourself?"

   She nodded.  "That's not the point I'm trying to make."

   Now I was getting feisty, having pretty much written the interview off
as adversarial.  "Okay, what point ARE you trying to make?  That I and my
wife should be willing victims?  That you know some magic formula that will
make criminals start obeying laws because YOU think they should?  Sorry.  I
don't accept your point.  Lady," I said, "I am a combat veteran.  YOUR
country ...  MY country saw fit to put me out in the desert to protect YOUR
way of life.  Was I supposed to go back to being a sheep after that?"

   "n ...  No, that's not what I'm saying, Mister Richards," she countered,
trying to rescue the situation.

   I dove right back in.  Glanced at Cindy.  Full smirk there.  "I'd think
that a RESPONSIBLE," I almost spat the word, "report would talk about a
criminal with a rap sheet a page long would be out on parole.  Or at least
do a positive story of TWO people surviving a home intrusion.  Can you do
that?" I looked at Cindy.  "Tell me this: If the tables had turned, would
you have even run the picture of her as a victim?"

   "I ...  Uh..." she turned to the camera.  "Kill it!" She looked aback at
me.  Mister Richards, you're not making this easy."

   I motioned Cindy to my side.  "Mizz Tammy, see this lady?  She's the
most precious thing in my life.  Somebody tried to kill me and her.  And
you want to make a point for gun control?"

   "I'm sorry," she said.  "Do you wanna give me another shot?"

   "Bad choice of words, don't'cha think?" Cindy chirped.

   "Oh, gosh," came the flustered answer.  "Okay ...  This time, no gun
control questions, okay?"

   "Okay."

   "Don't wanna get you started again." She looked at Gary.  "Okay, roll
it."

   This time the interview was, in my mind, satisfactory.  Finishing up, I
asked Gary for a copy of the whole session.  He laughed.  "Yeah, you just
KNOW that's gonna get out, don't you?"

   Tammy looked at him sternly.  Then her face softened as Cindy sidled up
beside her.  "Miss Tammy, we watch your show, you know..."

   "Why thank you, sweetie," Tammy said to Cindy.

   "I wish we could've met under better circumstances." Cindy was smiling.

   A neuron fired in my head.  "There's you a story, Miss Tammy, if you're
looking for a positive one.  Cindy's fourteen.  Graduates high school in
May.  Gifted scholarship to Auburn.  Talk to her."

   Cindy smiled.  "He's proud.  So's my foster mom." She motioned towards
Helen.  Helen smiled.

   Before they left, Gary came up and shook my hand, then Cindy's, and then
they left.  I looked at the hospital guy in his suit.  "I fear I may have
damaged the reputation of your establishment."

   "No worse than me wetting myself during your speech," he said.  "You
think you could come to visit our rod and gun club?  Maybe give a little
talk?"

   "Can Cindy come with me?"

   "Of course," he said.

   "Like preachin' to the choir, don't you think?"

   "Oh, you might be surprised, Mister Richards," he said.  "But we'll buy
dinner if you show up."

   "Just tell me when and where," I replied.

   "I'll do that," he said.  "And thanks, okay?"

   I got wheeled back up to my room in time for a hospital lunch.  I lifted
the cover on the plate.

   "Good lord, son," Charlie exclaimed.  "That's horrid!  If you'll wait
twenty minutes, I can get us some real food up here..."

   "Charlie, I know how YOU eat.  If you say 'real food', I'm all for it."
I put the cover back on the plate and pushed it away.

   Charlie picked up the phone and placed a call, ordering a clean dozen
barbecue plate lunches to be delivered to the floor.  Finishing, he
grinned. "Be nice to hospital people, 'specially when you're MY age. 
That's some good barbecue.  Good people!"

   True to his word, twenty minutes later the delivery arrived.  Helen and
Cindy pulled four clamshells from the shipment for us and passed word to
the nurses about the rest.  More than one head popped in the door to say
thanks.

   We talked about Cindy's ideas about the trailer.  "Baby," Helen said, "I
should've moved y'all into my house two months ago.  Really!"

   "Oh, thank you, Mizz Helen," Cindy said.  "An' we'd've probably done it,
then.  But now it's about OUR house ...  Not gonna let the bad guys win..."

   "I understand that, Miss Cindy," Charlie said.  "But reality is you'd
have more room..."

   "Thank you, Mister Charlie," she said.  "But we've never needed much
room.  I would like to bring my husband back to OUR house, if we can get it
fixed up."

   "Well, I called those people I told you about, and they'll get started
tomorrow.  If that's what you want."

   She smiled.  "Thank you, sir," she said.

   One o'clock, the doctor came in.  "Well, Mister Richards, let's see your
good side," he quipped.  To everyone in the room, he said, "Could you folks
wait outside?"

   "Can Cindy stay?" I asked.

   "Your daughter?" he asked.

   "Common mistake," I said.  "Wife."

   "Oh.  Sorry.  Miss Cindy, you can stay if you want..." He then noticed
the bulge of the bandages swelling the shoulder of her shirt.  "Uh ... 
sorry, NOW I remember ...  YOU got shot, too..." He smiled.  "How's that
going?"

   "Fine, thank you," Cindy said.  "Mine was open.  Dan's calf is a
puncture."

   "Yes," the doctor said.  "Roll over, Mister Dan.  Let's have a look." He
peeled back the bandage.  "Pretty colors, buddy," he said.  "Purples,
blues, a little yellow, but not the red that I didn't want to see." He
checked pulses on my foot.  "We were worried about infection inside the
muscle sheath.  Looks like you got past that." He replaced the bandage. 
His next look was my ass.  "Neater'n a chainsaw wound..."

   "How many people chainsaw themselves in the ass?" I laughed through
clenched teeth as he palpated the site.

   "You'd be surprised," he laughed.  "This'un's okay, too.  Gonna be an
interesting scar.  What was the comment about an Iraqi ambush that I
heard?"

   I repeated it.  He laughed.

   Next look was the shoulder.  "Clean.  But you got powder burns.  How
close were you to that guy?"

   "Another step and he could've hit me over the head with 'is barrel."

   "You'll have an interesting scar.  With freckles." He patted my other
shoulder.  "Not nearly as cute as Miss Cindy's."

   I turned my head to see her smiling.

   "Tell you what, I'm gonna write an order to get you new bandages and a
prescription for oral antibiotics and some painkillers.  You can use the
pain pills if you need 'em.  Use ALL the antibiotics.  Go home.  Don't get
too athletic for a few days, but if you can sit, you're good to go do what
you want.  Crutch might help for a week or so.  We'll see you at the office
in a week."

   "Just like that, you send a mortally wounded man home..." I laughed. 
"Thanks."

   "Oh, yeah," he said.  "Homer says you're gonna come to our rod & gun
club meeting?"

   "Homer?"

   "Yeah ...  hospital media guy..."

   "Oh, okay.  Didn't figure him for a 'Homer'..."

   "Nobody does.  He's a nice guy, though." He laughed as he left.

   When the door closed, Cindy let out a little squeal.  "We can go home
together!"

   "I need clothes," I said.

   "Got 'em in the car," Helen said.  "Cindy gave us the sizes.  Eletha
went out for them.  Says she knows you need a little extra room in the butt
right now."

   Cindy said, "Lemme have the keys, Mizz Helen.  I'll go get the bag."
Keys in hand, she took off.

   "How's she doing?" I asked Helen and Charlie.

   "She's a trooper," Charlie said.  "Cried about YOU.  When she found out
you were gonna be okay, she got happy again.  Then this morning, she
thought about your trailer, and got really kind of irate.  "First time I
ever heard an improper word from her mouth..."

   "Me, too, Charlie," I said.  "I didn't understand at first, but I can
sort of understand why that trailer is important to her.  So I'll go along.
She's my Cindy, my heart..."

   "You're hers, too, you know, son.  Man's awfully lucky to have a woman
like that."

   Helen smiled.  "So y'all can stay at OUR house for a while, at least
until you get an idea of how long to get your trailer back in shape." She
turned to Charlie.  "And you old goat, you're MY heart..."

   Charlie smiled.  "I'm lucky, too..."

   "Cindy and I are lucky we've got you two," I said truthfully.

   "Oh, don't get all syrupy,"Helen laughed.  "Family.  It's what families
do."

   Cindy came through the door with a bag.  "New tennis shoes.  New
clothes. They saved your belt and stuff," she said.

   A nurse entered the room with a rolling cart.  "New bandages, Mister
Dan," she said.  "Then you can go home."

   "That's wonderful," I said, "not that y'all aren't wonderful here, but
this is all a massive pain in the ass..."

   Cindy giggled.

   The nurse looked at me sideways.  "Your husband?  Comedian?"

   "A legend in his own mind," Cindy tittered.

   "We'll step out while you get bandaged and dressed," Charlie said.

   As the nurse peeled off the old bandages and cleaned the wounds, she
kept a running commentary on what Cindy should look for.  "Not like he can
look back here himself," she said.

   Cindy laughed.  "Nope!  Finally got something he can't do for 'imself."

   "I'm not making these things as bulky," the nurse said.  "But you won't
be as well-padded, either.  You might have to favor one cheek for a while."

   "My sister-in-law says he's 'half-assed' now..."

   "Cute!"

   "Embarassing," I said.

   "Puts the 'ass' in embarrass," Cindy giggled.

   "Oh, she's a quick one, Mister Dan," the nurse said.  "There you go. 
You can take this little bag of stuff with you," she said, handing Cindy a
bag of bandaging supplies.  "And you can buy the same stuff at the drug
store.  Cindy, just keep it clean.  Soap and water is his friend, okay?"

   "Okay, thank you!" Cindy smiled.

   "Stop by the nurse's station and get his check-out package.  We'll see
that he's wheeled down to the front door."

   "Okay," I said.

   She left and I sat up gingerly so Cindy could remove that accursed
hospital gown.

   She looked down.  "Everything looks okay there, baby," she smiled. 
"Have to check it out better when we get in our own room." She dipped into
the bag and came up with a set of boxer shorts, and helped me get them on,
then a loose-fitting pair of khaki pants.  Next came a shirt, and that's
when I found out how much that 'flesh wound' on my shoulder could hurt.  I
winced.

   "Let ME do that, love," she said.  And when she raised HER left arm, she
bit her bottom lip.  "Forgot," she said.  "Ouch!" and she gamely finished
putting my shirt on.

   I stood.  Standing didn't hurt much.  Between the two of us, I managed
to get my belt on, then I sat back down and we fought with socks and shoes.

   "There.  Ready to go," she said, giving me a little kiss.

   "I need a bunch of these, ' I said.

   "I know," she said.  "Me too." She stuck her head out the door and
waved. Helen and Charlie followed the orderly with a wheelchair into the
room.

   Cindy put a pillow into the wheelchair and I sat down.  We stopped at
the nurse's station for me to say 'thanks'.

   "Not a problem," the head nurse said.  "Your people bring food." She
turned to Mister Charlie.  "Thank you, Mister Charlie.  We sure did
appreciate it."

   "Glad to do it," Charlie said.  "Thank you for taking care of our boy
here!" He patted me on the good shoulder.

   At the front door, Cindy and Charlie waited with me as Helen brought the
car around.  "Car"?  Full-size SUV.  I got into the back seat, buckled in,
and heeled over at an angle to lighten the load on my butt.  A short while
later we were in the drive at Helen and Charlie's.  Helen tapped the horn
once and we started getting out in front of the main entrance.

   Eletha opened the door for us as I started walking gingerly.

   "Thanks for the pants, Mizz Eletha," I said.

   "Oh, stop callin' me 'Mizz'," she said.  "I know you needed extra room
in the butt.  Cindy told me where..."

   "Well, they're perfect," I said.

   "Good!  Now get in here.  I fixed up the guest room for y'all.  Cindy,
it's a lot better now." She smiled.  "An' Dan, I hope you can sit long
enough for plain ol' meat loaf for dinner."

   "I'd stand up to eat your cooking, Eletha," I said.

   I'd never toured Charlie's house, and I was happy to find that the guest
room was at the end opposite the master bedroom.

   "Go lay down for a while, son," Charlies said.  "You've had a long day."

   "Thank you, Charlie.  It has been." I turned and Cindy took my arm.

   "C'mon, baby.  Let's get you rested."

   As I eased down into the bed, I let her undress me, at least down to the
boxers.  She giggled.  "You don't like boxers, I know." Her fingers worked
their way into the fly to find an old friend.  "This relaxes you," she
said, gently fondling me.  Giggle.  "Up to a point."

   Both our right arms were intact, and her right hand gently explored and
massaged my balls and dick as she leaned over to kiss me.  I carefully
pulled her down to me with my right arm.  "Mmmmmmm, I missed my Cindy," I
purred.

   She pulled her lips away from mine, smiling, her green eyes giving me a
place to lose myself.  "I could've lost you last night, baby," she said. 
"While you were tryin' to protect me..."

   "It's what a man does for his wife," I said.  "What else could I do? 
Besides, you had the other pistol ...  protecting me."

   "Still ...  I love you, Dan.  I don't know what I'd do without you."

   "I'm the same way, Cindy.  And we need to talk to Charlie about wills
and stuff.  You're my only heir, but I wanna make sure we have all of it
covered ...  the house, the plane, insurance, all those things."

   I felt a little sob.  "They're just THINGS, Dan.  You're my LIFE."

   "You're mine as well, little redheaded girl.  Never was any like you
before.  Never will be another."

   "Can we figure out how to lay in bed together?  I wanna be by you."

   "You're tired, too, huh, princess?"

   She bobbed her head.

   "Crawl in.  We can figure this out." I had a good right arm and she did,
too, and she was a little too sore to put her left shoulder down.  So was
I. So we both lay on our right sides, spooned, her red hair at my lips,
where I could kiss her, and at my nose, where I could breathe her.  And I
could hold her in my arms.

   That's exactly how we were when there was a soft knock at the door. 
Helen's voice.  "Kids, dinner's ready!"

   "We'll be right down," I said.  Cindy stirred, got out of bed, then
kissed me and helped me back into my pants.  She kicked a pair of house
slippers to me.

   "You don't have to bend over to tie these," I said.  "Good idea!"

   She smiled.  "Mizz Helen an' Mizz Eletha," she said.  "Let's go.  Our
family is waiting."

   I didn't exactly sprint.  A provided crutch helped take the pressure off
the leg, and by virtue of not requiring as much movement, my butt.  Of
course, it did add to the tugging on my shoulder, but that was bearable.

   "Eletha, join us, why don't you?" Charlie said.  At the table, we bowed
our heads as he, our chosen patriarch, gave thanks for the meal, for
friends and family and for us all being together again.  He was sincere. 
We believed him.

   The meal was good.  "If Mister Charlie had said something, I coulda done
special," Eletha said.

   "Special?" I replied.  "People would die to eat like this.  You cook
like my folks, Eletha."

   The conversation stayed light.  Charlie looked at his watch.  "Time for
the news," he said.  "Let's see if you made the cut."

   We went into the den and turned on the TV.  I made the cut, at least
thirty seconds of it, "Defending his home" "Armed criminals." Even "Didn't
have time to wait for the law enforcement." And that was it.

   Cindy watched, her laptop open in her lap.  As soon as the segment
finished, she found it online.  "I'm sending a link to everybody," she
said. Cindy had a 'friends and family' mailing list.  One click, and
everybody had the video.

   A couple of minutes passed before Cindy's cell phone rang.  She looked
at the display, smiled.  "My sister-in-law!"

   "My sister Tootie," I told the room.

   "Hi, Tootie!" Pause.  "Yeah, he was sittin' on a pillow." Pause.  "Oh,
yeah, I'm okay.  Mine was a scratch." Pause.  "Uh-huh!  Saw when the doctor
took the bandages off.  Here, talk to 'im!  I love you!"

   She smiled and handed me the phone.  "I don't mean to be rude," I said.

   "Oh, talk to your sister.  She's probably worried," Charlie said.

   "Hi, Sis," I said.  "I'm here with Cindy and Charlie and Helen and
Eletha.  We just finished dinner."

   "Are you okay?" Tootie asked.

   "For the millionth time, yes.  Just like the cowboy movies...  'only a
flesh wound'."

   "So when are you coming to visit?"

   "I'm NOT showing you my scar," I said, laughing.  "But let me get to
where I can sit a little easier."

   "Okay.  You scare us, you know..."

   "I scare US," I said.  "Tell everyone we're okay and we love 'em."

   "'Kay, Brother," Tootie said.  "I love you!"

   "Love you too, Sis.  Bye!" And I handed Cindy back her phone.

   "Sorry," I said.  "I hate to stop the conversation to talk on a cell
phone."

   Conversation picked back up.  Cindy's phone intruded again.  She looked.
"Tina." She handled that call.  "No, he's gonna be okay.  We're staying
with Mister Charlie and Mizz Helen." Pause.  Giggle.  "Plenty BIG enough.
Watch 'Gone With the Wind'.  Remember 'Tara'?  This place is like that,
'cept better plumbing!"

   I watched Charlie snicker.  "Girl has a way with a phrase, doesn't she?"

   "My Cindy," I said, proudly.

   "No, I WANT our trailer back.  Really.  The first home I ever felt LOVED
in..." Pause.  "Is that Susan?  Put 'er on speaker." There was a pause. 
"Hi, Susan!  We're okay." Pause.  "I don't know ...  Just a second, I'll
ask 'im."

   Cindy turned to me.  "Susan wants to know what you know about Jason."

   "Top notch technician," I said.

   Cindy repeated that.  She turned back to me.  "She said she don't care
about that.  Is he a nice guy?"

   "I suppose," I said.  "I never saw him come to work hung over.  Didn't
hear any stories.  Hey!  Why?"

   "She says she's just curious, is all," Cindy chirped.  And there was a
little twinkle in her eye.  "Okay, tell Alan everything is okay." Pause. 
"yeah, a weekend.  As soon as Dan can sit good..." Pause.  "Okay, sisters.
I love ya!  Bye!"

   "Well, that' leaves us one more.  And if Tootie calls 'im, my brother
might not call.  Might have to call him so his feelings aren't hurt."
   "It's a strain," Helen said.  "Not every day a family member gets shot."